Occasionally I'll spend time looking through my old blog posts. It can be fun to revisit what was going through my head on the same day during previous years. Recently, I rediscovered a blow-by-blow account of a day three years ago. The day was posted on February 22nd (although it was actually the 21st that I wrote about, so I've just realized I'm one day off. Oh well), so yesterday I spent the whole day paying attention to the details of my day, writing little notes down throughout. A lot has changed in the last three years, and it is interesting (for me, at least) to compare the days. So, without further ado, here is yesterday:

6:55- I wake up and realize it's not even 7 yet, and promptly go back to sleep.

8:45- That's more like it. I wake up again, and microwave some veggie bacon and make cinnamon toast. I pour out the coffee that has been sitting in the pot since before I went to Chicago. Make new coffee. I check e-mail while having breakfast, sending e-mails to Jen (letting her know I'll pick Willow up from softball practice) and Jeanine. I also read an update from David Tibet about the upcoming Current 93 shows in London, and decide I want to go. I follow a link to the Myspace page for Lili Refrain, and decide I want to get her cd. I pause to reflect on the hidden costs of the internet.

9:30- Gather materials to pack and mail the Anathema "We Are The Bible" 7" to a guy named Ross in Australia. This will probably be the last Ebay item I sell in awhile. I think I've made over $600.00 on Ebay over the last couple of months.

9:44- Unpack, looking for receipts from the trip so I can balance my checkbook.

10:00- Sitting in front of a pile of receipts, preparing to tally them.

10:16- Checkbook balanced. $165.00 left for the month. Time for a shower.

10:41- Getting dressed.

10:50- Stopped in the middle of getting dressed to crop photos and upload them to Flickr.

10:55- Decide to just crop and choose photos now, and upload later. Back to getting dressed.

11:00- Putting away clean dishes.

11:05- I return a call to Gabriel, who is the father of one of Willow's friends from preschool. We discuss potential playdate dates for the girls. I mention elephant seals, and Gabriel relates a story about how he went to see them but was turned back by some mysterious, awful stench - he describes it as potentially lethal.

11:20- Finish getting dressed.

11:30- Leave to walk to the library, Post Office, and grocery store.

11:40- Standing in front of the library, I discover that it opens at 2:00 PM on Mondays. Walk to the post office across the street.

11:45- At the post office, discover that there are no flat rate envelopes in the usual place, and wait in line with my unpackaged record to get an envelope from an employee.

11:55- I get an envelope, stuff the record inside, hurriedly address it, and mail it. On the way out, I drop a check for my car insurance in the proper slot.

12:00- Walk across parking lot to grocery store. Buy $40 worth of groceries, including bread, burrito supplies, hummus ingredients, and ice cream for Willow's birthday.

12:12- Walk home.

12:22- Put groceries away.

12:25- Make hummus and listen to the news on my radio/I-pod dock.

12:39- Eat hummus with bread, reflecting as I do that perhaps I put in too much yogurt or not enough garbanzo beans. It's too runny to make a sandwich out of, so I simply dip the bread into it. While dipping, I check e-mail.

1:00- Digest. Do dishes.

1:11- Start uploading photos to Flickr and editing remaining photos from trip.

2:26- Decide to stop editing/uploading photos, and walk to library to straighten out current difficulties (historical note: around a month ago, 9 items that I didn't check out appeared on my account, and the library wants to charge me late fees and replacement costs) and then on to nearby store to buy Willow some birthday presents.

2:35- Talk to librarian.

2:37- Talk to librarian's supervisor. She hems and haws for a bit, first trying to give me the number of somebody at the main branch in downtown San Jose, but finally relenting and waiving the fees (due, in part, to the fact that the missing items, being in Spanish, are very dissimilar to what I usually check out). I feel a weight lifted off of me, and depart with a spring in my step to round up some birthday loot for Willow.

2:40- Walk to nearby store.

3:04 - $40 later, emerge from store with doll clothes for Willow, and a new razor for me. Walk home.

3:11- Check mail. Nothing.

3:12- Hide presents on top of closet. Sit down and contemplate having a cup of coffee. Wait for photos to finish uploading (52% complete).

3:33- Finish choosing which photos to upload next.

4:01- Still uploading and naming photos. Perhaps now I will have some coffee.

4:03- Coffee from this morning is still warm enough to drink without microwaving. Yay! I drink it black to help preserve remaining warmth.

4:20- Tallying up how much I spent today. Sadly balancing checkbook.

4:30- $93.81

4:36- Drinking water and eating dried fruit mix. Blogging (transferring travel journal to blog).

5:00- Save blog without publishing, and name some more uploaded photos.

5:10- E-mail Jeanine.

5:20- More journal transferring.

5:30- More photo uploading.

5:48- Leave to get Willow from softball practice. Listening to Sheila Chandra "Abonecronedrone" as I drive. It is a promo cassette that I've had for nearly two decades, I think. My converter that allows me to listen to my I-pod and/or cd player in the van no longer works, but I'm enjoying listening to old cassettes for the time being.

6:00- I arrive at the softball field (at Willow's school) in time for the after-practice parent meeting. Jen is there, as is Nathan. Willow has a new haircut, and it looks very cute. She can hardly contain her energy as she listens to the coach talk to the parents. Nathan comes over to me and tells me what a good job Willow did during practice.

6:15- Jen hadn't realized that I was taking Willow for dinner (in part, due to the fact that me being gone threw off our schedule a bit, and in part due to the fact that she evidently didn't read the e-mail I sent earlier) but it's fine with her. Initially, Willow wants to go home with her mom because that's where all of her new birthday presents are (her birthday isn't until Thursday, but she had a party this weekend). I tell her I brought her things from Chicago, and that more or less changes her mind. Going to Jen's van to get Willow's street shoes, we run into Sophie. Sophie wants to come to my place too, so I leave with both girls in tow. Willow tells me about her birthday party as we drive.

6:33- Arrive home.

6:40- Make quesadillas for girls and show them some pictures from my trip. Break the news that it's no TV week, and that this includes DVDs. Make quesadilla for myself, with added hot sauce.

6:45- Eat, and get frozen peas out for the girls.

6:55- Attempt to prevent Sophie from smashing frozen peas into the linoleum.

7:10- Figure out how to pull a long stream of colored paper, magician style, out of my mouth (a giveaway from the convention). Watch girls play with the paper and try to stuff it into their mouths to emulate me. I inform them it is a one-use product.

7:15- Prevent girls from watching a DVD. Listen to Sophie make up funny insults. Girls' talk degenerates into discussions and demonstrations of farting.

7:20- We put Willow's blooming rock (a rock that grows crystals when submerged in vinegar) into a bowl full of white vinegar. I explain to the girls that it doesn't bloom immediately. Sophie asks if she can drink the vinegar. I let the girls smell it. They make disgusted faces.

7:22- I give Sophie the 5 olives she asks for.

7:30- Tickle fight!

7:35- Turn off laptop.

7:38- Sweep frozen peas off floor. Notice that there are still 4 olives in Sophie's bowl. I tell her to eat them. She ignores me.

7:40- Drink a half cup of coffee.

7:46- Finish coffee. Leave to drop of girls at their mom's house.

8:00- Drop off girls. Admire picture that Sophie painted for Willow. Head for work, still listening to Abonecronedrone.

8:20- Arrive at work.

8:25 Turn on heater to boys' cabins, and grab Night Talk board (a large foam board with explicit instructions for getting ready for bed - a visual aid for the students)to bring down to the amphitheater where the students are loudly enjoying the campfire program.

8:30- Play tarka and sing "Bats Eat Bugs" with Jellyfish, Bunny, and Falcon, then lead the cabin leaders away to have a quick meeting with them. I introduce myself and give them general advice about the nighttime routine, and give them a step by step description of what happens after the campfire programs ends. I answer some questions as well, and then we all return to the campfire.

8:50- Sing "Humble", the mellow closing song, with my aforementioned coworkers, then start the night talk. I give instructions for getting ready for bed, general advice, and answer questions. One student wants to know what would happen if an escaped robber appeares on the premises in the middle of the night. I move on from that one quickly, so other students don't start worrying about robbers too.

9:15- I dismiss students by cabin group and douse campfire with nearby hose. I arrive back at The Hub (camp office) and use the mic to remind students to walk. I realize I forgot to tell anybody about the second set of bathrooms. I use the mic to remedy this. Then, I walk around playing the tarka, using the mic tucked under my arm to amplify it.

9:25- I talk with 3 girls who got in trouble for "looking in windows", and then with a little homesick girl. After awhile, she seems to feel better, so I tell her to go get ready for bed.

9:50- I ring the 5-minute warning bell, and talk with the teachers who are signed up to do night patrol (walking around to make sure cabin lights are off and students are quiet). The homesick girl reappears and wants to talk with her teacher. They go off to talk somewhere.

9:55- I ring the final bell and wish the camp goodnight over the mic. I turn off the mic, and the teachers start the night patrol.

10:00- I plug in my alarm clock and my laptop, then meet with the teachers, introducing myself to the new ones. I recognize about half of them from last year. I then post the hopper (meal server) schedule for tomorrow's breakfast and lunch. Then, I show the teachers where the switch for the heater is located, and wish them goodnight.

10:05- Pour a steaming cup of herbal tea and check e-mail.

10:17- Upload more photos.

10:29- Two girls peek their heads in the door to ask if they can go to the bathroom. I tell them they can.

10:30- Finish uploading for now (80 more photos) and prepare to go check Riker cotton (cotton squares used for a leaf-mounting activity done later in the week) levels.

10:31- As I'm about to walk out the door, a cabin leader brings over a weeping, homesick boy. I give the boy a quick pep talk and send him back to bed.

10:38- Somebody has left the door to the old dining hall open. I go in, pick up the trash can that Raccoons have dumped, and check Riker cotton. There is enough so that I don't have to cut new squares tonight.

10:42- E-mail Jeanine.

11:13- Just spent a half hour monkeying around on the internet. I'll now go dig out my sleeping bag and prepare my place (dubbed "Crow's Nest") on the top bunk in the Hub.

11:28- Sleeping bag, pillow and blankets in place, I go out to walk around camp. I hear Raccoon noises.

11:33- Back in. There are a few frogs singing out in the darkness, and a half moon playing behind a thin layer of clouds. It is cold, although nowhere near as cold as the -51 degrees Fahrenheit reported by the broken weather gauge outside. Almost done uploading photos. Next, I'll name them.

11:37- Check online weather forecast. Rain over the next two days! Yes!

11:38- Start naming photos.

11:56- Done naming photos. Start uploading last batch.

11:58- Another walk outside while photos are uploading.

12:00- Turn off heaters to cabins (to be turned on again at 6:00 AM).

12:12- Naming photos as they upload.

12:18- Creating Twist & Shout photo set.

12:28- Done creating set. A male Great Horned Owl is hooting outside. I'm going to go out and listen to him. It's very cold outside.

12:35- I surprised a Raccoon in the process of sneaking toward the trash. He ran off. The owl is still hooting.

12:36- Turn off computer and go to bed. The heater in the Hub isn't working, so I keep my sweat jacket on. I'm still cold, but quickly warm up once under the blankets.

For the last fifteen years, nearly every time I've traveled, I've brought along a travel journal and written in it. I've just gotten back from spending the better part of a week in Chicago with Jeanine, and despite the fact that it would have been easier to bring along my laptop and just blog as I went, I stuck with tradition and brought along a travel journal instead, taking advantage of the occasional downtime to record my thoughts and impressions. Now, in the interest of making more work for myself, I'm transferring it to my blog:

2/15/10
This is the first time in roughly four and a half years that I've written in a travel journal, the last time being on the occasion of the irr.app.(ext.) shows in Seattle and Portland in September, 2005.

I'm not currently traveling, but rather sitting in my chair at home, listening to Flanders & Swann while attempting, for the umpteenth time, to download some old releases by The Stalin.

Tomorrow I'll be traveling. Jeanine and I, on separate flights (thanks to me booking my flight months after she booked hers), are both heading for the Twist & Shout balloon convention in Chicago. I'm getting up at 4am for a flight that leaves at 6:30. Jeanine's flight leaves at 6.

2/16/10 5:40am
The San Jose airport seems to be in a constant state of flux. Every time I find myself there, it is as if I'm visiting it for the first time. New fees are constantly being added as well. Passengers are now charged $20 to check bags. I tried to change flights so Jeanine and I could travel together, but was told it would be an extra $50 to do so. So much for customer service.

Now, there seems to be some confusion about the gate number, so I'm moving. So far, I've heard exit alarms go off on at least 3 occasions, and been given the wrong gate number once. I am filled with confidence.

I got up a little before 4 this morning, and Jeanine arrived to get me at 4:15. It was gloriously foggy on the drive to the airport. Now, it's getting close to 6. Jeanine has already boarded and I'm waiting for my own flight.

Some time later...

We walked across the tarmac, old school style, to board the plane. It was foggy and dark, with haloed points of light glittering around us.

On the plane, I discovered that my row was the only one with empty seats. Two of them! I quickly moved from my assigned seat to the window seat, and somebody else just as quickly moved from a nearby middle seat to the now vacant aisle seat. Nature abhores a vacuum, and passengers abhore being stuck between other passengers.

There is some sort of sports team aboard, or perhaps teen fashion has narrowed in scope to the point where they all dress exactly alike. Or maybe the pod people are starting to take over and are still figuring out how to effectively assimilate.

The orange splash of sunlight was beautiful, and I loved watching the light and fog interact as the plane started to swing to the northeast.

1pm Minneapolis

The pedestrian walkway, like a huge, angular caterpillar, has rolled forward, attached its artificial lips to the doorway of the plane, and firmly sucked out all of the passengers, pooping us out into the terminal.

I'm waiting for my connecting flight to Chicago. The ground here is sleeping under a dirty white blanket. I can feel the outside chill from my seat in the waiting area.

2/19/10

There was plenty of time to write on the plane, but this is the first time I've had the time and energy to write since arriving in Chicago

Actually, we're in Oak Brook, a suburb of Chicago, at the Marriott Hotel, where the 2010 Twist & Shout convention is being held. Our room is on the fifth floor, and there is a nice view the snow-covered golf course adjacent to the hotel, and also a nice view of the sunset. I watched the orange disc of the sun wink out beyond the horizon last night, painting the sky above as it vanished. It's strange to not be surrounded by hills, like we are at home. Today, I spent a little time walking around on the golf course while Jeanine was in a class, and discovered that the majority of what we thought were human footprints in the snow are actually goose footprints. Off in the distance, the silhouettes of geese could be seen, and the incongruous sound of their doleful honking filled the chilly air. I guess I'd be doleful too if I was standing barefooted in the snow. I tried to get closer, but my presence inspired a mass goose exodus to the other side of the course.


Inside, Jeanine has introduced me to more people than I can remember. Everybody is really friendly, and most of the attendees are very creative, funny, and/or bizarre in some way. There are balloon sculptures everywhere, including an old-fashioned car being driven by gangsters through the lobby, and a 46 foot Spinosaurus in one of the conference rooms. We've been spending most of our time in the so-called Jam Room, where boxes and boxes of balloons have been set out by the balloon manufacturers sponsoring the event. Jeanine knows just about everybody, and is a bit of a celebrity in this world. I, being a rank amateur, have been fiddling around, picking up techniques, and making giant, sloppy balloon invertebrates. I've made a few other things as well, drawing faces on creations abandoned by others.

Other highlights of the week so far include finding a pizza place where the pizza rivals Zachary's Pizza in Berkeley (my absolute favorite pizza place) and our train trip to downtown Chicago to visit the Art Institute.

To get to the train station, we got a ride in the hotel shuttle. Round trip train tickets were $8.00, and the temperature hovered around freezing. The train ride took about 50 minutes, and we passed through quiet, snow covered communities. I'm fascinated by the snow, and the subtle architectural differences between Chicago and the Bay Area. The most obvious difference is the wanton use of bricks. That would never fly in earthquake-ridden California.

The walk from the train station to the Art Institute was probably about a mile, and took us past the Sears Tower, plus countless "watch for falling ice" signs. Dirty piles of snow covered patches of cement around poles and against buildings, looking like giant, ghostly heaps of dung.

Upon arriving at the Art Institute, we discovered that admission is free in February, which saved us $18.00 each. We happily entered, and the first painting we found ourselves in front of was White Shell With Red, painted by Georgia O'keeffe during the year my mom was born. Staring at the hypnotizing spiral of the shell, I reflected that the most recent art print I can recall my mom acquiring was of an O'keeffe painting. Strange coincidence. Slightly later, Jeanine got a call from a woman named Durga, right before we passed an ancient statue of her namesake. Ha.

The Institute contains an overwhelming amount of artwork, including a great number of world famous paintings - such as the Monet haystacks, American Gothic, works by Van Gogh (the self-portrait is beautiful - prints don't do it justice), Renoir, Matisse, Magritte, etc. If I had to pick favorites, I'd have to say Georgia O'keeffe, Goya's etchings, Joan Miro, Dali, Francis Bacon, and other individual pieces painted by artists previously unknown to me (paintings by George Grosz and Margherita Manzelli spring to mind). Also on display is the Song Of The Lark (1884) by Jules-Adolphe Breton, a print of which graced a wall at home when I was young.

On the way back, we stopped to get some sandwiches and sculpt a strange little animal out of toothpicks, apple core, onion, and a pepper. Afterward, it was back on the train. Just as the train was leaving the station, it dawned on me that we'd gotten on an express train, which would bypass our stop. We got off at the next opportunity, and waited for the right train.

Once we got to our stop, we decided to walk the 3 or so miles back to the hotel. It was nice, and there were some impressive icicles outside the library. Near the hotel though, the unshoveled sidewalk made walking more difficult. No harm done though.

Now, it's Friday afternoon and sunny. I'm in the hotel room while Jeanine is in a class. I didn't bring my laptop along, but have been keeping up with e-mail through Jeanine's computer. This is out of step with my usual habit of being incommunicado while on vacation. In some ways, I like being cut off from the internet better, but it's nice to be able to e-mail Willow.

I think I'll wander back down to the Jam Room now.

2/20, 2:25pm

I'm definitely getting spoiled this week, getting to spend all of this time with Jeanine, not to mention sleeping on an actual bed. My bed at home is a futon, and the bed at work is a bunk bed with institution-grade mattresses.

This morning we saw a Coyote (or perhaps a mangy, emaciated dog - it was hard to tell at a distance) wandering across the snow covered golf course, perhaps looking for geese. I took some pictures from our fifth floor window.

Last night, we were treated to some balloon-related skits and magic acts. Some of them were really impressive, especially the balloon dance piece put together by a guy named Jack. He had created four life-sized balloon people, and tied them to a series of plastic poles, which ran horizontal to the stage so that the balloon people were standing upright in a line, connected at strategic points to the poles. Jack was strapped to the center position, and as he danced to music, the balloon people danced with him. It was very effective, despite the fact that the two balloon people stage left literally lost their heads. The balloon magic of Willie Monroe was another standout.

After the stage show, everybody wandered over to view the contest entries. There were three categories, small, medium, and large, the largest of which was the aforementioned Spinosaurus. In amongst the inflated entries were a number of uninflated balloon art pieces, some of which appeared to have been lacquered. The most impressive of these was the balloon pointilism copy of a Seurat painting. The pointilism effect was achieved using thousands of rolled balloons.

I've made a few more inconsequential things in the Jam Room too, including a large lobster hat. Still making large, ungainly invertebrates.

Now, I'm taking a quick break while Jeanine is taking a class.

2/21, at 2:21pm

I'm sitting at O'hare, covered in garlic powder from the pretzel I just ate, and no doubt reeking of garlic. I can see luggage carts crossing the tarmac outside, looking like lines of ants in the distance. Beyond the runways, the world becomes an indistinct, gray haze. Snow is in the forecast, but not until after my 4:10pm flight is scheduled to leave.

Jeanine left a half hour ago, but she has to change planes in Atlanta, so she'll actually arrive in San Jose a half hour later than me.

Last night was the gala banquet, which included announcements of contest winners, balloon clothing, and balloons flying everywhere. The vegetarian option was some sort of lasagna-quiche hybrid, wrapped in spinach pasta. It was very good. Bob Rumba got up and did some ventriloquism, using members of the audience as ventriloquist dummies as he told the story of Goldilocks. Very clever. He also did a hilarious bit with a small pink rabbit puppet (named "Pinky", if I remember right).

Afterward, we went back to the Jam Room (where else?) and played until around 3am. I've mastered the flat weave now, and used this new skill to create some sort of Precambrian invertebrate, which I later left on a decorative table near the elevators on the fifth floor.

We didn't get to sleep until well after 4am, and I'm now feeling like I could nap.

This morning, drawn to the window by distant honking, I watched a pair of geese slowly cross the snowy golf course. They stopped dejectedly next to an iced-over pond, as if confused by the solid water. When I looked again a few minutes later, they had vanished, perhaps to fly south like proper birds.

After saying our goodbyes, we shuttled to the airport around noon. Apparently, Illinois shuttle drivers prefer to lurk anonymously in their unmarked vehicles rather than announce that they are there to pick you up. Due to this mystifying behavior, we all waited in front of the hotel for an extra 20 minutes. We still managed to get to the airport with time to spare though, despite the lengthy security line.

I went and picked up my mom's ashes today, hugging to my chest the velvet bag holding the container as I walked back to my van. I even seat belted it in place as I drove home. Intellectually, I know that the ashes are just that. Ashes. This is the way I forced myself to view her body as well. This is not the woman who raised and loved me. This is not the mother I loved. This is just what she left behind, like a husk left as a reminder of a sudden, lonely metamorphosis.

What else can you do, how else can you think and feel, when you see your mom lying dead on the floor? And how else can you view a neatly packaged container of ashes?

Still, it was a strangely profound moment for me, hugging those ashes. After the maudlin confines of the waiting room at the Neptune Society, walking with her remains back to the van felt like taking her home one last time. Or not quite a last time, because eventually her ashes will be scattered out to sea, where she will intermingle with countless others, including my friend Sea Turtle, who died in 2008, and Dr. Seuss, who died in 1991. Also, since all oceans are connected, she'll be out there with Gandhi, and countless others. Sure, they're just ashes, but I'm comforted by the fact that all of those ashes are returning to the womb of the world and mixing together. Who knows where they will end up?

On the other side of me, generationally speaking, is Willow. I'm proud of her for the way she handled the news. Sure, she quietly cried for a time, but then she asked to go to the park. At the park, she walked right past the playground and made a beeline for a grove of trees she refers to as "the rain forest". Once there, she requested to be put up in one of the trees, and after I obliged, she talked with my brother and I about life and death, even going to far as to note that being at the park was helping her. I'm especially happy that she so obviously takes comfort in trees.

What would we do without trees?

Currently listening to: Philip Glass "Orion", which made its way here from my mom's collection. Let the music be heard and the books be read!

Judith Elaine Arnold Scharpen
Born 9/27/38, died 1/26/10
Rest In Peace

A week ago, almost to the minute, I got a phone call informing me that my mother had died. She died suddenly at home, surrounded by walls of books. Books have been a passion of hers for as far back as I can remember, and my brother, dad, and I have decided that a fitting tribute to her would be to donate the majority of her bookstore-sized collection back to the Cupertino Library, where she spent years working as a volunteer.

I'm still processing the fact that she is gone, and no doubt will be continuing to do so for quite some time.

I owe her my very existence, of course, and a lot of who I am today can also be credited to her. I will write more over the coming weeks, as things sink in and the process of wrestling with this new void in our lives unfolds. This is a time of sadness, but also of love and reflection.

I love you, mom. The world is not the same without you.

Working as a night host at a science camp is sort of like working as a security guard. Most of the time, it's a pretty uneventful job. I sometimes joke about feeling guilty for getting paid, because I have hours and hours to do pretty much what I want to do - read, write, stargaze, look for frogs, and generally just relax. Every once in awhile a kid will come into the camp office at night, usually brought there either by homesickness or actual sickness. Sometimes, though, I'll get a visitor who doesn't fit into either of these categories.

Take, for instance, the boy who came in last week. He pointed down at his socks, and asked, "What is this?". I looked down at his strangely patterned socks and replied, "uh, it's a sock." He kept pointing and asking the question, so I turned on a brighter light. What I had taken for a pattern was diarrhea, and it soon became obvious that his whole lower body was also covered in it. I reevaluated my earlier supposition, and told him, "it's poo." To this, he responded, "am I taking a shower now?". The answer, of course, was, "yes!".

I found two frogs while leading him over to the shower room. Nature works in mysterious ways.

Last night, a boy visited me a little before 2am. He looked sad and cold, so I asked him what was wrong. He replied in a shaky little voice, "I lost my sleeping bag". Long story short, it had fallen off his bunk and he couldn't find it in the dark. I think this is the first time a kid has actually lost a sleeping bag while supposedly sleeping in it. It does indeed boggle the mind. He was very grateful when I found it for him though.

Another job well done. Ha.

This has been a week of very satisfying thunderstorms, and similarly satisfying snuggling inside while listening to the rain on the roof and watching old Hitchcock films (or film, I should say, because we only watched Sabotage). Today, the rain has relented for the time being, and right now it is gray and chilly outside.

Earlier, a bit of wind caused the neighbor's wind chimes to sing and I found myself thinking, I should get some wind chimes like that. Then it occurred to me how stupid the thought was. The neighbor's wind chimes are a mere 6 or 7 feet away from my patio, and sound travels. I can listen to her wind chimes for free.

Consumer culture is insidious. It is important to maintain constant vigilance against senseless purchasing of unneeded items.

Currently listening to: Black Tape For A Blue Girl "As One Aflame Laid Bare By Desire"

Happy Martin Luther King Day! I'm sure that because of this holiday, at least a few lives will be saved by the mere fact that a lot of people don't have to drive to work. I base this on the fact that it has been raining all morning, and knowledge of how to safely drive in the rain is an elusive thing. The radio is already full of reports of collisions and other rain-related incidents. If it were a bucket, the traffic reports would be spilling over onto the floor and entangling my feet as I walk across the kitchen.

As I hovered on the border between sleep and wakefulness this morning, I judged by the light coming through the window that it must be around 7am. When I fully opened my eyes, the glowing red numbers on the clock told me that it was well after 10. The rain sounds like pebbles bouncing off the roof, and the radio is spitting public advisories about intense thunderstorms. I think it's the first time I've heard the Emergency Broadcast System in something other than test mode. In fact, it fooled the radio announcer too, who said it was a test, and then hurriedly backtracked after it was over. Ha! It's supposed to rain all week too, which makes me happy. Beyond the fact that rain is needed, I love this kind of weather. I love watching the trees dance and the sky boil over with black and grey. I love how the wind paper-maches the ground with a colorful hodgepodge of leaves and branches, and how the rain softens the edges of the world.

I just wish that people would slow down a bit. No need to hurry.

Under cloudy skies, Jeanine and I walked for over nine miles yesterday (she estimates 9.3 miles) along the San Tomas Aquino Creek, through a couple of suburban parks, and down neighborhood streets. The squirrels and crows were out in force, often seen dining on acorns together. At one house we passed, there was a cookie sheet full of bird seed (or something similar) set out for the local wildlife. At the end of the walk, which included picking up Jeanine's daughter at school, my feet hurt. I think I need some new shoes. A warm bath took all of the soreness away though.

This got me to thinking about the concept of a walkshed again - mapping out walking-distance destinations in the neighborhood. I'm in easy walking reach of just about everything I need in my neighborhood - park, library, post office, grocery store, convenience stores, restaurants, etc. On the other end of the spectrum are people who get in their giant SUVs to drive half a block. Why?

I'm looking forward to the rain that is supposed to start later today. The forecast calls for it to last for most of the week. Yes! Our watershed needs it.

Currently listening to: Kirile Loo "Lullabies For Husbands"

Last night was ushered in by howling wind and a spattering of rain. I had planned to spend the night at home reading, but a phone call from a coworker sent me out into the night. It seems that, for the first time ever, one of our four-day camp programs started on a Monday instead of a Tuesday. That means I get Thursday night off work this week, not Monday. It sure would have been nice to know that in advance. That's what I get for never going to the meetings. Lest I sound like a slacker, I'm not required to go to the meetings - it's just that I often find myself out of the loop because of this.

I got to work and settled in for the night. I read. I listened to the wind blow things across camp. Not much different from being home, really.

Speaking of work, I threw my hat into the substitute teacher ring today. I'm not sure how often I can expect to be called, but my name is on the list, for one district at least. We'll see how it goes. I'm continuing to trim the fat from my morbidly obese music collection as well, selling a few items on ebay. I'm occasionally shocked at what people are willing to pay for certain items. I'm still trying to recover financially from the holiday season though, so I'm glad some people can't see the bottoms of their wallets.

Spendthrift playtime is over for the time being. Time to be thrifty and watch what I spend.

It seems like I looked behind me while I was walking through the week, and before I could face forward again, I tripped over Friday and fell into the weekend. The week was that fast. It might have had something to do with the fact that I didn't really start my work week until Tuesday night. Only working three night shifts (during which I sleep about half the time) tends to make the week disappear in a blink.

The week was interesting because I worked at our other site, nestled in the hills above Cupertino. The job is the same, but a lot of the little details aren't, so I actually had to think about what I was doing a few times. Ha. The only real difference though, was the fact that I slept on a floor mat in the dining hall instead of a bunk in the camp office, and I had to go around and knock on cabin doors to wake kids up rather than using my I-tunes and large speakers to get the job done.

Like I said though, it seemed to be over before it started. The next two weeks are the same, with no camp on Monday. They're at our main site though, so it's back to the familiar routine.

The new year is a few days old now. So far, I like it. I meet this year happy yet impoverished. I'm down to counting pennies already this month, but I've got a few more cds up on Ebay, and plan to get on some substitute lists in some of the local school districts so I can start doing a little daytime work. Of course, due to the night job, I won't be able to work before around 9am, so that limits me somewhat. No matter, I've had a number of teachers already tell me they like taking afternoons off sometimes. Ha ha.

The last couple of days, I've spent some quality time with Jeanine. We've been on a couple of walks, stumbled across yet another dvd rental place going out of business ($3 dvds!), ambled through a bookstore, and generally had a nice time together. Today, I'm home listening to music and doing little tasks around the apartment. I don't go back to work until Tuesday night, and it's at our second site, where I've never worked the night shift. As a matter of fact, I don't think I've been there since Alex was at camp in the fifth grade. He's in the seventh grade now. The way I look at it though, it's good to start the new year with a change in routine. Keeps me on my toes.

Currently listening to: Arvo Part/Philip Glass/Vladimir Martynov "Silencio"

I think I am now sufficiently recharged enough to resume forward motion. Sometimes when I have time off, I really take time off from everything. This leaves me with a vague feeling of guilt which eventually sets in motion a time of somewhat frenzied activity during which I get a lot accomplished. It is strange though, that the desire to hurriedly get lots of things done usually hits late in the evening when I can't immediately get started on anything. Sometimes by morning the desire has once again vanished. Right now, I'm using this little burst of energy to blog. Who knows what I'll feel like in the morning. I did just make a list of things I need to do though, and the list will be waiting for me at breakfast time. Lists are good insurance against backsliding. Ha.

Part of what has me energized is anticipating working another party with Jeanine tomorrow. I'll help with some of the more simple balloon creations, and with anything else that within my skill level that needs doing. It makes me want to further research getting some sort of insurance in place so I can officially do reptile parties. Sure, I've done them in the past, but it has always been rather informal and word of mouth. Stepping up the number of parties I do would definitely help out with finances around here.

Speaking of money, I've also recently sold my first item on Ebay. I got $122 for a cd, which is nice, especially considering it was something I had two copies of. I've got another pile of cds I'm going to list soon. I'm not sure if I have too many more that will fetch quite as much (at least not anything that I'm currently willing to part with) but I should be able to pull in some decent money.

Willow is asleep in the bed next to me at the moment. I've been letting her stay up late recently, but then again she's still on vacation for a few more days, so why not? I've been staying up late too, but I have a number of books that need reading, and for some reason I never seem to really settle down to read until well after dark.

Looking at the clock, I notice that the eve of the new year is upon us. Stay safe out there tonight.

Currently listening to: Popol Vuh "Tantric Songs"

It is cloudy outside, with a promise of rain. Willow and I are inside, and it looks like a toy store exploded in here right now. I find myself looking forward to the time when she wants presents that aren't big and plastic, and more importantly, don't utter inane catchphrases at the press of a button. Sure, I could just not buy her this type of thing, but right now these presents make her happy, which in turn makes me happy.

This was a good holiday season. For various reasons, everybody is (or seems) happier this year. I know I am. I hope you are too.

This year also marks the first Christmas morning in around a decade that didn't involve me getting up at the proverbial crack of dawn to watch the annual wrapping paper tornado sweep through the apartment. Willow was at her place for Christmas Eve this year, so I slept in and picked her up at noon on Christmas day. She made short work of the presents here, and we followed this up with visits to Jeanine's place and my mom's house.

Now, I feel like I can properly turn my attention toward the upcoming year. I tend to not think past the holidays until the holidays are past. Strange, I know, but the holidays usually become a state of mind that excludes non-holiday thinking.

First though, there will be some reflecting on the year past.

Currently listening to: Kiila "Heartcore"

The Winter Solstice has come and gone, and the light will now return in small increments as we creep toward the Summer Solstice. Today it is sunny, and the wind is wrestling with the trees, causing leafy protests.

Yesterday morning, I woke up at 5am so I could go get Jeanine and be on top of a hill at sunrise. We chose Linda Vista Park because of a convenient hill I remembered climbing during childhood. It was steep and muddy, making for interesting climbing in the dark, but we made it up to the top and looked eastward together as the city lights blinked out and the sky brightened. There was a layer of clouds above the East Bay hills, and a soft wash of fog below them, making them appear isolated. The sun itself was mostly invisible behind clouds, but we could still trace its progress as it rose. Birds called from the bushes as we stood there, and the constant hum of the city was more noticeable than usual - maybe because we were so tuned in to the sounds at the moment.

I'm not sure how long we stood there. Sometimes it doesn't matter. Once we descended, Jeanine danced in puddles to clean her shoes, and we ended the morning in a coffee shop. It would be fun to start every day like that, although there is no way I could get up that early regularly. For example, today I woke up a whole six hours later.

Christmas is around the corner. For the most part, I've managed to avoid holiday crowds. I'm now off work until the 5th, so I've got a couple of weeks during which I can do whatever I want. That's a nice feeling. I'm also done with all of my gift buying, unless of course last minute inspiration strikes (as it sometimes does).

Speaking of Christmas, Willow's class had their Christmas concert at school a couple of Fridays ago. It went well, despite the fact that somebody pulled the fire alarm in the middle of it. A couple of days after that, Willow got to sing to even more people thanks to the fact that her uncle works at a radio station. We visited him while he was on the air, and Willow sang "C is for Candy Cane" live in the studio. She was excited to know that anybody in the world (or at least those with radios and/or computers) could have heard her. Right afterward, I got a call from her brother Nathan. He told me that Sophie had slammed his finger in the car door and broken it. Poor Nathan. Why is it that broken bones always seem to happen during the holidays? We talked for a bit, then I handed the phone to Willow. To her enormous credit, she actually asked about his finger before telling him about how she had just gotten to sing on the radio. That's pretty unusual for a six year old, I think. Good for her!

This past weekend, I went to a memorial for an old friend who passed away a few years ago. Truth be told, he was more of an acquaintance than a friend, and I hadn't seen him in nearly two decades, but some of my old friends were going to be there. It was sort of my version of a high school reunion, but instead of a bunch of high school classmates who I didn't really know, it was a bunch of people from the eighties heavy metal crowd. It was kind of surreal, standing on a rocky outcrop (Tank Hill) in the middle of San Francisco, with city lights glinting below us while Venom blasted from a small boombox. It could have been the eighties all over again, except that we were all in our forties, everybody had digital cameras and cellphones, the word "Facebook" constantly came up in conversation, and the boombox had an I-pod dock. It will probably prove to be the only time that I'm likely to hear heartfelt remembrance interrupted by Venom's "Buried Alive" (the song has a quiet beginning, mostly comprised of the scraping of shovels and the falling of dirt, before swelling into its full abrasive glory). Better yet, everybody heartily approved of the strange sonic juxtaposition. This was a celebration of life rather than a mourning of death. It felt good to be a part of it.

The park was so impressive that I took Jeanine up there the next night, in between a couple of parties she was doing balloons and face-painting for. My role at the parties (especially the second one) was primarily to get beaten about the head by kids with balloon weapons. Nothing makes kids happier than balloon mayhem.

Looking out the window during the second party, we saw a small convoy of motorcycles growl by. They were brilliantly festooned with Christmas lights. Very nice.

We're going through a cold snap right now, or at least as much of a cold snap as this part of California ever gets. This morning, the pool at work was covered in a centimeter thick layer of ice, inspiring me to spend a small bit of time bouncing small objects off its surface. My fingers were so cold afterward that they hurt, but it was so worth it.

I'm going through another phase of re-listening to old cds in preparation for selling them, and even (finally) put one of them up on eBay to sell. It's sort of an experiment, really, just to see how well it does there. This was more or less motivated by the fact that having to start paying off my student loans has fired upon my budget and caused it to sink before the lifeboats could be deployed. Ha. Of course, I'm loading choice songs onto the computer, so all is not lost. Besides, somebody somewhere will see these cds on a shelf or on eBay and get happy. Sure, it's a consumer sort of happiness, but I support that when it's based on a love of music.

I've been getting a bit more creative in the kitchen lately too, making soup and hummus, and trying my hand at making Tibetan Bod-jha (or Poecha), a tea with butter, milk, and salt added. So far, I've failed at this last task, mainly due to buying the wrong kind of tea. Fortunately, Jeanine and I found a tea place in our wanderings this weekend, so I have a place to go to find the right kind. That said, this particular store is where I bought the wrong kind, but now I have a better idea of what the right kind is. There are all sorts of other interesting teas there too. I had no idea people had made the drinking of tea into a sort of wine-like snobbery. I saw tea in there that was older than I am. Who knew?

Another birthday has come and gone, and I am now 42. Looking back at my blog posts from a year ago, I see that I started my last birthday cleaning vomit. This year, coincidentally enough, there was vomit to clean as well. Fortunately, the job fell to someone else. The food reversal occurred after I was officially off duty. Ha.

Sunrise and sunset were beautifully orange, and Jeanine came over with goodies and movies. We went out to dinner, had popcorn, ice cream, and cake, and watched a double feature of Die Monster Die and Kill Baby Kill. Based on the titles alone, it just seemed like the thing to do. Strangely enough, there are a number of plot similarities in the films as well - reluctant drivers (of the "I'm not driving you there" variety), unhelpful/unfriendly villagers, and shunned houses (the Witley manor and the Villa Graps, respectively).

I read Cormac McCarthy’s The Road over the Summer, or maybe sometime during the Spring (for some reason, I often forget when things happen, sometimes not even being able to pin down certain events to specific years). I got the book for free, thanks to a railroad engineer from Indiana who liked the list of authors I’d posted on my Myspace site (Algernon Blackwood, in particular). We did a few trades, me sending him cdrs (mostly literature related recordings), and he sending me some original art. Not really a fair trade, since I got something unique (and quite good too), but what’s done is done. In one of his letters, he mentioned The Road, and in return I said it sounded intriguing. Before long, he’d sent me an extra copy he’d had on hand. Very nice of him! It has been awhile since we’ve communicated. I’d like to find out if he has seen the just-released film version.

Today I went with Jeanine to see the film, and I must say the film does the book justice. Sure, it adds a little, perhaps unnecessary, backstory to the mix, but I found that I didn’t mind. The music, by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis, (I recently missed seeing Ellis’ band, The Dirty Three, play. Damn.) is haunting enough that I’m going to have to shell out some funds for the soundtrack. The visuals are washed out and gritty, smothering the viewer in unremitting grayness – in other words, perfect!

At the heart of it, it’s a heartwarming father/son story, stripped of all the societal fluff and psychological fat layered on by human society. The story leaves us with nothing but the animal need to survive, the need to carry on down the road, but at the same time, it’s a very human story. It’s the story of a father doing everything he can to prepare his son for life on his own. This is what good parents do anyway, but most of us don’t do it with the sense of urgency and desperation felt by the characters in the story. We’re not living in a dead world. We’re not picking though the ash covered remains of civilization, scrabbling for survival in an unchanging twilight brought on by some off stage cataclysm.

As I watched the film, I found myself wondering (and not for the first time) why I find depictions of the total collapse of human society so compelling. It’s partially due to the same aesthetic sense that allows me to enjoy abandoned, leaning barns and rusty railroad tracks smothered in returning plant life. In this case though, there is no returning plant life. All of the plants are dead, and the characters are in constant danger from toppling trees. I think also that this kind of scenario signals an abrupt end to all complacency, and to all of the needless complexities we’ve cocooned ourselves with. Ironically though, if it did happen, it wouldn’t signal the beginning of truly living, but one of mere survival (a distinction made by one of the characters in the story, and one I’ve often seen elsewhere). I say “ironically” because I don’t think many people in our present-day society truly live. Sure, we all more-or-less function, but we’re often so weighted down by fluff and nonsense that we can’t break out of our little routines and habits long enough to actually reflect on our individual situations. Instead, we plug in video games, watch lots of bad tv, check our various e-mail accounts and go shopping online (guilty!), commute, clock in, clock out, watch the clock, listen to the clock as it wakes us up every morning at the same time, worry about what happens if we don’t hear the clock, worry about what happens if a deadline is missed, worry about getting older, worry about not getting older, worry about worrying too much… the list goes on and on down the road. We’re too trapped in the electronic trenches we’ve dug for ourselves to really see the fields beyond the field, or so it seems sometimes. Of course, in this scenario, the fields are all brittle brown and covered in layers of ash and dust, and beyond it there is just the road, stretching south like the path that Little Red Riding Hood must follow to grandma’s house. Except grandma is probably a corpse in a cooking pot, because the wolves are all dead, replaced by roving bands of cannibals who aren’t just lurking in the woods. They’re patrolling the road. So much for being safe if you don’t stray from the path. This isn’t your parents’ fairy tale.

Of course, I realize that the end of civilization would mean more than just a break in our routines. I don’t even think it would inspire the survivors to shine in any particular way. More likely, as the story depicts, most people would simply look for the easiest way out – suicide and cannibalism. Maybe that’s why this story is so touching – because this one father fights against this kind of defeatism. He does absolutely everything he can to see that his son survives. I find that moving and inspiring. It makes me want to be more selfless.

So, yeah. Maybe it is kind of a holiday movie after all. Be of good cheer. Help each other out. Don’t eat people. Eating people is wrong.

Fifty dollars later, and I have a new modem. I also have a slight cold, no doubt picked up at the coffee shop when my modemlessness dictated I find free wireless to check my e-mail. Ha.

What else? I think the water pipes in my apartment complex are rusty. The bath water turned an interesting shade of orange during Willow's bath a couple of days ago. It's happened before, but has never approached the hue on display this particular time. Since then, there has been no orange. The modem died the same way - in fits and starts, sometimes working properly and sometimes not.

I'm currently reading a novel I found in a box by the curb on Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley. There were other books there as well, accompanied by a hand-lettered "free" sign, but I chose one by Andrew Vachss because I once read and enjoyed another book by him. There's a big appeal to finding things on the street and using them. Maybe more people should leave their unwanted items in boxes on the street. So many things gather dust in attics, garages, and storage spaces. For every one of these dust covered items, there is a user somewhere. People just hesitate to give things away for free. Why? Because we're taught to milk everything for money, and that money equals success. Too bad.

I’m still awaiting my end-of-the-month paycheck so I can go buy a new modem. My money cushion has evaporated over the last few months. Time to readjust my budgeting, I guess. It’s also time to start doing some substitute teaching work. I’m in no way distressed about my financial situation – instead, I feel energized at times like this because it forces me to get creative (sadly, sometimes I need to be forced).

I’m still modem-less, so once again I’m writing this as a Word document, to be posted later at a public venue with free wireless. This is almost starting to be a routine. It’s interesting to note that I feel more inspired to write when I can’t immediately post it. This also forces me to spend a bit more time than usual revising my writing. Why is that? Why do I need to be forced to write, or forced to spend more time editing my work? I think it’s because, when given the opportunity, I have a tendency to spend too much time compulsively surfing the internet. Maybe this is the first step towards breaking, or at least taming, that habit.

I just noticed that it’s raining. It looks like the forecasters were wrong again. The forecast called for a chance of rain tonight, but here it is, not even 10:30 in the morning, and the ground is wet. I just had to bring Willow’s bike in and dry it off. The sliding glass door is open to let in the smell of the rain. Very nice.

Fast forward. I'm now sitting inside Peet's Coffee, and it's still raining outside. It's just as crowded as it was yesterday, and the pumpkin spice latte is a bit too sweet. Otherwise, not bad. The one benefit of being here is that if affords me the opportunity to be a people watcher. Why is it though that I don't often have much good to report on that front? Take for instance the woman who scolds her toddler for flinging his cereal to the floor, but does nothing to clean up the mess. Who should be being scolded here? Then there's the dad who carries his baby in one of those plastic baby buckets. Great Mystery forbid that he actually have any physical contact with his offspring! Not all is bad, of course. It's just that, for some reason, it's more fun to write about our failings and inconsistencies (and no doubt more fun to read, as well) than it is to write about all of the good cheer. There is good cheer as well, of course. People are being pretty patient, even though the wait for caffeine is a long one.

Black Friday indeed! I just watched a video online of people actually getting into fist fights as they rushed into some big box store to buy electronics or something. Lots of tripping and falling too.

Happy Holidays.

Sometimes you have to step away from something to really get a good look at it. Take for instance a large painting, or sculpture. If you’re right up against it, it’s just form and color. From across the room, its true nature is revealed to the beholder.

Take the internet. My modem is broken right now. At least I think it’s the modem. I replaced the cable, and that didn’t change anything. The computer is working fine, but I can’t get online at home. It’s the end of the month, and with the newly added financial burden of having to start paying back my student loans, and the necessity of having to buy new tires, I can’t very well go out and buy a new modem until my next direct deposit magically appears in my bank account.

So, today I stepped back across the room and viewed my internet use from afar. Despite my attitude about the unfortunate omnipresence of electronic time wasters in modern day society, I waste a lot of time on the internet. Sometimes I’m just surfing online record stores, sometimes I’m reading blogs, or downloading music from mp3 blogs, sometimes I’m looking at pictures on Flickr, or checking e-mail, or farting around on Facebook… the list goes on.

I don’t count my own blogging as a waste of time. That’s me putting something out there for others to see (or me to access later). I’m currently typing this as a Word document, to be uploaded the next time I’m online. Perhaps I’ll swing by work tomorrow, or find myself at a coffee shop with free wireless internet.

For the time being though, it’s nice to step back and take a break. This is the lemonade I make from the lemon of my malfunctioning modem. The temporary closing of my little window to the electronically filtered internet world gives me something to think about too. I can turn my attention inward for a bit. I can ponder my habits for awhile.

Right now I’m happy. I have been seeing Jeanine for nearly three months now, and we’re having fun together. We took our girls up to Hidden Villa today, and wandered to our hearts’ content. Willow, for the first time, ended up being the one to initiate a hike beyond the farm and up over one of the hills. I guess the trick is to let it be her idea. If I had suggested it, the idea would have been met with stubborn resistance. Heels would have been dug in. Trails would have been left untrod. In fact, my main complaint with my lack of internet right now is the temporary halting of the back and forth e-mail banter that we share.

I’m off work this week, so Willow is staying over at my house tonight. Currently, she’s asleep next to me. I’m enjoying the change in routine.

Thanksgiving is tomorrow, and I have no plans with anybody. Due to the necessity of juggling schedules, I’ll be taking part in a modest feast on Saturday instead. I’ve never really seen the wisdom behind eating until the buttons pop off my shirt. I do see the wisdom in being thankful though. I sometimes tend to take things (and sometimes, it pains me to say, people) for granted, so it does me good to stop every so often and think about gratitude and thankfulness. I am fortunate in many ways –for the people (new and old) who are in my life, for my health, for… well, I won’t bore you with a list, but I am thinking about it.

I’ll leave it at that for now.

Wandering around camp at night, I was surprised by a loud animal cry from somewhere in the trees on the other side of the pool. It sounded sort of like something being stepped on, kind of plaintive and breathless, as if it were trying to say, "won't you please remove your foot from my sternum?". I crept closer, trying to imagine what could be making it. Then, the sound was answered by a more recognizable one - the call of a male Great Horned Owl. The two voices seemed to be in conversation, although in my mind I interpreted the Great Horned Owl to be trying to get the other voice to shut up.

A quick search on this site proved me wrong. The first voice was a female Great Horned Owl. I had no idea they sounded like that.

Listen here.

I've been trying to make it through the month with only one visit to the grocery store, but so far the fact that dairy products have expiration dates has mandated that I have to go at least twice a month, or risk having to eat the milk rather than drink it. I went today for that reason, plus a few other necessities, and to get some more ingredients to make hummus. Once there, I was tackled by the sample-table person and forced to buy some double gloucester. Okay, maybe not tackled, but double gloucester can be powerfully persuasive all on its own. Especially if it has chives in it.

Speaking of nourishment, the AEOE (Association for Environmental and Outdoor Education) northern conference was this weekend. In this case, nourishment for the spirit was provided. On the surface of it, the conference is an opportunity for outdoor educators to share ideas, but it runs a lot deeper than that. I always come away from the conferences re-inspired and reconnected with... well, with why I do this kind of work in the first place. This time out, I was happy to see my old friend (and environmental education mentor, if truth be told) Garth from Hidden Villa among the workshop presenters. His main contribution to my consciousness this weekend was the concept of a "sit spot", and idea he had gotten from author Jon Young. It's a pretty simple idea. Choose a convenient spot in some "natural" area, and visit it as often as possible, in all kinds of weather, and during all times of the day. Once there, sit. Observe. Reconnect. His sit spot anecdotes were amazing. I'm tempted to share them here, but I think I'll wait until I have some of my own. That got me thinking though. Maybe I should have two sit spots, with the second one in a suburban area - just to see the contrast. It might make for some funny posts here, at least.

This was on my mind as I slowly woke from my nap early this afternoon - in general, the whole idea of deeply observing the world around me. I was sleepily thinking of sound maps - about really noticing what I could hear nearby. Today, I could hear somebody thumping a plastic trash can across the street somewhere (that's what it sounded like, anyway) and the hum of the refrigerator. Strangely absent was the sound of dogs from the nearby dog park. Usually, that's pretty much the only sound that impacts upon my consciousness when I'm trying to sleep during the day. Now, I can hear them as I type. I can also hear the sound of city traffic, and of course, I can still hear the hum of the fridge. I can also hear a faint ringing in one of my ears. That one I could do without.

I think I know where my sit spot is going to be. We'll see.

The conference also gave me an opportunity to reconnect with other friends from out of the area. I taught a couple of workshops, and they were both well-received. A friend of mine won the Northern California environmental educator of the year award, something that was very well deserved. He had no idea he was going to be winning it, but somehow I did. I don't think anybody told me in advance, but I just couldn't imagine anybody more deserving of the honor. On Sunday, I picked up J9 on the way to the conference so we could go on an early morning bird walk (first time I've seen a crow dive bomb a raptor!). She stayed for the rest of the morning as well, which was really nice. We went to a workshop together (taught by a friend of mine from Yosemite Institute) and learned (appropriately enough, since it was at the end of the conference) some good closure activities to help enhance students' science camp experiences.

Suddenly, it's Tuesday, and all of the conference attendees are back at their own sites. We've got 6 different schools at camp this week, all private religious schools. I don't know quite what they're teaching in such schools these days, but one of the kids came into the Hub last night to report that he'd seen some large squirrels in the bathroom. Large Squirrels with ringed tails and masks. Sigh. The next kid knew what they were, thus renewing my faith in humanity. He plaintively asked if we had any bathrooms without Raccoons in them. I told him probably not, but when I went to check the bathroom, I discovered that the Raccoons had moved on.

I'm also waiting for the jury duty shoe to drop this week. I'm not sure if they're really going to want me, because I'd have to be there during a time when I'm normally asleep. That'll be me, the sleeping juror.

The wind is whipping in from the west, tossing little cotton balls of clouds through the moonlight, creating moonbows in a magical interaction of reflected light and airborne water droplets. The clouds are swirling and changing as they flee eastward. An elephant appeared for a moment, lifting its trunk in defiance as it drifted backward, pursued by three ever-changing disembodied heads.

It occurred to me as I stood there with my head thrown back, taking it all in - I'm getting paid to do this right now.

I love watching the trees on the uppermost slopes of the hills turn golden as they're bathed in the first light of the morning sun.

It's going to be quiet for another minute, and then I have to wake up 160 kids.

This morning, the phone in the camp office started ringing at 4:45. When I answered it there was nobody on the other end of the line. At that moment, somewhere outside in the darkness, coyotes began to howl.

That's when I knew what must have happened. Coyote crank call. Somewhere there was a coyote in a phone booth, nearly bursting with suppressed laughter.

They don't call them tricksters for nothing.

Now, at 5:45 AM, I can hear them howling again. I'm waiting for the phone to ring.

I'm listening to the wind toss the trees back and forth, and watching the orange light of evening slowly make its way across this particular corner of the world. Not that the world can have corners, it being spherical and all, but sometimes the words that fit aren't the most correct ones. Let's hear it for occasional incorrectness.

I'm taking the evening off work so J9 and I can go see Marissa Nadler and Alela Diane up in San Francisco. Looking forward to both the company and the music.

Autumn just seems to be the time when everything happens. Funny the difference a year makes.

This is the kind of sight that inspires me. The sky is a vast, ever changing canvas of light and moisture, and the interplay of the two can be awe inspiring. On days of bland blueness I find myself... maybe "depressed" is too strong a word, but at the very least, unmotivated. There's no expectant energy there when the sky is blue. On the other hand, when dark clouds come roiling in over the hills, it seems that anything is possible. It doesn't have to be clouds either. I can be a bit of perfectly placed fog, or a high, lonely contrail, or just a wisp - a promising little cowlick of vapor waiting for its big dark friends to join in the fun there at the invisible air-mass boundary.

Let it rain! Or at least let it look like it's going to rain!

Yesterday, Willow and I spent a couple of hours playing at Oak Meadow and Vasona Parks, which are pretty much the same park, except that you have to pay to drive into Vasona. It goes without saying that we always park at Oak Meadow, although I'll have to start paying to park there too when I renew my license (my present license has my old address, showing that I'm a park-approved Los Gatos resident).

But I digress. What I meant to write about is the incredible feeling of Autumn inspired nostalgia that hit me as we rode the small steam train, splashed in the creek, and wandered through the park(s). It had something to do with the falling leaves and the autumnal smell wafting through the air - a smell that transported me right back to a childhood spent in creeks and drainage ditches. It was just the right combination of plant smells, humidity, and mud. If I could figure it out, I could bottle childhood! It's funny how memories of scents are stored forever, with near perfect recall.

Mmmmm! Blustery, power-flickery, gusty, drippy, torrential RAIN! I love it when the moan of the wind and rain is punctuated by the staccato noise of items crashing to the ground outside.

The power at work went out at about 6:30 this morning, causing the generator to kick in. The power at home flickered on and off earlier, and just to the west of me, streetlights are out.

Currently listening to the sound of the rain, which meshes perfectly with Mountains "Choral" cd.

The wind is gusting up to 36 mph outside. I know this because they finally fixed the wind gauge/weather station affixed to the wall of the building I'm sitting inside. I also know this because I can hear things being blown about camp, and the wind is howling. There isn't a lot of rain yet. Hopefully that will come soon.

Also, hopefully nobody else will throw up tonight. Rain is good. Vomit is not.

My counterpart at our other site saw a Mountain Lion tonight. Some people have all the luck. All I saw was a pair of frogs. Still, frogs are cool too.

The sky is gray and still, with rain perhaps a few hours away. Tomorrow, it's supposed to storm on us, with much anticipated wind and rain finally giving the parched hillsides a chance to swell with moisture. I am more than looking forward to it - I'm fairly singing with anticipation.

This weekend, I went on another long hike up at Almaden Quicksilver park, visiting Hidalgo cemetery, an abandoned rotary furnace, and finding yet another old car in a ravine. The cemetery was perhaps the most interesting, despite the fact that all of the grave markers have succumbed to time and vanished. Wooden markers tend to do that, I guess. The white picket fence, also made of wood, that surrounds the cemetery, will no doubt also vanish in time. That will probably be replaced. It's interesting that nobody thought to do that with the original grave markers though. Did all of those families cease to exist?

I also found a squished tarantula, which made me sad. The poor little guy was struck down while in the process of looking for a mate, so that one death also cut short a whole line of descendants. I just hope that he wasn't killed on purpose. people need to deal with their fears in a more constructive fashion.

Before the hike, I watched Willow's soccer team wipe the field with their opponents. Willow is so fun to watch - she literally dances with excitement sometimes out there on the field. Sophie spent the whole game braiding my hair, which was funny. I'm not sure when she learned to braid. I feel like I'm missing out on her life these days, but on the bright side, it makes the time I do have with her (and her brothers) all the more precious.

Friday night, I went on a very nice date up to San Francisco to experience some music. I'm very happy about the way things are progressing on this front.

I also got a rare chance to lead a field class last week, which in some ways explains why I haven't updated this blog in a while. I've gotten used to having my days free, so when they're suddenly filled, I don't blog as much.

The week was great though. The kids were from four different private schools - all catholic schools, I think. This means that, for the most part, they were well behaved. The cabin leader who hiked with me had been up the week before, so he was more experienced than some, which is always good.

This was the first time I'd led a whole field class for a week since I started working nights a couple of years ago, so of course it was also the first time I've led a field class as a newly credentialed teacher. I did consider creating lesson plans for everything, but ended up not doing it in the end. I've taught all of these lessons many times before, so I just went with what I've always done, with a few little tweaks and variations thrown in. I perhaps spent a little more time focusing on the journal writing aspect of things, and I paid a little more attention to the skill levels of individual students than I used to. They were all pretty evenly matched though, with maybe one or two exceptions. Still, I felt there was a freshness to the week because it's no longer part of my weekly routine. The classroom teachers even commented on my obvious excitement. Of course, we had to visit the Rattlesnake family up in the chaparral. I recently read an article on Rattlesnake parental care brought to my attention by one of my Flickr friends. Apparently the babies usually stay with the mom until the first shed. Of course, the babies I showed my field class are still with their mom, even though they've already shed. I took one of the shed skins and laminated it with a photo of the snakes, making some pretty cool prize bookmarks to give away during the end-of-the-week review on Friday. We also found a ton of small Bullfrogs (as well as a couple of toads) up at Lake Ranch Reservoir. The kids were extremely excited by this. Just imagine 19 sixth graders all screaming and laughing as frogs go leaping everywhere. The cool thing was that they were under rocks near the shore, so we could easily catch them. Some rocks had nearly a dozen frogs hiding underneath. Talk about hands-on outdoor education! It was the first time that a lot of the kids had ever gotten to do something like that. I think that they'll remember it fondly. They didn't even complain about the nearly 5 mile round trip it took to get to where the frogs were.

That said, one of my favorite moments of the whole week was when we came upon a Youth Science Institute group on the trail, and I quickly realized that it was Sophie's class. I hadn't even realized that she had a field trip on that day. The odds against me running into her on the trail are pretty big. First, there are a lot of trails, and second, I'm not usually hiking them these days. We were very happy to see each other.

This week, I'm back in the camp office at night, just in time for the torrential rains to hit.

Things have cooled off a bit, and there's a nice breeze. This makes it much more bearable when I'm sitting out on a sunny field watching Willow play soccer. It also prevents Willow from turning an alarming shade of pink from exerting herself in the heat.

Today, after soccer (damn, I feel like such a soccer dad all of a sudden - I'm still not a fan of organized sports, but the exercise and teamwork is good for Willow, so I'm a fan of that aspect of it at least) we went to the Children's Discovery Museum, a place which is singularly important in that Willow owes her very existence to it. It's where I met her mom, back when I was an employee there.

Nowadays, they still let me in for free, and it's nice to see those among my old coworkers who are still there. One such old coworker was leading a "make a play" workshop, during which participants got to alter an existing story ("The Three Little Pigs", in this case) and act it out. Willow played the brick seller. The three little pigs became two little dragons, and the big bad wolf became the big bad princess. Fun was had.

This coming week, I get a rare chance to be back in the field at work. I traded schedules with a coworker, so he (the appropriately named Bat) will work the nights, and I get to lead a field class. I've got to dig out all of my naturalist teaching supplies, but I'm looking forward to mixing things up a little.

The moon, ghost white
Leaks light through cracked clouds

I woke up this morning to clouds, and now I can hear the trees rustling as a slight breeze passes through. Tomorrow, the temperature has been forecast to stay below 70 degrees, but of course a week ago they were saying it was going to rain. Yesterday, the forecasters were predicting rain for the following Tuesday, but now they've changed their minds. I don't know why I even bother looking at the forecast.

My work week kicks into gear in a few hours. Before that, I'm going to have dinner with Willow. I predict that she's going to want frozen peas. Strange kid. Won't eat them if they're cooked.

A couple of weeks ago now, Willow and I were standing in the middle of Los Gatos Creek, dropping leaves into the flowing water and watching them drift away downstream. Sometimes they would get caught on rocks. Sometimes they would hit the rapids and go bobbing off into the distance. It occurred to me at the time that there was a ritualistic aspect to what we were doing. I began imagining things that I would like to let go, and picture the leaves as an embodiment of those intangible sections of psyche. There was a great peacefulness to the process, and a great relief.

Flowing water is somehow magical, but only if you are open to it.

The one thing that I would most like to let go of is the anger I feel towards my ex-wife. There were some lies told to me at the end of our relationship, and despite the fact that I know, and to a certain extent, understand, the reasons for the lies, I am still angry about it. I still feel that it is a profound betrayal of trust, and it has colored every interaction I've had with her since, and in a way invalidated every previous thing she has said to me. Once I find out that somebody is capable of lying to me, especially somebody that I have opened up to - somebody who at the time I felt love for - I feel that everything they say and have said is immediately suspect.

So I watch leaves float away in the cold creek water.

This soccer season, her boyfriend - the one she started dating before telling me that she was filing for divorce - is coming to the games. I finally saw him, and to tell you the truth, had no real feelings about it one way or the other. One of the reasons I'd been avoiding being in the same place as him for so long is that I thought it might bring up some pretty serious negative feelings. I'm happy that it didn't, because I'm really bad at hiding how I feel if strong feelings are involved. Sure, I'm not interested in interacting with him on any level, but it was nice to not want to go drown him in the creek.

Much better to watch the leaves float away.

After the games, during which Willow ended up being almost as pink from the heat and exertion as her team shirt, and Nate ended up not playing much because he didn't feel well, I decided to go on a solo hike up in Almaden Quicksilver Park. I used a different park entrance than usual, and picked a trail that in retrospect was a poor choice. It wound steadily uphill on the sunny side of the hills, heating the water in my water bottle to the extent that it tasted like warm tea. Still, I ended up in the area of the park known as English Camp, in which several ancient buildings are barely standing. It's interesting to become steeped in the history of the area like this - feeling the silence and solitude of forgotten people and the weathered remnants of their works. Last week, I wandered through an 150 year old cemetery in Saratoga, so this was the second time in less than a week that I found myself reflecting on what life used to be like. People lived and died in these hills, tunneling into the hillsides in search of mercury, and leaving their decaying buildings behind. There were even a couple of old cars among the trees downhill from where I was hiking. One looked as if the tree had begun its life as a sapling in the shadow of the car, slowly displacing it as the years passed.

I almost went back up there today, but ended up staying home and making hummus instead, adding more garlic than was reasonable. I'll try not to breathe on you for a week or two.

In the middle of our annual open house at work, I was leading a hike for about 50 kids (mostly elementary school kids who will be coming to camp later this year) and their parents, when a couple of the girls said they wanted to find some snakes. Not one to disappoint, I took a quick detour to a nearby rock pile where I'd been seeing Rattlesnakes over the summer. I found the cutest little cluster of baby Rattlers there, looking like they'd just been born. I think I even managed to convince the most cautious of the parents that it was a good thing. I then stood between the snakes and the kids, and let them approach to where they could peek over the rock and see the snakes. After about 7 or 8 kids got to see them, the snakes crawled off one by one, heading for the cover of one of the rocks. The rest of the people had to be content with the quick, slightly out of focus photo I took, just like those of you reading this will have to be.

Strange thing though - even though I was standing right there, I miscounted the snakes. If you look very carefully at the photo, you can see there are 4, not 3, as I originally thought. It was almost as if they were remembering being inside their mom, so tightly clustered together they were.

Always know how many snakes you're actually dealing with.

Definitely another snake geek moment.

I found a Wolf Spider last night, and as usual, started taking pictures of it. After a moment, I noticed that there was a rolled up Pillbug underneath one of its legs, making the spider look like it was on its way to soccer practice or something. It reminded me of the Far Side cartoon where all of the attendees show up for a lecture with ducks under their arms, except, of course, the one guy who forgets his. I imagine a room full of Wolf Spiders, all with Pillbugs, except for one hapless arachnid who shows up sans crustacean.

It's funny the way my mind works sometimes.

On another subject entirely, Willow became alarmed while we were talking about eyes. I was explaining how pupils work, about how they expand to let in more light, when she nervously asked, "what happens if my pupils get too big and my eyes explode?"

I sometimes wish that the world was still that mysterious for me.

The first night of the 2009/2010 science camp year is behind me now. The air was crisp enough to warrant an extra layer. The usual suspects were out in force - homesick kids and patrolling Raccoons. The Raccoon family was pretty cute, with the harried-looking mother urging her troupe of black-masked puffballs towards the apparent good eatin' to be found in the camp trash cans. I could have done without the anxious kid who woke me from my nap at 3:30 in the morning, but that kind of thing is, after all, what I'm paid to be available for. Sometimes I feel like a psychiatrist though. Maybe I should ask for a raise.

It's funny being back. I feel refreshed after my break from work, but I still remember the end of the last school year when I wasn't expecting to be back doing this for another year. Not that I mind. It's a great job. Still, I'm going to redouble my efforts to find classroom work. Actually, I feel like redoubling my efforts in every way right now. That's what Autumn does to me. I hope the feeling lasts.

Currently listening to Nurse With Wound "The Memory Surface"

The clouds crept over the horizon at some point while my attention was elsewhere. I awakened to discover that local people on Facebook were talking about thunder and lightning. I wish I'd been awake at 4am or whenever it was that it actually graced the sky.

It's all right though. When Willow and I were at the park a short time earlier, fat drops of rain started plopping down out of the dark gray sky, and soon we were doing some pretty serious frolicking, getting wetter and wetter by the moment as the other park goers rushed for their cars. Only the weather-hardened dog park crowd stuck around - even the ones whose dogs didn't like the rain.

Now, as the sky darkens, we're back inside watching BBC dinosaur documentaries. Life is good.

A year ago today I was moving into my current apartment. Nearly all of my possessions were in boxes, except of course for those things that I just lazily threw on top of the pile.

Today, I'm sitting here with Willow. She's just had her first soccer game of the season. Many of my possessions are in bags out on the patio. No, I'm not moving or anything like that. I've had to quarantine a number of items in order to make sure the head lice that one of the kids brought home from school don't make a comeback.

The day after tomorrow, I start the new school year as night host up at camp. The lumbering, bureaucratic beast that is the California Commission on Teacher Credentialing has finally managed to officially issue me my credential. I guess that means they found the fingerprints that they claimed not to have. For this school year, I plan to use my credential to get some work as a substitute teacher (while still keeping an eye open for something more long-term). Maybe I'll stumble across a permanent position this way.

Either way, I'll be doing something I like doing.

The coin-op laundry machines are working overtime today as I re-wash all the bedding in an attempt to eradicate every last trace of the head lice that one of the kids brought home from school. Homework, yes. Lice, no. I love insects, but I have to say that love doesn't extend to the ones that try to move into the forest of hair at the top of the mountain of me. These particular insects can take a damn hike into nowhere land, and I'm here to issue the maps.

Actually, lice are pretty cute. It's a shame about their eating habits though.

At least the Eucalyptus-based homeopathic anti-louse spray smells nice.

Willow is with me for the next 8 days, which is nice. After Labor Day, it's our in-service week at work. I'm looking forward to it, and in some ways I'm glad I'm still working nights. This won't stop me from continuing to try to land a job in a classroom, but I like my current plan to do some subbing first. I also have to figure out why the California Teaching Credential people don't have my fingerprints. They were sent nearly two years ago, and just now I'm finding out that they've either never received them or have managed to lose them. This bolsters my opinion that bureaucracy is a dirty word. I really don't want to pay to have them redone and re-sent. I'm too busy spending my money on head louse remedies. I like the idea of releasing trained spiders into hair to eat the lice, but I have the feeling that wouldn't go over well with the general public.

Summer is over, its end marked by the exodus of kids out of swimming pools and off of lawns into new classrooms, where they are no doubt fidgeting in the confinement of their chairs.

I'm in the middle of a couple of weeks off. I haven't found a teaching job, so I'll be going back to working nights when outdoor school starts up in mid-September. My plan, for the time-being, is to pick up some work as a substitute teacher while hanging onto my night position. This will give me more classroom experience and expose me to a larger number of teaching styles and classroom plans.

I haven't been writing here much, mostly because summer camp wipes me out, and also because I'm in the middle of a novel reading and movie watching streak. As usual though, with summer once again fading into an idealized memory, I feel the urge to renew my efforts to just get on with things. It's a good feeling, and I feel that I've had a well earned break for the last few months.

The weather turned cold and breezy last night, with clouds pouring in over the hills. This morning, a light rain got everything just wet enough to foil the driving attempts of the unwary.

I love it! My energy seems to increase a hundredfold when the wind picks up, and the rain is a balm to my spirit. It also doesn't hurt that I've been leading a group of kids this week who do nothing but sing and jump around. I'll often discover that the group of 16 (12 boys and 4 girls, all 9 to 11 years old), have divided down the middle, with one subgroup singing a different song from the other. The two favorites appear to be "The Song That Gets On Everybody's Nerves" and "The Song That Never Ends".

To top it all off, the moon is so beautiful tonight that it made me gasp. I first spotted it when I merged onto the freeway coming home. There it was, immensely orange and a day past full, seeming to descend as I barreled towards it down the sinuous, darkened freeway. As my direction changed, it dipped beneath overpasses and cavorted through the treetops.

Stone Breath's "Knotwork" cd provided the perfect soundtrack for the journey.

I kind of feel like I've hit the doldrums. Maybe this is due to the seasonal nature of my job, which makes summer seem like an extended period of slacking off. I feel like I've blinked and while my eyelids were traveling towards each other, June vanished, and while they were traveling away again, July got eaten up. August waits like a torpid beast in a sun-flecked meadow.

We went to the Oakland Zoo yesterday, where I enjoyed watching the sleeping Fruit Bats, and Willow had fun spying on the rollicking Meerkats. Such trips are expensive though, especially when one factors in gas and food, and even more especially when it is followed by a visit to the record store. For once, I bought Willow more than I bought myself, and we're now the proud owner of the dvd version of Totoro. Willow is singing the theme song as I type. Such a magical film. When I watch it, I'm always inspired in way that I can't quite put into words.

Summer camp has been wearing me out. For a job that I don't consider work, I sure come home tired. The sun beats down all day, and if I don't come home covered in duckweed, I come home under a layer of dust and sticky plant seeds from bushwhacking after snakes. At least the Yellowjackets and ticks haven't been as much in evidence this year. It's funny how the Winter months can determine what wildlife is about and about during the Summer. We had a dry Winter this year, and there seem to be fewer animals about right now.

The kids are all being helpful at camp, although I caught Sophie swiping otter pops from the freezer last week. Still, despite minor infractions like this, I'm proud of the way they're all behaving, and happy that I get to spend so much time with my stepkids. In fact, I've been spending much more time with them than their real mom and dad. I had Nathan and Willow along on the night hike I led this week, and later, after I finished up my assigned night duty (herding children down to the lower field and their sleeping bags), I discovered that Willow had decided that my sleeping bag was more comfortable than hers and had fallen asleep in it. I crawled in next to her, and spent a rather cramped night trying not to roll over on her.

So, really, all is well. I just feel like I haven't been inspired to do much lately. It's almost as if I'm going through another phase of the healing process after last year's breakup, one involving lots of reading and music listening, and not a lot of introspection. Oops. I just did some introspection. Maybe the next phase is on the horizon...

Currently listening to Elm "Bxogonoas"

Summer is blazing by and I find myself enjoying the deceptively lazy seeming days of summer camp. I say "deceptively" because, despite all of the fun, the work day leaves me pretty wiped out. I'm always marching off somewhere with a gaggle of kids behind me, whether it's down to the pond, or out into the meadow to look under logs and rocks. Sometimes I'm down at the ropes course or climbing wall, and sometimes we're adding wheelbarrows full of duckweed to the satisfyingly full compost heaps in the garden.

At home, I find that I'm more likely to pick up a novel or slip in a dvd than do anything really useful (that said, I just finished cleaning the bathtub...). I still sort of miss being free during business hours, but I manage to find time to go to places like the bank, library, and post office anyway.

I've been loaned several seasons of the more recent Battlestar Galactica series, and I'm finding that diverting and entertaining, not to mention occasionally thought provoking. I re-watched Satantango for the fourth time, and still find it just as captivating as ever. I'm reading a detective novel. I'm listening to music. I'm enjoying the slight breeze and noticing that there are clouds drifting by overhead. This makes me look forward to the coming rainy season, which might be a good one, since a new El Nino (one of these days I'll figure out how to type a tilde over a letter) is forming. Tomorrow Willow and I are meeting friends for a playdate and renting a boat (paddle boat or small canoe, probably). Everybody is several shades darker from the sun. At night, up in the hills, the raccoons are squabbling and the coyotes are howling. There's a pair of ravens nesting nearby, and the air resounds with their gutteral croaks. I found a three legged frog in the pond, with the fourth leg ending in splinter of bone. Prevailing opinion is that the rest of the fourth leg provided a raccoon with a fresh drumstick for dinner.

As of now, I have no specific plans for any more summer trips, and I'm feeling like I should make some. To much time slips by when plans are not made. I think that looking forward to certain dates actually makes time go by much more slowly, and sometimes that can be a good thing. I'm not always mindful enough of the passing time. Maybe it's just because I'm getting older. The days are the same, but the years seem so much shorter.

Currently listening to: Onna "s/t"