We had a pretty eventful night hike earlier. Before we even left our meeting place, which this week is at a log circle over near the trash cans, we saw some raccoons busy inspecting the dumpsters. Most of the kids had never seen raccoons before, so we all stood still and watched them. They watched us back for a bit and then made themselves scarce.
Later, after we had walked through the lower field and down into the woods, I had each kid follow the trail alone, with only a few candles to light the way. This is something we do every week, but tonight it was windy and rainy, causing the candles to flicker and go out. Most of the kids made it down the trail anyway. The last few people called out through the darkness, so I walked back up to light the candles for them. It turned out that this wasn't the problem. They had been calling because a group of coyotes had brushed past them in the dark, close enough to touch. This was confirmed by the cabin leader who was still with them. Not that I don't trust the kids, but I've had campers claim to see all manner of things out in the woods at night - dead people, guardian spirits, and who knows what else...
I wish I'd been there to see the coyotes. I did, later on, come across a couple of newts on the trail. The low clouds were reflecting enough light from the nearby cities to make the darkness somewhat less dark. There was even a newt perched on the edge of the cement wall bordering one side of the pond, as if contemplating a plunge.
As we returned to the school, the voices of frogs reached us from somewhere deep in the meadow.

Earlier, a Pacific Tree Frog posed for me.




So did a mushroom - possibly a Parrot Waxycap. Possibly not.

In the interest of documenting our culture's last bastion of folk tradition, I must report that I heard a new variation of "Jingle Bells, Batman Smells" today in which the line I remember from childhood, "And Joker got away" was replaced with "And Joker played ballet."

Sure, it's a silly children's rhyme, but one must remember that it is part of a living oral tradition, much like other folk music was back before people had the means to record it. Even today, when people are doing their best to capture every obscure little snatch of song ever uttered, I fear that children's rhymes go largely unnoticed by music scholars. It is this fact, and this fact alone that allows these rhymes to be part of an evolving oral tradition. They're not set in the stone of an official recording. They're free and wild, passed down through the generations by bored elementary school children. Whoopeee!

I did my mad scientist routine today at the party where I heard this. I got tipped well, both in money and in cake. Chocolate, cash, and the opportunity to witness an evolving oral tradition. A good way to spend the afternoon if I do say so myself.

I wonder if anybody who wasn't a sociology major ever thinks about stuff like this

Here's some photos from yesterday's hike.










The sky has been blue and filled with that indefinable sense of spring, even though spring is still months away. Next week the rain may make another appearance, causing all of the hopeful little lizards to hole up once again under rocks and dirt.

The campers won't have that option though. If it rains, they still have to go hiking in it. So do I, of course, but that's okay. I don't mind. It's much better than working in a cubicle somewhere.

Somehow every time I turn around it's garbage day.

I'm pretty tired. Jen's got a sinus/ear infection and is feeling pretty miserable. The kids, of course, are their usual selves, bouncing and screaming and spilling things faster than we can keep up with them. Willow now kisses her dolls on the head and puts them to bed, saying, "Baby! Night night!" I'm going to really miss this toddler phase when she grows beyond it.

I went to see Lhasa at the Great American Music Hall in San Francisco last night. G got me in on the KALX guest list, which was nice. Lhasa sings like somebody you'd expect to hear in a smoky bar at 2 am somewhere in southern Europe, perhaps France or Spain. Or maybe Portugal, since she did sing an Amalia Rodriques song. Quite nicely too, I might add.

At work this week I managed to give an olfactory lesson on animal adaptations, with an emphasis on defensive behavior. Within the space of half an hour I picked up a large millipede and a stinkbug, so my left hand smelled like upset millipede and my right hand reeked of angered stinkbug. Most of the kids smelled my hands too. The consensus was that the stinkbug was stinkier. The millipede's defensive liquid, which is yellow when emitted, stains skin a bruise-like color that fades after a day or so.

Today we hiked up to a nearby reservoir that I had never previously visited. I took a wrong turn and led everybody up a creek which we had to cross and recross, scrambling over rocks and under low lying branches. Several kids got quite wet, but all had a great time anyway. There were hundreds of spider webs shimmering in the sunlight (warm sun in January, what next?) and the ground was covered with Banana Slugs. When we finally did reach the reservoir, the frogs were croaking, the Fence Lizards were out sunning themselves, and the kids were tired.

Me too, mostly because I got home late from the concert last night. At least I no longer have to go directly to work upon leaving a venue.

Today, Martin Luther King Day, affords us the opportunity to reflect on, amongst other things, pacifism. In all honesty, I squandered this opportunity because we were too busy combatting the rising tide of junk that threatens to overwhelm us if we relax our vigilance for more than a moment. It's not that I don't place importance in the reasons behind this holiday - it's just that, like with many people, the everyday stuff gets in the way. Actually, as far as holidays go, this is one of the more important ones. I just wish that there were more people in the world like Dr. King - people willing to rise above the everyday stuff and go down in history as having made a difference. Of course, we all make a difference in some way. I feel I make a difference at my job, for instance. . .

Okay, this is starting to be a ramble. I just wish more people would get the message, especially those running this country. Stop the fucking violence. Break down barriers wherever they exist. Relax a bit. Smile. Embrace differences. Try something new.

The weekend rushed by without even saying "excuse me" as it brushed past. We were too busy to notice anyway, stooped over picking things up and brushing things off. The garage has a couple of clean patches in it now. The clover out front is now in the yard waste bin. Some of the junk in the backyard is gone. Some shelves inside are neater. Lots of dishes were done. Lizard cages were cleaned. Butts and noses were wiped more times than one would think possible. Floors were picked up and vacuumed. Knitting was done. Books and newspapers were read.

I recycled some Christmas wrapping paper I found in the garage, noting as I separated paper from ribbon and bow that It was all from a year ago. We've got to get out there more often.

I wish I had more time to draw and write. Most of what I write here is rushed - first draft quality only. Not that it's meant to be polished. After all, it's just a journal.

I don't think I mentioned that I got a raise. A smallish one to be sure, but I'm not complaining. We're still in quite a hole financially, so anything that helps us climb out a little more quickly is welcome. We're even talking about selling things on Ebay to bring in extra cash. We'll see...

Here's some photos from yesterday's hike. The deer skeleton was found by a kid who made a wrong turn and wandered off the trail. The local F.B.I. (that's Fungus, Bacteria, and Invertebrates) had already eaten all of the good bits.










This evening, I took Jen and all of the kids up to see one of the night programs at work. On our current budget, free entertainment is always appreciated. It was kind of nice to sit back and watch my co-workers do all of the work while we drank tea (the grownups) and hot cocoa (the three older kids - poor Willow fell asleep and missed it). Thursday's program is always the science camp version of Jeopardy, followed by a dance. The Dickens was in the thick of things the whole time we were there, while the boys, perhaps a bit intimidated by all of the big kids, hung back a bit. They still had a good time though. When Willow woke up and found out that she was at a loud dance, she wasn't too happy, so we left.

No clouds at all today, but still cold in the shade. There was a thin coating of ice on my car windows this morning.

It looks like the computer is going to act poopy so I can't upload any photos. Perhaps another time.

More kids were added to my field group today due to the new guy being ill. More rain was added to the ground due to the clouds being full. While hiking out in the rain with our increased numbers, we found four different types of salamanders and newts, and one forlorn Fence Lizard clinging to a rock. The poor thing must have been hiding under something that got flooded, and forced to crawl up the rock to avoid being drowned. It was so cold that it barely moved at all when I picked it up. A little later, we found a dying newt. The poor thing was emaciated, but with no other external indication of what the problem could be. Perhaps parasites, or perhaps old age?

The kids' teeth were chattering by the time we got back to camp for lunch.

The clouds disappeared during our night hike, and when we walked out from under the trees, diamond bright stars were scattered above us. There's nothing like stars after the rain

It started raining midafternoon today, and has been doing so of and on ever since. The woods were still wet from previous rains, and the new batch of campers endured mud and trails transformed into streams. The medical/behavioral notes we get every Monday came up mostly blank for my group. No selective mutes or ADHD kids or seizures or strange allergies this week. The new guy, for his first week of teaching, got a kid with a bad limp who would lose a race with a slug and a kid prone to seizures (or was that one in somebody else's group...?).

I talked with the limping kid and he said he'd broken his ankle a while ago. He has no cast or brace, and isn't using crutches. It reminds me of when I messed up my foot last year and limped for three months or so. I'm an adult though. Somebody should be taking better care of this kid. Maybe it's a health coverage thing... we have an interesting mix of schools this week - 0ne from affluent Cupertino, and one from East San Jose, which is more of a low-income area. I wonder if this kid has parents who just can't afford to take him to a doctor.

At home, we're still cleaning and organizing, especially since the landlord is dropping by again tomorrow to inspect the squishy floor in the bathroom. Jen actually called him this time. We don't want anybody to fall through the floor, which has probably been softened by water (leaky toilet seal?) enough to pose a danger.

I got a new nightlight for the King Snake too. It'll help keep him warm.




What? You looking at Me? YOU LOOKING AT ME?

My work week ended in a torrential downpour, with the students hurrying to their buses with whatever rain gear they possessed clutched tightly about them. We always line up to say goodbye to them as they file past. Some of them hug us. Sometimes they cry as they leave. Some give us high-fives. I noticed that my selective mute student pretended that none of us existed as she walked past. Strange. It makes me wonder why she is the way she is.

Anyway, after work I went home for awhile before setting out again to get M and the equipment needed for the show up in the city. I wasn't really looking forward to driving all that way in the rain, but we got to the venue without any problems, traffic or otherwise. The fact that an auto dealership exploded (gas release caused by plumbers, or so the media reports) just a block from the freeway along the route didn't even add any travel time.
G met us at the venue, with R arriving later. We were second on a bill of three bands, playing upstairs above a bar that is apparently a weekend yuppie meat market sort of place. The start time was late, after 10 pm, and by that time lots of familiar faces were in evidence. Our set went pretty well, with nothing too unexpected happening. R introduced us in his William Burroughs voice, and things flowed along nicely through our half hour set. G and I wore lichen masks that M had put together over the previous week, and choir robes that G had borrowed. M wore a Lone Ranger type mask and horns that he'd super glued to his head. We played lots of non- instruments and mishandled some real ones. Afterwards, we got lots of compliments, which is always nice. The last band, and I Am Spoonbender side project simply known as Spoonbender 1.1.1, projected an early Cronenberg film, Crimes of the Future, while playing the voice track from Cronenberg's Stereo. They layered their own sounds over this, complementing the film(s) nicely.
At the end of it all, while I was driving the van from its parking place on Mission St. over to the club, I noticed that the power steering was out. I had a moment of hoping that it was just a flat tire, which would have been more easily remedied, but no such luck. We loaded everything into the van anyway, and G got a cab because I figured I wouldn't be able to get him back home. M came with me, such he had no other option. I found I could turn well enough if I wasn't attempting to do it from a standstill. This made intersections tricky though. Then, to add to our troubles, the battery light came on, the temperature gauge started rising, and the defroster stopped working. And of course it was still raining as well. Despite my better judgement, I made it onto the freeway, but soon gave up the hope of making it home and pulled over. Upon getting out and looking under the hood (during a particularly nasty downpour) we discovered that the timing belt was hanging limply down like a sneezed up tapeworm.

I called Jen, since I realized I had no idea what her insurance covered as far as towing went. My own roadside assistance insurance expired last August. Jen, despite being wakened by my call, made numerous calls, most of which ended up being routed to small offices in Kansas or Ohio or East Nowhere. She finally found a small towing company covered by her insurance. The guy who eventually came was this stand-up, consistently hilarious teamster type who genuinely liked helping people in need (for a fee, of course). He said the only reason he agreed to come out in the rain and drive the nearly 100 mile round trip was because Jen had been so nice on the phone (apparently most people in need of his services are not). Jen should be a diplomat. Of course, being a parent involves lots of diplomatic work.

Anyway, the driver regaled us with stories of his family, his work, and his encounters with petty criminals on the hour plus drive home. He'd even once been thrown out of the club that we'd just played at. Really nice guy though.

By the time I got to sleep, it was 6 am. Yay. I woke up several hours later to watch the kids while Jen and Uncle Jay wrestled with a newly purchased timing belt outside in the rain. Eventually they won the match and now the van works again. For once, watching the kids was the easier job. I felt guilty.

The gravity at Lexy's school must be stronger than average, because it pulled Lexy to the ground and broke his arm again - in the same place he broke it a few months ago. Shit.

I found this out at the end of a very nice five hour hike, during which the kids behaved quite well for fifth graders. I was actually worrying about people falling too, if only because I forgot my walkie-talkie. Little did I know that when they did try to reach me that it would be to tell me about Lexy falling.

Ah, well...







These spiders caught some fog this morning, allowing me to finally get a couple of decent web photos. Webs on the web. What next?

And here's a quote from one of my student's journals that I can refer to if I ever start questioning my career choice: "The solo-hike is an unforgettable experience. To express my appreciation to the instructor, I think "thank you" might not be enough."

If indeed people are having unforgettable experiences up in the woods, then they will grow up to be defenders of the woods. The wild places enrich our lives, even if we don't often set foot in them.

I should be in bed, but...

The rain held off today, but evidence of recent rains was everywhere. We hiked up the creek and several people got wet feet. Later, we hiked in the dark and got ambushed by puddles. Tomorrow it is supposed to rain and rain. Friday it is supposed to rain and rain and rain.







Here's some witch's butter. Good on toast? I'll never know...

It feels great to be back teaching kids. As usual, they're excited to be up at camp. One kid was evidently so excited that he puked just as he got off the bus. I'm glad I'm not the janitor this week.
I have one girl in my field class who is a selective mute. Apparently she won't talk to adults. I guess I won't call on her to answer questions then. Despite this interesting inhibition, she seemed to be having a good time. All of the other kids were great too. So far, at least.
The clouds lowered themselves into the valleys, but did no more than coat everything with mist. Rain is promised for later in the week.

Once again I am enslaved by my alarm clock. Its piercing cry jolted me from my dreams and forced me to my feet in the predawn light this morning, much like it will do for most of the rest of the year. I imagine that our distant ancestors were healthier, being allowed to sleep in until their body clocks awakened them. Of course, sometimes they were attacked in the night by predators, so maybe I shouldn't complain.

Work today wasn't really work anyway. It was a long meeting, during which we discussed such fascinating subjects as the 5th and 6th grade science curriculum. Not so bad, really. I'm glad to be back at work, reinvigorated after some time away and ready to add to my repertoire of teaching skills.

There's part of me that wishes I could stay home and finish de-cluttering the house. We've made headway with this project, but have a long way to go. Our efforts are hampered by four little clutterers, who delight in undermining us.

One of them is now standing next to me demanding milk and threatening to kick me if I don't comply. When is she going to learn that threats of violence are a bad tactic to use when asking for stuff? Of course, this never stops our lovely government...

The new year was ushered in to the tune of wind and rain. In time honored tradition, M, G and I were out in it at midnight making improvised "music". We always choose an area somewhat of a distance from any main thoroughfare. Last year we were close enough to a traveled area to scare some people off with our racket, so this year we went out into the woods in the rain and secreted ourselves inside a large Redwood stump. We almost made it all the way there without flashlights, but the presence of swiftly flowing water in some of the gullies combined with the near total blackness of the stormy night confused me somewhat.

The stump itself is open to the sky, but sheltered under a faerie ring of Redwoods which kept out most of the rain. Through the trees, a foggy smudge of moon provided the only light.

We made the confines of the stump our own for a small time, rejoicing in the glistening wood and the freedom to make as much racket as possible. When things got too silly, as they must always eventually do, we packed up and sloshed back to the car.

G and M slept over. Jen made a huge breakfast, including a lovely coffee cake that she stayed up late making the night before (of course, we all stayed up late talking and just generally hanging out - for a fleeting time getting to act like we had no responsibilities). The kids got overexcited, as they always do in the presence of guests.

So the year starts, in the company of family and friends. I wish this could be so for everybody.

Jen and I took the Christmas tree down today. Tomorrow I go back to work and the boys go back to school. The holiday season is over for another year. Time to forge ahead.

We begin the forging by playing a show at the Elbo Room in San Francisco on Friday.

It is dark and windy outside, with rain occasionally making itself heard over the Tarantula Hawk cd I'm listening to.

The old year is not long for this world, but like all years it will live on in our imperfect memories. I'll remember this year as a difficult one, but it may also prove to be a year where the seeds of future prosperity first took root. It's too early to tell. We started the year off with Willow being diagnosed with anemia. She had a feeding tube in her nose for her first birthday. That was hard, but she got better and is now a laughing, happy almost-two-year-old. Losing the paper route was a mixed blessing. It was a struggle for several months, one that we're still not completely recovered from. It was during this time that we realized that the clawed fingers of debt really do have a firm hold on us. Unlike this nation we reside in, we plan to do something about this.
I left behind not only the paper route, which I had for sixteen years, but also my job at the museum, which I had for six and a half years. I still have two jobs, but they're two different jobs than the ones I started the year with. Both of the new ones are more interesting than the two I left behind, and one of them is a something that I would consider a "career" job - or at least a good stepping stone towards a career. For now I'm content with what I'm doing. We still don't have health coverage though. That gives us something to work on over the course of the new year.
We're also both on an organizing kick. I've been going through drawers and shelves in an attempt to neaten things up and make it less of a struggle to find things. I've found all sorts of things that I'd quite forgotten about. My favorite so far are these little stickers that can be affixed to the bottom of a drinking glass so that when the drinker looks down into it the words "you have just been poisoned" are visible. I'm also finding all sorts of anti bush/anti war material from the reign of Bush the first. It's a shame that after all this time it's still relevant.
At any rate, our lives will go much more smoothly if we get rid of lots of crap. Clutter really sneaks up on a person, squatting on shelves and lurking under beds. Tripping us in darkened hallways.

I just bought the extended version of Return of the King. We're still waiting for the boys to go to sleep so we can watch it.

I paid cash too. No more credit cards for us.

Christmas went well. I won't bore you with too much detail. Gifts were exchanged. Good food was eaten. Nobody got sick or injured. Large groups of people converged on each other. Our house has mostly recovered from the chaos, but boy is there a lot of stuff to recycle and throw out now.

It's raining outside, with more on the way. The streets are slick. That makes me think of all the poor people in Asia who just got hammered by tsunamis spawned by a 9.0 earthquake. 22,500 dead at last count. We should all be thankful for each day we spend on this Earth. There's no telling when it will end.

Here at home we've just started the last week of the year, a week during which very little seems to happen. It has always been a time to step away from the routine and reflect. It's a time to take a deep breath before plunging into the new year.

Don't forget to occasionally come up for air.

I spent a few hours at the museum today, doing the last bit of paid work for the year. Now that I'm an ex-employee, as I mentioned in an earlier post, I'm getting paid a lot more for my services. It's rewarding in and of itself of course. The kids just love getting up close to the reptiles and arachnids. I even saw a couple of co-workers from my newest job there.
The only down side to the afternoon was when the python bit me. He's getting less predictable these days. Since I was in front of an audience when it happened, I turned the whole experience into a demonstration of how snakes constrict their prey, using my hand and arm as a stand-in for the python's accustomed meal.

This is the first year that I've had any substantial time off around the holidays since I started working. I kind of like it.

Today was my last day as an employee at the museum. I took all of the snakes with me to tie in with a "things that wriggle" themed event for a group of girl scouts (although there was a boy with them, so maybe I'm mistaken about the whole girl scout thing...) who have been doing different themed activities all week. They started out in the garden looking for worms and ended their day with the snakes. Cute kids. One kid even knew about Mangrove Snakes, which are a personal favorite (for their beauty, not their dispositions).

I'll miss my coworkers and the relaxed work atmosphere. I'll miss all of the regular visitors. Some great things happened while I was employed there. It's also a shame that I won't be there when the new early childhood exhibit space opens. On the other hand, I won't miss the pay, which was quite poor.

Onward.

Of course, I'll be back there the Monday after Christmas, but not as an employee. Now when I take reptiles and other critters to the museum, I do it as a contractor. That means I get paid a lot more. I like that.

Willow has been pretty thrilled about the reptiles lately too. When I brought the snakes home she followed me around saying, "snake! snake!".

Okay, The Dickens is in here shouting at me now. "I wanna eat the pamaytos that my mommy got at the store!" Time to go. The kids have been staying up way too late lately.

It was unexpectedly windy today, no doubt because I swept the garden patio at work this morning. The wind spent several hours eliminating all traces of my labors, kicking up leaves in a series of dust devils and spitting all manner of debris onto the pavement.
It was all right by me actually. I like windy days.
At one point, a visitor came out and attempted to light up a cigarette. I informed him that this wasn't allowed. He groused and grumbled, but complied. As he left, I could hear him muttering, "damn environmentalists!"
I almost laughed out loud. I contemplated toying with him a bit, but decided it wasn't worth it. It sure was tempting though. Tomorrow is my last day on the job, so I could argue with impunity if I wanted to. There's just something about people who mutter half-understood slogans under their breaths that amuses me to no end. An environmentalist is, after all, a person takes action to prevent our environment from being compromised. In this case, I guess, an environmentalist is somebody who prevents children from being exposed to second hand smoke from the cigarettes of people who can't master their addictions long enough to enjoy time at a children's museum with their families without sneaking out to the garden to light up.

I guess I should go easy on the guy. A lot of people are visiting from out of town for the holidays. He's probably from a red state.

I worked at the museum today and it was actually pretty busy. This must mean that some people have finished their Christmas shopping. The line of cars approaching the off ramp leading to the nearest mall was still there though. It's kind of sickening really, this strange herd mentality, this lemming-like rush to consume. Sure, the purchases are gifts, but something is missing... And yes, we've purchased gifts for people this season too, but mostly for the kids, and definitely not at the mall. Malls are sort of like baited leg-hold traps to snare the working class so that their wallets can be safely removed. I could get into a rant about the true meaning of Christmas here, but I'm not a christian, so I won't. Oh wait, I forgot, in this country all of the holidays have the same meaning - $$$$$$$.

I think the pagan observation of the solstice is much more important and meaningful, much more connected to natural cycles. Happy Solstice!

It wasn't too happy a Solstice for Willow, who fell off a chair while attempting to clamber onto the table. She's okay now, but Jen was worried enough to call me at work after it happened. She fell hard enough to bloody the inside of her lip pretty severely, so I came home early so Jen could take her to urgent care to get it looked at. Fortunately, she checked out okay. Her lip is still puffy and red though.

I tattled to the landlord about the tree trimmers today too. That felt good.

Trees were purchased and erected. Our decorations have already suffered the indignity of being pulled off the tree and thrown to the floor by Willow. She's really excited about this big, green plaything with all of the small, removable parts. We're going to have our hands fuller than usual this week trying to fend her off.

This morning, the tree trimmers showed up and began chainsawing things. The dead trees in our front yard and outside our bedroom window were taken out. This probably means that the poor mushrooms that were feeding off of them will die.
Not content with this, the trimmers invaded our backyard and started lopping off everything in reach, including some branches big enough to shake the house when they hit the roof. Our hummingbird feeder and our outdoor fireplace proved to be less sturdy than the roof. The guy in charge promised to replace them after I yelled at him. I'll bet it won't be that easy though. No replacements have shown up yet.




Willow in Treeland.

I survived my week as a janitor, but don't think I'd like to repeat the experience. I did get a little break on Thursday due to one of the other instructors being sick. I took her field class hiking for the day instead of cleaning toilets. Much more fun.
Over all though, it's pretty depressing to be a janitor. I don't think I could do it for much longer than a week. Imagine getting up in the morning and knowing that your day will be filled with dirty toilets and nasty trash cans full of all sorts of stinky things.
It's also interesting to note that many students, even after a week of instruction on global responsibility and conservation, including such concepts as reusing and recycling, still throw their damn plastic water bottles in the garbage instead of the recycling bin. I must have pulled thirty recyclable containers out of the trash on Friday.

Today I worked at the museum and did a science birthday party for which I got tipped ten bucks and some really good Indian food. Every little bit counts.

We got more free furniture today as well, thanks to K. Our garage is full to bursting with old stuff now (like it wasn't before...) and we're still in the process of getting all of the new stuff arranged and sorted out. Jen is busily working away at various knitting projects. The kids are busily working away at preventing her from getting them done.

The whole week is supposed to be sunny, which is a shame. A cold, windy holiday season would be fun.

I'm in the middle of a week working as a substitute janitor while the real janitor is living it up down in Mexico somewhere. It's a sort of humbling experience because it's one of those jobs that most people look down on. Of course, things would fall apart pretty quickly without the janitor. I have a big, jangly ring of keys that allows me access to everything, including all of the toilet paper and paper towel dispensers, the pool, and the soda machines. I now know where all of the supplies are kept. I get to enjoy the school when all of the kids are out on the trails. Much more quiet, except for the singing of the Pacific Tree Frogs who live in the hedge.
I spend most of my work day cleaning the dining hall and the bathrooms. The dining hall needs to be swept and mopped after every meal, but that's not too big a deal. The bathrooms, especially in the morning, are pretty trashed. Apparently there's some confusion among the students about where to put used toilet paper. It's also very apparent that boys don't often wash their hands after using the facilities. I have to replace the paper towels in the girls bathroom about twice as often, if not more so.

I appreciate our janitor even more now that I've walked around in his shoes for a few days. Especially after cleaning the bathrooms. Apparently once somebody even pooped in the sink. I'm glad that hasn't happened this week. I'm also glad that nobody has puked. I'm even more glad that this isn't my usual job. That would be pretty depressing. Not a whole lot of mental stimulation involved here. Just lots of cleaning, the majority of which necessitates the donning of disposable gloves.

Today, while mopping the dining hall and talking to one of this week's classroom teachers, I discovered that the teacher I had in fourth grade is her father's cousin. He must be ancient by now. I remember that he had a grey crewcut and read us The Hobbit. Not much else though.

That's it for now. Much to do, as always.

Two more days of this and then I'm done. Next week I'll be working at the museum for a few days, and then quitting that as well.

More notes from a trip north:

12/12 10:12 am, Portland airport

Finally, some down time, but only because the flight that I got up so early this morning to catch was cancelled due to some sort of mechanical problem. Oh well, it's better than having a problem manifest itself in mid-flight.
Besides this, everything went pretty well this weekend, at least on our end. There was a little bit of difficulty in gathering up people at train stations in Seattle on Friday. Sound manipulator Colin Potter arrived by train at about the same time his daughter was supposed to show up, but one of the train station addresses given was in fact a pier. This caused some confusion, but was resolved after some transatlantic phone calls. Later, at Electric Heavyland, where he was also supposed to perform, he didn't have time for a proper soundcheck, but his set, mainly utilizing a laptop and effects, sounded great to everybody anyway. People were still filtering in as he finished due to the fact that even though Seattle residents are very used to rain, many of them have no idea how to drive in it. For example, Brad from Flesh Eating Ants records arrived four hours later than he planned because the bus he had taken down from Vancouver got into an accident.
By the time we started, the store was pretty packed and all the windows were steamed up. things went pretty well, with the expected minor glitches that we probably noticed more than the audience did. We met some cool people and got a lot of compliments before heading out to eat at Elysium Brewery, which featured a range of comforting vegetarian food and bottomless glasses of brewed-on-site ginger beer.
Then we went back to William and Leslie's and stayed up too late making lots of little Nurse With Wound buttons to bring down to Portland. The next morning we headed over to Anomalous Eric's for a home cooked breakfast spread of tofu vegetables, tempeh, and toast. Afterwards, we crammed into Eric's and William's vehicles, gathered our stuff and headed south for Portland.
As we left, the sun was shining for the first time during our stay.
In Portland, there was a bit of tension due to the fact that Steve's flight was due to touch down about an hour or so before the event at the Doug Fir Lounge. One missed connection or delayed flight (such as I am experiencing right now) would mean he wouldn't arrive on time. Since he was the main attraction, his absence would cause trouble. In addition to this, the art for Sunday's (today's) art show was still in transit somewhere between Ireland and Portland.
Chris and Heather from Beta Lactam Ring, despite the stress level, were great hosts. We gathered for a little while at their house, had coffee and bagels, and then headed over to the Doug Fir Lounge - a newish venue that has the appearance of a rather posh yet rustic restaurant and bar complete with interior decor that outdoes the wood-paneled look by using whole logs instead. Log paneled, I guess. More than one person compared it to something one might see on Twin Peaks. Nicely lit too, with a good sized stage and attendant sound man. Oh, and a grubby little "dressing room" with nachos, fresh fruit, water, and beer.
As we set up our equipment, the sound guy commented that it looked like we were having a garage sale. Fair enough, I guess. Instruments included things like a mini-vac (which we forgot to use), rulers, pepper grinders, and other odds and ends.
We got everything ready, hung around for a bit and socialized, nervously rechecked things (with one moment of panic - later resolved - when a backing cd refused to work).
Chris drove off to pick up Steve at the airport and arrived back with him while we were eating in the upstairs restaurant. Steve had basically come straight from a vacation in the Canary Islands, with very little sleep in between, but was ready for the evening anyway.
The place was really crowded at this point and we started seeing familiar faces from past shows. People had come from various far flung places - Dallas, Minnesota, London, Japan, and probably others I'm forgetting or never knew about. Lots of people came from Seattle and Eugene. And Moe! came up from San Francisco. Way to go Moe!
Colin played first - a completely different set from the previous night. He utilized a lot of Nurse With Wound sound sources, manipulated via laptop, mixing board, and some theremin-like device. Very nice, despite the loquacious hipsters and barflies in the audience.
Our set went well too, with a few minor feedback problems (William later said that they didn't detract from the show, which is good). The people near the stage looked attentive, but there was a lot of bar noise filtering through. We ignored it.
At the end of the set, we got Steve and Colin onstage for a virtually unrecognizable version of Nurse With Wound's Coloorta Moon - Steve on slide whistle and Colin on Dr. Suess drum. This was the segue leading into Steve's DJ set, which succeeded very well in holding the audience's attention for the next hour or so. There were even a bunch of people dancing.




Afterwards, lots of people claimed to enjoy the proceedings. We wandered around and talked for a good while before finally being driven out by the thumping dance party that took over the lounge into the wee hours. We got back to Chris and Heather's place well after midnight and stayed up talking until 3 am or so - At least that's when G and I went to bed. A few of the others stayed up even later. I would have too, but I thought I had a 9:45 am flight to catch.
So here I sit, writing this all down while waiting for my 1:15 pm flight.




Later, in the air, more photos were taken...







Jen and all of the kids met me at the airport. Slightly before this, The Dickens had managed to slide down a slide and splash down into a puddle of some other kid's puke. Home sweet home.
They were glad to see me. I was glad to see them. This is the longest I've ever been away from Willow.

Tomorrow: my week as a janitor.

Some notes from a trip north:

12/9/04

We're sitting inside a stationary train in Klamath Falls, OR, awaiting our appointed time of departure from the station. Breakfast this morning consisted of leathery scrambled eggs, potatos, a croissant, orange juice (bottomless), and coffee (also bottomless). I'm still thankful that I didn't order grits like M and G did - they resembled (the grits, that is) congealed cream of wheat, which G maintained tasted like rubber.
Breakfast was on the train, of course, because the journey started last night, with the train arriving an hour late to the station in San Jose where M and I and a number of other hapless travelers waited. When the Amtrak Coast Starlight finally showed up, we found seats upstairs and headed north. G joined M and I in Berkeley, but unfortunately left the train door open long enough for some deranged folk singer to get in. Thankfully, once inside the train she refrained from singing, opting instead to steal G's seat while he stood talking to us.
Again the train continued northwards. We all tried to sleep, except for the folk singer, who compulsively walked back and forth between cars for several hours.
The cough I had at the beginning of the week is mostly gone, but has been replaced by a snot faucet of such proportions that I have already used up a whole packet of tissues. Despite this, I did get some sleep, waking up every so often to peer into the darkness and rearrange my arms and legs. Trains, if this one is indeed typical, allow much more leg room than planes, which is nice because I've never been able to sleep while flying due to inadequate space and the fact that some flight attendant always manages to whack me in the elbow or foot with the service cart.
Morning found us towards the top of CA. The ground was blanketed in white and the trees marched greyly southward. Mt. Shasta loomed on the right for a time, striped with snow and snuffed with morning mist. The cold barrenness of our surroundings was and is a beauty to behold. It makes me wonder what it would be like to live way out here amongst these leaning shacks and slushy farmyards.
Hell, we even saw some Llamas.




10:21 am

We were delayed for around an hour in Klamath Falls due to bureaucratic miscommunication (track report sent to the wrong place... or was it wrong track report sent to right place... or was somebody just inspecting belly button lint instead of the tracks...?) and inclement weather. We have since passed Upper Klamath Lake, where I saw a Bald Eagle perched in a tree (first time I've seen one in the wild), and are currently squeaking and clacking our way through silent, snow covered evergreen forest. The sky is close and uniformly grey.
We've just stopped for some reason. Hmm... G and M appear to be sleeping.




5:50 pm

In Portland it's drizzling and dark. Many miles still to go. G and I had a spirited discussion with a fellow passenger in the dining car about revolution and what idiots Bush and his cronies are. Whether or not they're idiotic enough to be the catalyst for a revolt was the point of debate. I maintained that people are too comfortable in this country and have too much to lose (in most cases, anyway). Our fellow traveller wasn't so sure.
I've finished one book, The Troublesome Offspring of Cardinal Guzman by Louis De Berneires (hilarious and tragic at the same time), read another, I Wake from a Dream of a Drowned Star City by S.P. Somtow (Oedipal!) cover to cover, and started a third - The Human Chord by Algernon Blackwood (musical!).
I've also spent a lot of time watching the scenery whip past. The Cascade Range, all mist wreathed and snow clad, was beautiful despite occasional evidence of logging activity.
We're hoping the train gets going soon. M and G are both reading. I think I'll follow suit.

12/10 11:30 am

We're staying at the house of William and Leslie, owners of The Electric Heavyland record store and of the Enterruption record label. William picked us up in the rain last night and we took most of our musical stuff over to Electric Heavyland where we're scheduled to play at 6 pm today. They've both proven to be excellent hosts and have the good taste to share their home with a couple of cats, one named after a cool japanese punk band.
Really nice store too. I wish I had more money.

Continued later...

We've done our last rehearsal before heading off to the Pacific Northwest for a couple of shows. It apparently takes 23 hours to get to Seattle by train. Once there, we're playing at a record store called Electric Heavyland. Then we're popping down to Portland to play the Beta Lactam Ring Records event at the Douglas Fir Lounge. That's the plan anyway. Afterwards, I'm taking a quick plane flight back home so I can fulfill my lifelong ambition to be a janitor for a week.

Last night the wind howled and spat bits of tree and shrub all over our yard. It spat bigger bits of tree into the neighbors' yard. I drove G. back up to Berkeley in the rain and wind, stopping by to drop off stuff and pick up a paycheck on the way. In Berkeley, we discovered that the new issue of the UK music magazine, The Wire, has our pictures in it. This is because it has an article on irr.app.(ext.), which we knew about in advance. It's always cool to see yourself in a magazine though. I think the last time that happened to me was close to twenty years ago in Maximum RocknRoll - as an audience member.

In addition to this, I sold a bunch of cds and for the first time refrained from taking the profit in trade.

We're slowly but surely figuring out our finances for the holiday season. I managed to pay some bills today, which made me feel a bit better. Jen bought some stuff online for the kids, which will make them happy later this month. Still lots of stress though. It makes me wistful for those childhood Decembers when the blissful anticipation of loot eclipsed all else. Oh to be young and greedy again. With that in mind, we'll make sure the young ones have a good holiday season so that when they grow up they in turn can be wistful.

I now have tickets for the upcoming trip to the northwest. We've rehearsed some more for the shows. I got my driver's licence renewed. I did another reptile/bug party. The art exhibit at 21 Grand opened. I'm a year older... The list goes on.

The woman who helped my renew my licence talked in a whispery squeak, making it very hard to understand her. She was also the most observant DMV employee and was the only one to notice when people taking written driving tests were talking on their cell phones. She had to gesture to other nearby employees to go out and bust them. It was kind of fun to watch, actually. If you're caught talking on the phone while taking a test you have to start the test over again. People sputtered in disbelief when confronted with this fact. One woman loudly compared the DMV to nazi Germany - all because she wasn't allowed to cheat on her test. People are funny.

The reception for the art show went pretty well. People were complimentary and there was pizza.

The kids this week continue to be a pleasure to teach due to their pre-existing knowledge. Because of this we can get more in depth with the subject matter. They also held up really well on the long hike today, which ended up being the longest hike (in terms of miles) that I've ever taken a group on. Finally, a Thursday during which nothing out of the ordinary happened.

One of the other groups found a pot pipe along the creek though. None of the kids recognized it for what it was. There is hope for the youth of today after all.

At home, we're all coping with colds, lack of sleep, and/or general stress over the fact that we don't have enough money. I get paid once a month, so by the time each check comes its already spent. This pay schedule wouldn't be a problem if we had had any money saved to begin with, but we've been struggling for months now, trying to catch up. Maybe next year we'll manage.

As I mentioned earlier, I'm part of an art show that opens on friday at 21 Grand in Oakland. It's entitled A Breach in the Ghostly Skin and also features artwork by M., G. and another guy who I just met on Monday. It was all set up by G's girlfriend D., and will feature a dance performance by her and music by the wonderful Blackbird Stitches. The reception is at 8:00 or 8:30 or some such time.

Saturday Jen goes to the craft fair and both M. and I have birthdays. Sunday I take reptiles to another birthday and get paid for it. Next week G., M. and I go to Seattle and Portland to do a couple of shows. This is all pretty stressful too. It should be fun once all of the details (rehearsals, tickets, etc.) get ironed out.

Life is busy and frantic but full of excitement.

I was expecting to observe other teachers this week to get an idea about teaching stategies and games I might not know, but due to the absence of one of my fellow field instructors I'm teaching instead, which is fine by me because it pays more and we need the money. As an added bonus, the kids this week already seem to know everything, so they're very easy to teach. On the first day, as I stopped to talk about a Douglas Fir tree, I noticed a large salamander wedged under an exposed root. When I dug it out I discovered that it was that holy grail of local salamanders - an adult Pacific Giant Salamander. This is the first adult I've seen - it was a beautiful reddish color mottled with black. An impressive find, but unfortunately I didn't have my camera.

That evening, M. and I went up to 21 Grand in Oakland to hang some art for a show that opens next weekend.




Around midnight, while driving home after dropping M. off, I collided with a deer. The poor thing didn't have a chance. It was standing between lanes in the freeway around a blind curve. I had time to slam on the brakes and start to swerve, with tire smoke filling the air behind me. It had time to turn around to meet the front left side of my car. The impact tossed it into the air and shattered the plastic and glass housing for my left turn signal. Nothing I could do. I try not to think about it too much.

Today I remembered to bring my camera to work. The ground was covered with frost, so the scorpion I found was pretty cold, huddled under a log and barely moving. It warmed up and walked around after being held for a bit.




I've also been becoming more interested in fungi. I'm still not too good about identifying specific types, but being out in the woods during the rainy season is a real eye opener for me. There are interesting mushrooms everywhere. Here's a photo. More to follow, I'm sure.

I've worked at the museum for the past couple of mornings, just for old times sake, oh... and for the money. This morning, a woman asked me if I was the guy who sometimes brought bugs and reptiles to the museum. I replied that I was, and she told me that her son has a picture of me with a tarantula, taken a couple of years ago, on his wall. She went on to say that ever since that particular visit he's been collecting "weird things." She wasn't sure whether to thank me for this or not.

Ha. My plan is working!

Speaking of weird things, I think I've finally interpreted a recurring dream I used to have as a child. The dream went something like this: It always started with a feeling of absolute serenity, illustrated for my oneiric eyes by a slate of uniform, foggy grayness.
This didn't last though. At some point there was an enormous gasp, like a sharp, collective intake of breath. As this was happening, the serene gray fractured and became a writhing, convoluted tangle of edges and lines. It was like the worst thing in the world had happened.
I've talked to other people who have had similar dreams. At first I was thinking about how it's a great metaphor for how needlessly complex our society has become - a society where time-saving devices ensure that we have time to do all sorts of stuff that really doesn't need doing, and where we depend on things that we don't understand - but after more thought it seems to me that it's probably a memory of being born. The transition from the peacefulness of the womb to the sudden assault on our senses is supposed to be the most difficult thing that ever happens to a person. That means, like other bad things that happen, it will leave a lasting impression on the memory, even if it is only on a subconscious level. When we're born, the clean slates of our minds don't have the wealth of symbols that we rely on later in life to help us put things in order. When we're born, we are inundated with raw, alien data. It must be absolutely overwhelming. So overwhelming, in fact, that we can only remember it in dreams.

Something to think about, anyway. Anybody else out there have dreams like that?







Etch-a-Sketch artwork by Lexy.

Since this week camp ends on Wednesday, today was our last full day with this batch of kids. I hiked my group up creeks and down trails and up trails and down trails again for nearly six hours. They held up pretty well. We had to keep moving because it was pretty cold in the shade. It was even colder later on when we went on the night hike. The moon was up, so it was relatively easy to see (except for one of the cabin leaders assigned to my group, who had no night vision at all). Afterwards, we all looked at the moon through a telescope, which is pretty cool because the craters and various other pockmarks stand out very clearly. Too bad none of the planets were visible. We then ended the evening by putting on a dance for the kids. Tomorrow they all have to leave, which is a shame because they are really getting a lot out of this experience and they're all really good kids. Perhaps some of the seeds we've planted this week will take root.

Here's some photos from today.




The afternoon session of the aphid eaters anonymous meeting. Todays speaker dealt with the issue of insect gender confusion.




Ensatinas like having their pictures taken. California Newts apparently don't.

The kids we're teaching this week only get to stay at the site for two nights and are leaving on Wednesday. They're from a school in a low income part of town, so for the most part being to go to science camp in the hills is a really big deal for them. They're all really excited and appreciative. I took my group exploring, with less than the usual amount of games. We all felt that it would be best just to get them out in the woods for some real hands-on investigation of the local natural communities.
These are the types of kids that make this job so appealing. This is a great chance for them to see beyond their own neighborhoods and glimpse the natural wonders that surround us. I wish everybody everywhere could get a chance to do this kind of thing.

It's cold tonight, with the moon shining bright.

This weekend brought us crystal blue skies filled with leaves flipping down from the trees and skittering across the ground. It's been pretty cool in the evenings, which is just the way I like it. The cold that we had during the week left the door open on its way out, and another cold pushed its way in before we could close it. Round two is much like round one. More snot. More headaches.

Speaking of snot and headaches, I don't like the fact that the U.S. government is making rumbling noises about "Weapons of Mass Destruction" in Iran. This, of course, will be the next target if the ever manage to "secure" Iraq. It's pretty transparent really. Take over Iraq, and then use it as a base from which to strike out at everybody else in the region. It's going to be a long four years, and I'm sure the mess will haunt us for the forseeable future.

Meanwhile, glaciers all over the world are starting to melt. Welcome to the 21st century. Now go home.

What's a person to do? I went and sold some books to get money to buy gifts for the holidays. Actually, I traded books for store merchandise because they only pay cash for hot ticket items ("Da Vinci Code," the lady told me). I also went and played scientist at a birthday party. The birthday boy, who was only nine, recited the whole periodic table for me. I can't even do that. And finally, G. and M. and I got together to rehearse for the irr.app.(ext.) shows now looming on the horizon. I even bought a couple of new nose flutes to replace the dozen or so I've lost, given away, or inadvertently destroyed.

Meanwhile, Jen made lots more stuff for the craft faire, Willow said more new words and ate some paint, The Dickens pooped in her pants and called people names, and the boys made messes and revised their dietary requirements for the umpteenth time. Chaos reigns. Poverty threatens. Christmas displays mysteriously appear, beckoning to the unwary. Most of the time we're too busy to notice.

Thursday is always long hike day. It also always seems to be the day where unexpected things happen, like the wasp attack of several weeks ago, or a kid having to go home in the middle of the hike because grandma had taken a turn for the worse. Today somebody managed to soil himself during the solo hike. Another kid managed to soil his shoes and the little shovel we use for digging latrines. Another field group experienced similar problems.

Shitty day, I guess. Actually, it reminds me of a story I once read. Our local trolley system is referred to as the Light Rail, but during the planning stages one of the names being considered was Santa Clara Area Transit. SCAT for short. Some of you may see the problem with this... Scat, as any science camper knows, is another word for, well, shit. "Hey mom! Let's go ride the poop train!" Eventually, somebody pointed this out, so now it is blandly known as the Light Rail. Of course I always tell this story to my students, who delight in spotting "Santa Clara Area Transit" on the trail.

I let the Rattlesnake go today. I took some photos first though.







I wasn't able to find that immense Pacific Giant Salamander again, so I had to settle for an Ensatina instead. They're pretty cool too, of course.

I'm still feeling a bit under the weather, but less so than the guy I'm subbing for this week. The latest word is that he's not going to be in at all for the remainder of the week, which I guess is just as well because: (a) I need the money, and (b) I left a small Rattlesnake on his desk. It wouldn't do for him to get to work before me and reach into the wrong bag. Actually, it's in a cage, so in reality he probably wouldn't have any trouble. This all came about because the snake had been spotted by some kids outside one of the cabins, and I was the only person in the immediate vicinity who was willing to move it. I decided to hang on to it for a day or so in order to show more kids. Tomorrow I'm letting it go.

I also saw the biggest Pacific Giant Salamander that I've ever seen. It still had gills, so it wasn't even an adult yet, but it must have been nearly a foot long. I'd like to try to get a picture of it if it's still lurking around in the creek tomorrow.

Later, before the night hike, a bunch of us went down to an Ethiopian restaurant that I hadn't been to before. Very nice. I love Ethiopian food.

The night hike itself went okay, but most of the kids were too scared to hike far. Timid bunch. Oh well.

I was going to spend the week observing the other instructors at work because I didn't get a lot of time to do that back before I started, but due to another instructor being ill, they needed me to teach instead, which is just fine because I get paid more that way. I'll have to observe when he's feeling better.

Willow has an ear infection, we think. Jen took her to have it looked at. Poor girl. She's been cranky and fussy today. I've got a bit of a cold myself, complete with runny nose and general achiness. These things are always worst in the evenings and early morning. During the day the symptoms recede. I did start to lose my voice after a couple hours of teaching this afternoon though.

M. and I had our first rehearsal in preparation for a couple of shows slated for next month. More to follow.

And finally, R.I.P. Jhonn Balance (1962-2004). I've pulled out some of my Coil cds and I'm again struck by how moribund most of their music is. Prescient maybe. His creative input into my life and the lives of many others will be missed. He did indeed leave his mark on the world before moving on, which is more than many people do. Very unfortunate.

Uh... you want fries with that?

I forgot to mention yesterday that the electrician came and fixed lots of lights, including some that haven't worked since before we moved in here. It's strange to see them working. The one over the mailbox mysteriously comes on all by itself at night so people can see the large, paintless rust patches on it. Time to paint the mailbox I guess. Or maybe we should just take it down. It's always full of catalogs and bills.

I worked at the museum today, forgetting that Veteran's Day is always horrendously busy. I'm going to work a few more shifts over the next month and a half and then quit, since I'm hardly ever there anyway. It's good to have it at the moment though, since we're still playing catch-up with bills and whatnot. The paychecks from the new job have an annoying habit of arriving on the tenth of the month, after all of the bills are long past due. Still much better than not having one at all. I shudder to think what would have happened if I hadn't gotten the job.

I'm not working anywhere tomorrow, but I'm poking my head in at both of the part time ones to sign up for a double time shift at one and return supplies and fix a possible paycheck snafu at the other. Life is busy. Not enough time lately to engage myself in creative endeavors.

I went hiking in the rain for a couple of hours today...




Sometimes it seemed as if I was in the clouds.




Here's the farthest point that we ever take groups of science campers to.




In dark corners, slugs lurked.




And in the misty light of day, there were stranger creatures still.

We finished up day two of the ropes course without any rain falling on us. There were a good number of yellow Maple leaves drifting down from above, painting the ground with random patterns. It's supposed to rain tonight and tomorrow.

While marching around near the ropes course, I gathered some Madrone bark and a little bit of Yerba Buena to make tea with. At home, I stuck it all in a tea ball and inundated it with hot water. It tasted more like bark than Yerba Buena, due no doubt to the disproportionate amounts of my ingredients. Jen said it tasted like the woods smell. That's a good description - very "woody" in flavor. Very good, in an odd sort of way. Next time I'm going to add Douglas Fir needles and Bay Laurel leaves to round out the flavor. I kind of like the idea of gathering things from the woods and using them. I'm staying away from mushrooms for the time being though.

The landlord came by today and witnessed for himself that six of our lights don't work. A visit from an electrician has been promised. Lights at the end of the tunnel!

I'm not teaching science camp this week, unless one of the salaried teachers gets jury duty. Won't know for sure until the last minute. In the meantime, I'm keeping busy by helping out on the ropes course for a couple of days. Same pay. This time it's fifth graders. Pretty agile ones at that. Some of them could climb like spiders. We got half the class today, with the remainder coming tomorrow.

It's strange being up there at the school and not teaching the science campers. I'll be back doing it next week though.

At home, the cheap portable cd player in our room is on its way out. It usually takes many tries to get it to play a cd. Tonight I gave up and am actually playing a cd on the computer. I'm being dragged inexorably into the 21st century here. Next thing I know I'll be listening exclusively to Em Pee Threes or something. At least I still have a linen closet full of vinyl to save me from the soul sucking emptiness of the computer age. In the meantime I'm enjoying a cdr of the Ex-Girl show in San Francisco last May. Three loud Japanese women with an unusual fondness for frogs. Thanks to M., as usual, for recording it and making copies.

The electrical system in our home is getting quirkier. The landlord is coming to see for himself tomorrow, so we've been doing some cleaning so it doesn't look like four messy kids live here. Jen's been at it most of the day, and I've been at it most of the time since I came home. I'm playing hooky right now.

Okay, that's it for now. Willow just wandered in.

My work schedule for the rest of the year is quickly filling up. People in this profession seem to be somewhat nomadic, so that means plenty of extra work opportunities to those of us who lead more sedentary existences. We've still got a long way to go before our finances look good, but I'm grateful to have the opportunity to do something about it.

It's hard to believe that it's already November. It's only been four months since I stopped delivering newspapers, but it seems like much longer. I think I'll quit the museum too. I'm hardly ever there, and I keep getting extra work at my new job, not to mention my other part time job. Not much time left over for the museum. Not much time for reading, watching movies, or listening to music either. I do miss that. As fun as my new job is, I'm looking forward to the holidays.

At least Jen and I get time to ourselves after the kids are in bed, but often one or the other of us is so tired that all we do is fall asleep. Tonight, the girls are asleep, but the boys are out with Granny seeing a stage version of Peter Pan. They'll probably go to sleep pretty quickly when they return though.

One of Willow's more recent words is "cheese." She definitely has her priorities straight.

Sleepytime Gorilla Museum played the final show of their tour up in San Francisco last night. M. and I went up to see it, and what a show it was! Shinichi and a small horde of Butoh dancers from Inkboat shared the stage with them. There were audience sing-a-long bits. There was some Moe!, even though he is no longer an official member of the band. There was a lot of very cool anti-Bush sentiment bubbling through the band and crowd as well. This made it even more of a cathartic experience than usual.

I have this thought that the east and west coasts should secede, and that we should gather together the far-flung remnants of the Berlin Wall and rebuild it around Washington DC, so nobody could leave. It would be sort of like sandbagging along the banks of a swollen river, except in this case the flood we'd be preparing for would be a flood of idiocy.

But enough of this talk about the small minded little cretins who continue to run this country. It's depressing. I spent another day outside, with a line of children trailing behind me. It was misty and cold, with the rain setting in towards the end of the hike. One kid had to leave halfway through (a classroom teacher and his mom came up to get him) because his grandma was dying. Maybe there's a thursday curse in effect. This is the second thursday where something unexpected happened. At least the one Yellowjacket nest we passed didn't trouble us. This week the Yellowjackets were all off stinging one of the other field groups - the one led by the other new guy. His experience wasn't quite as all-encompassing as mine was. Only two people got stung - the field leader himself (on the neck) and the kid who'd stepped on the nest (six times on the knee). Later, I told him that it must be some sort of secret initiation for new instructors.




This is a California Newt. We found yet another mutant one today, with an extra toe on its left front foot. The one pictured above had the correct number of digits. So far I've found three mutants, all with toe deformities.




This is what I call a good work environment. The camera ran out of memory at this point, so I wasn't able to photograph the strangely twisted, mist enshrouded Madrone trees further up the hill. Maybe next time.

I'll refrain from commenting on the election until all is certain. It looks like things are going to go badly though, and that's a great understatement.

As we hiked through the almost complete darkness under the Redwoods tonight, I often found myself feeling for the trail with my feet. I could see the black on black shapes of trees looming ahead and on all sides, and used them as markers. Then, in the middle of the trail, like a beacon, there appeared a small point of luminescence. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a small grub of some sort, like a mealworm, but glowing with a greenish blue light. I walked back along the line of nervous fifth graders and showed it to them. We all agreed that it was a pretty cool thing to find in the middle of the trail in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night.

Later, after the moon had finally risen and I was at home, I looked it up on the internet and discovered that our find was a Glow Worm. It's not really a worm, of course. It's the larva of some sort of fly.

Now we just have to worry about who or what will be this country's beacon in the dark.

We're all just sick with anxiety about the elections tomorrow. Will that beetle-browed, knuckle dragging simple minded pile of day old donkey dung win? We definitely hope not. Voters, use your brains, not whatever else it is that you have been using. This is serious business here.

At work this morning, a coworker found a Black Widow on her desk. Possibly Iktomi the trickster god. I carried her around in my little bug house for awhile and showed her to the kids. Then I let her go along the San Andreas fault.

Using Bela Tarr's "Werckmeister Harmonies" as inspiration, I had the kids perform a solar system dance. I was the sun, and the kids were all planets and moons. The planets revolved around me, and the moons revolved around the planets. At the end of it all, the solar system was in chaos. Neptune was closer to the sun than Jupiter. Mars and Earth shared an orbit. Only Pluto and the planetoid Sedna kept their distance.

I used this result as an example of what happens when a system breaks down, then went on to talk about the ecosystem.

More excitement around here this week. On friday, I waited with Jen for a portion of her interminable stay in the hospital waiting room. She has mastitis. Check her blog for the gory details. She's a little better today, thankfully. Still far from 100% though.
While I was there, a miserable, quivering man was moaning and stumbling around with his little plastic bowl. Every so often he'd fill it and shuffle over to the bathroom to empty it so the process could begin again. I talked with the guy sitting next to us for awhile. He helpfully filled me in on why to avoid the Alma st. DMV at night. His jaw was held together with wire and pins, due to an encounter with a baseball bat near said DMV. He'd also been stabbed in the chest with a five or six inch knife ("the kind you can buy at liquor stores") and was lucky to be alive. The people who had attacked him got a dollar bill for their trouble. It makes me glad the local DMV is open again after remodeling.

M. and I took the kids to get pumpkins on friday. Here's some photos.






Today is my first day off in about three weeks, so I'm going to go do day off stuff now. Happy Hallowe'en!

It was sort of like a scene from "The Swarm".

It happened on a long hike along a narrow trail winding through Redwoods, Tan Oak, and Madrone. A kid near the back of the line (19 students, 2 teenage cabin leaders, and me) stepped on a Yellowjacket nest. This means he had walked of the trail, since the nests never seem to actually be on the trails. The first I knew of it was when kids started yelling and running past me. A girl near the back of the line had collapsed to the ground. I ran back and quickly figured out what had happened. There were Yellowjackets in the girl's hair and all over her clothes. She was screaming and crying. So were several of the others. I started picking and flicking the angry insects off of her. The other kids and the cabin leaders were helping as best they could. Up the trail somebody was shouting that the kid named Shadow had "swallowed a bee." I ran up the trail to find him shirtless, hunched over and making gagging sounds. One of the other kids was slapping him on the back. For some reason, somebody else was pouring water on him. The water was mixing with the blood that seemed to be coming from his mouth, or possibly his nose. It was hard to tell.

Kids were running everywhere. Another boy had also taken off his shirt because Yellowjackets had crawled inside it. Several of the students, frightened by the bloody, gagging boy, had retreated back down the trail. I was sure that the boy was having an allergic reaction and going into anaphalactic shock. As I fumbled for the med kit I called for help on the walkie-talkie. At this point I was not too calm and trying to do several things at once. Of course this never works too well. My co-worker back at home base got my location and told me to work on trying to calm the boy down, while checking his records to see if he had any history of allergic reactions to insect stings. I wrapped my jacket around him and talked him into a calmer state of mind. Gradually, his breathing improved. The blood was wiped away by somebody. I noticed a welt on his neck where he had been stung. On the outside, thankfully. My co-worker said that she and one of the classroom teachers would meet us on the trail with ice and vinegar (vinegar, a mild acid, counterracts the effect of wasp venom, which is a base). Slowly, the cabin leaders and I got the kids moving. The kids themselves were helping as best they could. Carrying the possessions of their wounded classmates and helping calm them - even telling jokes to try to get them to laugh. One boy even carried my backpack (in addition to his own) so I could carry the girl who had been stung on the head and face. This girl, as I carried her up the trail, kept saying she missed her mom and wanted to die. She even tried to apologize for being heavy (thankfully she was one of the lightest kids). I just kept talking, explaining what had happened and telling them that the pain would ease up soon. At the apex of our journey (we had continued up rather than go down past the nest again) some of the kids were even singing. Soon afterwards, we met up with the rescue party. Ice and vinegar were applied to wounds, and we marched back down the hill.

Seven kids had gotten stung, three of them multiple times. The boy who had been stung in the neck was fine. By the time we started downward, even the swelling had disappeared. The girl who had been stung on the head was walking with an icepack on her head under my hat. One of the other boys, who had been a bit of a troublemaker on previous days, and who had been at the forefront of those helping on the trail, revealed that he too had been stung. During the crisis, he hadn't complained about it at all. Not one word. Talk about a stressful situation allowing a person's true qualities to shine through.

Later, at the assembly before recess, I stood up in front of the school and gave them a commendation for courage and selflessness. It's amazing to see kids (or anybody else for that matter - but especially kids) help each other out in times of confusion and pain.

I'm not taking that trail next week.

I've been looking through the journals the kids have been keeping this week. Here's what a couple of them had to say about tuesday's night hike: At first I was nervous and scared but later on I thought dead people were following me, and I learned that trees have been here for a long time. They can tell stories if you just listen. I like the part when I was walking alone. I felt that there were guardians behind me. I felt enjoyable, safe and peaceful.

The girl with the guardians didn't get stung.

At home, The Dickens, in her best no-nonsense tone, stated that, "someday I can put ice in poop and coffee." Then, after some thought, she added, "someday I can put medicine in my butt."

Keep it surreal.

We got to witness a lunar eclipse tonight. I was up at the school, helping out with Wednesday's night program, so we all got to pause and turn our gazes skyward. The moon was obscured by a brownish-red shadow, made hazy by a sheet of thin clouds.

The night program centered around the Lorax. We performed a short play based on the book (I played the Onceler!) and then had a mock trial where the kids got to ask the characters questions in an effort to determine who was guilty for the destruction of the Truffula trees and the resulting woes of the Barbaloots, Swamee swans, and Humming fish. Everybody was found guilty.

Yesterday, on our anniversary, I hiked our group over to Sanborn park and we all sat down in the grove where we got married two years ago. It's as beautiful as it ever was. The kids thought it was pretty cool. I thought it was pretty cool too. It was too bad that I had to spend the whole day away from Jen. I don't feel that I've been working this job long enough to start requesting random days off.

Tuesday night's hike in the dark went pretty well. As usual, a number of the kids were scared, mostly because of movies they had seen. The moonlight, filtered by clouds, occasionally brightened into moonbeams that slipped between the silhouetted boles of the Redwoods and whitened segments of the trail. Beautiful.

I got paid $150 for bringing a good portion of my critter collection to a Halloween party way out in the East Bay on Sunday. The people who had hired me for the party during which the Monitor bit me were in attendance. They asked to see the scar. There really isn't much of one - just a little red mark on the inside of my ring finger.

Speaking of ring fingers, tomorrow is our second anniversary. Two years of wedded bliss (and constant kid chaos). We've been through a lot together in that short time. I look forward to many more years togother. Maybe some day we'll actually get to relax. Or go on a honeymoon.

I now interrupt this post to rush off and help The Dickens who just pooped in her underwear...

Okay, I'm back. The Dickens has been in fine form lately, spitting milk and cussing out inanimate objects. Earlier she stepped on the soiled Tickle Me Elmo doll in her room, and when it giggled at her she shouted, "stupid Omo! Stupid pants!" I'm not really sure whose pants she was referring to because Elmo wasn't wearing any.

The kids at camp this week are sixth graders, which means there just that much closer to being 7th and 8th graders who, as everybody knows, aren't to be reasoned with. Sixth graders are all right though. I feel more on top of things this week because it wasn't raining today. Rain really does interrupt outdoor classes. Tomorrow it's supposed to pour. I'll be more prepared for it this week.

I had a meeting at my other job tonight. The woman who hired me taught my (for two weeks, anyway) old Monday afternoon class this week - the Lord of the Flies one. She had no more luck than I did in controlling them in any way. That made me feel better.

I worked some extra hours today helping out on a ropes course up among the redwoods. A small group of local African American youth and their mentors came up to spend some time doing some team building activities. One of the other weekday field instructors was on hand to help as well, along with an actual ropes course guy to handle all the real work. As helpers, we just hooked people to ropes and belayed them as they inched across cables strung between redwoods, or attached them to pulleys so they could go zipping along cables through the trees. Everybody had a blast, and afterwards the group invited us to join their next activity, which turned out to be a djembe lesson, taught by a man who used group drumming as a metaphor for life (if you lose the rhythm, don't just keep playing - stop and listen so you can find the rhythm again...). It was a lot of fun, even if my hands and wrists hurt afterwards. Over all, we sounded a lot better than those drum circles I used to hear up in Berkeley all of the time. Much more rhythmic. Playing with a group of people is a bit of a departure for me. I usually fiddle around by myself with random instruments. It takes a lot more discipline to play with a group. My fellow field instructor was more used to it, having his own djembe. In fact, most of the people I work with at this job are musicians. It makes me want to learn more. I'd like to be able to successfully play with a group.

The man who had put this all together is also a documentary filmmaker. I listened to part of the inspirational speech he gave to the group, and he struck me as a powerful speaker as well - very forceful and positive. His latest film is called "A Killing in Choctaw", about a racist killing in Alabama. He was nice enough to give me a copy of the NY Times with an article about it. I'll have to see the film if it makes its way to the area.

It rained off and on while we were up there, and the clouds crept over the hills below the tops of the trees, shrouding the area in a shifting white curtain. The air smelled of pine.

The clouds took a break for most of the day today. We hiked further and saw seventeen newts. It was still kind of cold in the shade, and the evening was colder still. I stuck around to work the Thursday night program, which involved a "game show" of sorts where cabin groups answered questions about things that they had been taught over the course of the week. Since they were allowed to work as teams, they did pretty well. Afterwards, there was a dance, which was pretty exciting for the kids. It was fun just to watch them have fun.

I'm pretty tired though. I haven't seen my family since this morning. By the time I got home, everybody was in bed. Lexy was still awake, but I think he's asleep now too.

The amphibians were out in force today. Newts and salamanders, encouraged by the wet ground, seemed to be everywhere. One girl in my group even found a mutant newt. Two of its back toes were fused together. The newt promptly became the visual element of a talk on amphibian mutations, and how many scientists view amphibians as sort of a global "indicator species". Amphibians, due to their porous skin and other factors, are more susceptible to harm from environmental changes than most other animals are. In other words, if something goes wrong, they're the first to go. And that's exactly what is happening.

When the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, the forest steamed. It was beautiful.

Later, the night hike went by much too quickly. The kids were sort of loud, but quieted down after a bit. The rain stayed away, but the clouds made stargazing difficult.

I'm tired. When I got home everybody was in bed already. That sounds like a good idea.

It came down in torrents today, mostly while I was teaching field class. Most of the kids came prepared. Those who didn't made do as best they could. The trails all contained rushing rivulets of water, and many times their normal coverage of leaves. The Madrone trees were especially pretty, glistening redly in the wet. We gathered around one ancient Douglas Fir and took turns gazing up the mossy trunk into the branches as the rain cascaded downwards into our faces. Too beautiful to really describe here unless I lapse into poetry, which I won't.

Later, we saw a newt and a couple of banana slugs on the trail, which made the kids happy. I finally managed to catch the tarantula living in the junction box near the nature lab. He proved to be quite docile once picked up. The kids whipped out their disposable cameras to record the moment.

I didn't manage to teach all of the things I planned to because of the rain, and I think the other instructors had the same problem. It's hard to focus games and lessons while being pelted by rain. It's kind of distracting. Some of the kids were kind of uncomfortable, and my backpack full of journals got pretty wet.

Okay, I'd better go read to Lexy now. More tomorrow.

It rained overnight, but the day dawned mostly clear. The hills around the school have that fresh, after-rain smell. The dust on the trails has been beaten down and turned to mud. Newts and slugs are rejoicing.
Three schools converged on us this morning. My field class is a mixture of students from the three. On the list of medical information/special needs I notice that I have a couple of ADHD kids, one girl who has "extreme energy", and a boy who is "inattentive". This last fellow fully admitted to his malady during our first group meeting, and then went on to demonstrate it. Over all though, they seemed like a good group of kids, class clowns and all.
I'm honing my style this week, building on last weeks experience. The first few weeks of any new job are like this - constant improvement and improved retention of all of the little details. This job has lots of little details, most of them revolving around the camp routine. The field class part is pretty straightforward though. Take the kids into the woods (or chapparal, or riparian area) and teach them things. Of course, the things that we have to teach them are pretty specific. There are standards involved here.

It's quiet outside right now, but it's supposed to rain before morning. Tomorrow will be wet, but that doesn't bother me. We need the rain.

It's raining! I just heard the long awaited sound of droplets rustling through the trees outside the window. It's not exactly a downpour, but it's something at least.

I did a couple of birthday parties today. I got tipped ten bucks and a cupcake at the first one, and twenty eight bucks and cake with ice cream at the second one. The second party was for a kid that Lexy went to school with for the last couple of years. The mom works with somebody I used to work with. One of the guests works as a bus driver who sometimes drives kids up to where I presently work during the week. Small world. Good cake.

I'm working for a couple hours at the museum tomorrow. It feels like I haven't been there in ages. It's been more than half a month anyway.

Friday is the day that the kids who have been at camp all week go home. For our final hour together, I had them haul lots of kitchen scraps down to the compost pile for some hands-on learning experiences. Some kids smashed old apples into smaller bits, some stirred things around with the pitchfork, some sifted, and the rest watered and weeded. Then we sat down in a circle and shared thoughts about the week. Most of the kids enjoyed the solo hike the best. A couple of kids got a little teary eyed at the thought that they would soon be getting on the bus.

An hour or so later, when they actually were getting on the busses, many of the kids (and some cabin leaders & teachers) were crying. They had us sign autographs. They hugged us. They all looked so sad. I don't blame them. Next week they'll all be sitting at their desks in sterile classrooms, which can never match the woods and streams for a learning environment. Next week I'll be leading around a bunch of new kids.

It's a powerful experience, seeing people moved to tears and knowing that I had a part in it.

The kids in my field class are upset that the week is almost over. I don't blame them. Next week they're going to be back in regular school. Today they were walking by themselves (along a trail marked by me) and experiencing the solitude of the wilderness. As they ended their solo treks, I had each of them in turn roll the sheep knuckle bone dice. I then interpreted their rolls and told them their fortunes (yes, it was relevant to the class - it's similar to games the Ohlone Indians played, using simple objects from their immediate environment). The least well behaved kid's roll was interpreted as "your thoughts and ideas are bad." Maybe these dice really work. I soft-pedaled the "bad" fortunes of course. There are ways to make bad fortunes seem good. It's all in how you look at them.

The girl who was feeling sick was back in class today. Her mother came up to the camp and brought her some medicine. Yay!

On every hike I take, I look under at least a few logs and bits of bark for small, interesting creatures. Today I found two things of interest. the first was a mother Tarantula and her egg sac (see below), and the second was a pair of sunglasses. I'm not really sure why sunglasses were under a log, but what the hell - free sunglasses! I always get sunglasses for free. I either find them or people give them to me. With this in mind, it's not really too surprising that I'd find a pair under a log in the woods.




For once I refrained from picking it up, because I didn't want to disturb her more than I already had. This type of Tarantula tends to be a bit grouchy anyway. The absence of urticating hairs on their abdomens means that their first line of defense is to rear up on their hind legs and wave their fangs at you. They don't actually bite - at least I don't think they do. I was holding one once when it went into defensive mode (due to kids crowding around to look more closely) and it went so far as to lunge at the palm of my hand. The fangs never went in though. It was all bluff.
Note also the insect wings scattered all around it. I think they're from termites, but I could be wrong. I'll have to look into it.

I spend a lot of time playing games with this week's group of kids. They're having a lot of fun learning, which means that they just might learn something. So far we've covered photosynthesis, energy cycles, community comparison, food webs, adaptation, geology, native animals, and little bits of other pertinent information. One girl has been hanging in there all week even though she's been feeling sick. Today she had developed an earache. I hope it's not an ear infection.

The kids, when asked to guess how long I'd been teaching for this school, decided that I must have been there for ten years (give or take). That's a pretty good compliment for somebody who's only been there for three days.

Speaking of food webs:




It has been hot this week. There has been none of that gentle morning fog that made last week's mornings so beautiful. There are already plenty of leaves on the ground. Up in the hills we rustle through the fallen leaves of Tan Oak, Madrone, Live Oak, Bay Laurel, and others. Ravens croak down at us from high up in the Redwoods. Stellar's Jays mimic hawks in the Madrone trees, and Crows peck at morsels out in the lower field area. It's exciting to be up in the hills during the autumn, since my previous experience with this kind of work is teaching summer camps.

Willow now says "ciao" to our italian neighbor. Not even two and already bi-lingual!

Today we wandered further afield, exploring creeks and forests and chapparal. Many creatures came under our scrutiny. The creek was home to Pacific Giant Salamander larvae, California Slender Salamanders, Water Boatmen, and a good number of other small, wiggly things. Up at the edge of the chapparal, I found an Alligator lizard and a scorpion co-existing under a log. The scorpion ran up the outside of my pants and did its best to hide near my zipper. The kids all held up their disposable cameras, paparazzi-like, and snapped dozens of pictures. One kid even had a digital camera, and is probably the only one of the lot who got a good picture, since the disposable ones won't focus at distances under three feet or so. The lizard bore the scrutiny with bad grace, but the scorpion posed on the end of one of my fingers for more photos. The kids were excited enough about this to run and tell everybody they met about it.

The facilities manager clued me in to where to find a tarantula on the grounds as well. It lives under one of those cement electrical junction boxes, which is set flush with the ground on one of the lawns. It quickly ducked out of sight down its secret escape hatch when we lifted the lid. Maybe tomorrow I'll get to show it to the kids.

My first night hike as a leader went pretty well. This week's fifth graders are a bit more fearful than last week's sixth graders were. A couple of the girls even cried a bit, but I talked them through it. It's a pretty big deal when you fear something and do it anyway. I made sure that they knew that. Afterwards, we lay on our backs in the field and looked at stars. We should all do this more often. I feel fortunate that I can do this and get paid for it.

I spent 12 hours at my new job today and felt like I could have kept going at the end of it. Granted, there was some down time between leading field classes and performing at the campfire, but the day just flew by. I'm ready to do it again tomorrow. I'm still learning things, of course, but I feel that my first day was a success. I met a few more people coworkers as well, and tons of kids (5th graders this week). There are seven teachers from two schools staying at the camp along with their students this week. One of them, bless her heart, brought along an espresso maker.

I saw a whole murder of crows circling overhead in the evening, and as I left for the night two enormous stags crossed the road in front of me. Lovely.

The kids are excited and attentive. I have 22 in my field class. I'm working hard at memorizing all of their names. I'm more than halfway there, I think.

Yesterday, our whole family went up to the school so I could check out some new trails. We ended up hiking over to where Jen and I got married a couple of years ago. Here's a picture of Lexy and a little girl who rarely sits still.