One more post for today, this time to mention a somber anniversary.
Exactly ten years ago, I got a phone call informing me that my mom had been found dead at home. She would be joined the following year by my dad, who died in a hospital up in Roseville with both sons at his side.
For years afterward, I would often see people who reminded me enough of my mom that I'd do a double-take. That never happened with my dad though.
My initial reaction to the news was an icy kind of shock. I had just gotten back from a photo shoot in Oakland involving the band High On Fire and a bunch of snakes (I provided the snakes, hence my involvement). The snakes were spread around my studio apartment in travel cages (my apartment was small, so all of the snakes lived up at camp), and I remember leaving my snake-filled apartment and driving to my mom's house. I had to confirm that the body was actually hers, and I had to make the hardest phone calls I've ever had to make, to my brother and my dad. I was in too much shock to even cry.
Life goes on for the rest of us though, and suddenly it's ten years later.
Sunday, January 26, 2020
The Hermit Thrush Returns
I saw the Hermit Thrush in the yard again today. I figured I'd mention it because seeing it on the Winter Solstice is what provided the incentive to start posting here again. I don't think it's living in our yard this winter though, because I've only seen it three times since the solstice. The recent daily birds seem to be a pair of California Towhees, a Yellow-rumped Warbler, and an assortment of Robins. A Bewick's Wren visits every once in awhile, as do some House Finches and a Black Phoebe.
I spent the week at our Cupertino site, cramming five days worth of instruction into four days. Or, to be more honest, dispensing with most of my usual lessons and spending more time simply hiking. There was no rain to speak of, and Steven's Creek reservoir is looking low (unlike Lake Ranch reservoir). Piccheti pond is empty as well, although I didn't visit it, preferring instead a long hike past the reservoir and then up to Maisie's peak, which is the highest point in the Fremont Older open space preserve. The view was partially obscured by some low valley fog, with the tops of the east bay hills peeking above it like inscrutable faces above bed sheets.
Willow is here this weekend, and we plan on going out later to hand in her old phone, since she got a new one on her mom's account,which she is paying for herself because she is gainfully employed. It will be nice to have one less bill to pay. There is nothing else on the agenda for today, at least not yet. Jeanine isn't working, so maybe we'll do something later.
Here are a few photos from the week:
An American Robin, bathing in Steven's Creek.
White-breasted Nuthatch.
Nuttall's Woodpecker.
Oak Titmouse.
Golden-crowned Sparrow, appearing to give directions.
I spent the week at our Cupertino site, cramming five days worth of instruction into four days. Or, to be more honest, dispensing with most of my usual lessons and spending more time simply hiking. There was no rain to speak of, and Steven's Creek reservoir is looking low (unlike Lake Ranch reservoir). Piccheti pond is empty as well, although I didn't visit it, preferring instead a long hike past the reservoir and then up to Maisie's peak, which is the highest point in the Fremont Older open space preserve. The view was partially obscured by some low valley fog, with the tops of the east bay hills peeking above it like inscrutable faces above bed sheets.
Willow is here this weekend, and we plan on going out later to hand in her old phone, since she got a new one on her mom's account,which she is paying for herself because she is gainfully employed. It will be nice to have one less bill to pay. There is nothing else on the agenda for today, at least not yet. Jeanine isn't working, so maybe we'll do something later.
Here are a few photos from the week:
An American Robin, bathing in Steven's Creek.
White-breasted Nuthatch.
Nuttall's Woodpecker.
Oak Titmouse.
Golden-crowned Sparrow, appearing to give directions.
Tuesday, January 21, 2020
Coincidence
Sometimes, for fun, I look back at my old posts here, usually in some neatly rounded off increment of time. I just looked back at a post from exactly a decade ago, and discovered that I was listening to the same band that I was listening to earlier this evening.
One would expect this kind of coincidence to involve a favorite band, a band that I listen to often, but this wasn't the case. I don't often listen to Black Tape For A Blue Girl, and don't consider them to be among my absolute favorites, so it's a weird coincidence, but ultimately a meaningless one, I suppose.
One would expect this kind of coincidence to involve a favorite band, a band that I listen to often, but this wasn't the case. I don't often listen to Black Tape For A Blue Girl, and don't consider them to be among my absolute favorites, so it's a weird coincidence, but ultimately a meaningless one, I suppose.
Monday, January 20, 2020
Name Change
I just changed the title of this blog to something more appropriate. The old name, "The Continuation of Life As We Know It", was overlong and kind of weak. I'm not sure why I kept it for nearly 18 years. Actually, I am sure. I have a tendency to accept things as they are, which often reveals itself as a kind of weird complacency.
The new name, "Antisocial Media", isn't so much a criticism of social media (although there are definitely a long list of criticisms that could be leveled at it) as a description of having a "blog" in 2020. If I was writing on parchment with a quill pen, I wouldn't be too much more out of date. I'm under the impression that nobody much reads this (especially after me writing next to nothing for over a year), so it's not like there is any real social element to it.
Also, I do have antisocial tendencies. I'm an introvert. I don't go to parties very often, and I find that as I get older, I'm happier staying at home than going out. I have huge libraries of books, records, and films to entertain me.
These days, when I do go out, it's usually into the wild(ish) places with my camera. Sometimes Jeanine comes along. More often she doesn't. She works on weekends, after all.
The new name, "Antisocial Media", isn't so much a criticism of social media (although there are definitely a long list of criticisms that could be leveled at it) as a description of having a "blog" in 2020. If I was writing on parchment with a quill pen, I wouldn't be too much more out of date. I'm under the impression that nobody much reads this (especially after me writing next to nothing for over a year), so it's not like there is any real social element to it.
Also, I do have antisocial tendencies. I'm an introvert. I don't go to parties very often, and I find that as I get older, I'm happier staying at home than going out. I have huge libraries of books, records, and films to entertain me.
These days, when I do go out, it's usually into the wild(ish) places with my camera. Sometimes Jeanine comes along. More often she doesn't. She works on weekends, after all.
More Blathering About Birds
We're 20 days into 2020 now. As I type, the sky is gray and the heater is on. We had a bit of rain this week, exclusively on the day of the 5.5 hour hike called the "epic journey". I combined my group with another one, into a combined force of over 40 kids, 4 cabin leaders, and 2 field instructors. The dumping rain and the plummeting temperature reduced a portion of the group to shivering misery, so we turned around, did a game inside for awhile (Coyote Dodgeball), and then took advantage of a break in the weather and tried again.
It hailed on us.
Fortunately, this proved to be the most exciting part of the hike for the majority of the kids. We danced as we were pelted by shards of ice.
I had a girl in my group who had arrived from Kenya just last Wednesday. She seemed to know only a few words of English, but the smile she had on her face was evidence that the week was a successful one, as far as she was concerned.
Saturday, I went over to Palo Alto Baylands for a few hours. I missed the Murray Bowles celebration at Gilman St. yesterday, (he passed away last month) and in fact, never left the house (I watched four episodes of The Rivals of Sherlock Holmes and listened to music, among other things). Today is Martin Luther King day, so I'm home typing rather than out hiking. The beginning of my work week seems to coincide with more rain.
Here are some photos from the last week.
California Scrub Jay in the garden:
Yellow-rumped Warbler sitting in a tree on the trail we refer to as Ranger Road:
The Red Crossbills were back for a second week in a row, but without the Pine Siskins in tow:
I still don't have a great picture of a Cedar Waxwing, but for now, this will do:
Dark-eyed Juncos are the most common bird at camp, perhaps because they don't seem to mind the presence of people as much as some birds do, and so are less likely to vacate the scene before they're spotted. In fact, it feels like we're constantly in danger of tripping over them.
Tying for the "most common bird" award is the Steller's Jay:
The fire pit, after Thursday's storm:
Female Northern Flicker:
Our resident Red-tailed Hawk has a friend now:
At Palo Alto Baylands, I got photos of a couple of birds I hadn't yet photographed, namely the Canvasback and Greater Scaup.
I've decided to finally start learning the difference between different species of gulls. This is a Ring-billed Gull, I think:
Male and female Common Yellowthroat:
Great Blue Heron:
Bushtit:
A Northern Harrier, uncooperatively being just far enough away so I couldn't get a good shot:
Currently listening to Low "A Lifetime of Temporary Relief: 10 Years of B-sides & Rarities"
It hailed on us.
Fortunately, this proved to be the most exciting part of the hike for the majority of the kids. We danced as we were pelted by shards of ice.
I had a girl in my group who had arrived from Kenya just last Wednesday. She seemed to know only a few words of English, but the smile she had on her face was evidence that the week was a successful one, as far as she was concerned.
Saturday, I went over to Palo Alto Baylands for a few hours. I missed the Murray Bowles celebration at Gilman St. yesterday, (he passed away last month) and in fact, never left the house (I watched four episodes of The Rivals of Sherlock Holmes and listened to music, among other things). Today is Martin Luther King day, so I'm home typing rather than out hiking. The beginning of my work week seems to coincide with more rain.
Here are some photos from the last week.
California Scrub Jay in the garden:
Yellow-rumped Warbler sitting in a tree on the trail we refer to as Ranger Road:
The Red Crossbills were back for a second week in a row, but without the Pine Siskins in tow:
I still don't have a great picture of a Cedar Waxwing, but for now, this will do:
Dark-eyed Juncos are the most common bird at camp, perhaps because they don't seem to mind the presence of people as much as some birds do, and so are less likely to vacate the scene before they're spotted. In fact, it feels like we're constantly in danger of tripping over them.
Tying for the "most common bird" award is the Steller's Jay:
The fire pit, after Thursday's storm:
Female Northern Flicker:
Our resident Red-tailed Hawk has a friend now:
At Palo Alto Baylands, I got photos of a couple of birds I hadn't yet photographed, namely the Canvasback and Greater Scaup.
I've decided to finally start learning the difference between different species of gulls. This is a Ring-billed Gull, I think:
Male and female Common Yellowthroat:
Great Blue Heron:
Bushtit:
A Northern Harrier, uncooperatively being just far enough away so I couldn't get a good shot:
Currently listening to Low "A Lifetime of Temporary Relief: 10 Years of B-sides & Rarities"
Saturday, January 11, 2020
New Year, New Birds
While leading a tour for the first group of kids to arrive at camp for the new year, a loud group of yellow and red birds descended on the tree near the bathrooms. They proved to be Red Crossbills, which I had only seen once before (the last day of camp before the break, actually), so I ran and got my camera.
The females are more of a yellow color. It's pretty fucking typical that the common name only references the males. The "crossbill" part of their name references their can-opener like bills, used for prying cones apart to get at seeds.
I saw them again later, and then again the next day. There were a few Pine Siskins mixed in with the flock, which was a bonus. On Friday, there was a lone crossbill singing from the top of a tree. I'm not sure if sightings will become a regular occurrence this season, or if the flock will move on.
When the whole flock was up in the fir trees, their voracious eating and poor table (er, branch?) manners resulted in a sound not unlike newly inundated rice crispies,and the sight of a hail of dropped cones. It was also interesting watching them jockey for position along the rain gutter they were using as a trough.
The females are more of a yellow color. It's pretty fucking typical that the common name only references the males. The "crossbill" part of their name references their can-opener like bills, used for prying cones apart to get at seeds.
I saw them again later, and then again the next day. There were a few Pine Siskins mixed in with the flock, which was a bonus. On Friday, there was a lone crossbill singing from the top of a tree. I'm not sure if sightings will become a regular occurrence this season, or if the flock will move on.
When the whole flock was up in the fir trees, their voracious eating and poor table (er, branch?) manners resulted in a sound not unlike newly inundated rice crispies,and the sight of a hail of dropped cones. It was also interesting watching them jockey for position along the rain gutter they were using as a trough.
Saturday, January 04, 2020
Far Away So Close
I'm currently listening to a CD of people meowing. What are you doing with *your* Saturday evening?
Several days into the new year, and our garbage disposal has called it quits. The political situation still sucks, and there is a very real possibility of war heating up again in the middle east, and Australia is on fire. Not that I'm equating the first item with the other ones, but it does illustrate how close-by minor inconveniences often share equal headspace with distant disasters. I'm also not going to complain about the year being off to a shitty start. We live on a continuum, not the discrete chunks of time brutally imposed upon us by calendars and clocks.
Several days into the new year, and our garbage disposal has called it quits. The political situation still sucks, and there is a very real possibility of war heating up again in the middle east, and Australia is on fire. Not that I'm equating the first item with the other ones, but it does illustrate how close-by minor inconveniences often share equal headspace with distant disasters. I'm also not going to complain about the year being off to a shitty start. We live on a continuum, not the discrete chunks of time brutally imposed upon us by calendars and clocks.
Wednesday, January 01, 2020
Roaring Twenties?
A smattering of explosions preceded and followed midnight, eventually trailing off into silence and poor air quality alerts. I hadn't planned to stay up until midnight, but did anyway.
I'm in the middle of reading the 9th Malazan Book of the Fallen novel, Dust of Dreams (I keep wanting to call it Dust of Time, but that's an Angelopoulos film). It's actually so long that it's spread out over two books, each well over a thousand pages in length. I've decided not to do a reading challenge this year because I find that I delay reading longer books in order to inflate my numbers before the end of the year. Maybe I take fun challenges too seriously. It's not like I need a challenge to encourage reading anyway.
I re-watched two films last night, Werner Herzog's Where The Green Ants Dream, and when Jeanine came home, John Carpenter's Halloween II. Strange double feature.
The last bird I saw in 2019 was a California Towhee, and the first bird I saw in 2020 was a Yellow-rumped Warbler. Neither was unexpected.
The first music of the new year is: irr.app.(ext.) "Fiddly Bits 1.x"
Happy New Decade. I wonder if mentally compartmentalizing time makes it seem to go faster. I'm guessing not, if my two weeks off for the holidays are any indication.
I'm in the middle of reading the 9th Malazan Book of the Fallen novel, Dust of Dreams (I keep wanting to call it Dust of Time, but that's an Angelopoulos film). It's actually so long that it's spread out over two books, each well over a thousand pages in length. I've decided not to do a reading challenge this year because I find that I delay reading longer books in order to inflate my numbers before the end of the year. Maybe I take fun challenges too seriously. It's not like I need a challenge to encourage reading anyway.
I re-watched two films last night, Werner Herzog's Where The Green Ants Dream, and when Jeanine came home, John Carpenter's Halloween II. Strange double feature.
The last bird I saw in 2019 was a California Towhee, and the first bird I saw in 2020 was a Yellow-rumped Warbler. Neither was unexpected.
The first music of the new year is: irr.app.(ext.) "Fiddly Bits 1.x"
Happy New Decade. I wonder if mentally compartmentalizing time makes it seem to go faster. I'm guessing not, if my two weeks off for the holidays are any indication.
Tuesday, December 31, 2019
According to my technology, I've walked 3,122.28 miles this year. The disintegration of several pairs of shoes now makes so much more sense. I recently bought an expensive pair of hiking boots though, so hopefully my next shoe purchase will be far in the future.
Oh, how many steps are in 3,122.28 miles? Apparently 6,132,771.
When I wasn't walking, I was reading.
This coming year, I vow to watch more films. I've been neglecting to do that lately. I've been plowing through a Werner Herzog box set during the annual pause between Christmas and the new year, so I'm off to a good start even before the ball drops.
Maybe I'll write more too. I feel like I've at least blown the dust off this site. The spiders can stay though. I never kick out spiders.
Oh, how many steps are in 3,122.28 miles? Apparently 6,132,771.
When I wasn't walking, I was reading.
This coming year, I vow to watch more films. I've been neglecting to do that lately. I've been plowing through a Werner Herzog box set during the annual pause between Christmas and the new year, so I'm off to a good start even before the ball drops.
Maybe I'll write more too. I feel like I've at least blown the dust off this site. The spiders can stay though. I never kick out spiders.
Tuesday, December 24, 2019
This report announced the disappearance of nearly a third of all North American birds. I think about this little Hermit Thrush and the journeys it makes as it migrates back and forth between its wintering grounds and its breeding grounds. I'm not sure if it makes the journey between our yard and somewhere in Canada or Alaska, or if it merely flies due east into the midwest during the summer, but either way, it makes quite a journey. The Audubon Society predicts that the effects of climate change will cause this species to lose 71% of its range (and gain 18% to the north) for a net loss of 53%.
Hang in there, little bird.
Saturday, December 21, 2019
Solstice
In roughly three hours, the pendulum starts swinging into the light again. Our Solstice day was marked by the first sighting of the Hermit Thrush that calls our yard home during the cold months. Last winter, I struggled to identify it as it lurked in the foliage. This year, with a few seasons of obsessive birdwatching under my belt, identification is rarely a problem.
Writing though, apparently is. I've more or less abandoned this site over the past year, preferring instead to spend my free time reading, listening to music, and taking pictures of birds.
Consider this yet another attempt to resurrect this site. It helps that I have the next two weeks off.
Happy Solstice, hypothetical reader. Let's swing into the light yet again.
Writing though, apparently is. I've more or less abandoned this site over the past year, preferring instead to spend my free time reading, listening to music, and taking pictures of birds.
Consider this yet another attempt to resurrect this site. It helps that I have the next two weeks off.
Happy Solstice, hypothetical reader. Let's swing into the light yet again.
Sunday, January 20, 2019
A Sign of Life, Plus Rain
It's a rainy Sunday in January after a rainy week at work dealing with a tree hitting a power line and knocking out our power and finding out that the backup generator is broken, witnessing a tree hit a kid on the head (fortunately it was a small tree and the kid, after complaining of pain and dizziness, seemed none the worse for wear), and walking into work up the aptly named Heartbreak Hill the day afterward because the road was still full of tree and snapped power lines. The power ended up being completely out for around 23 hours. Some of my coworkers were stuck at work, while others were stuck away from work. We carried on though, and other than being a bit colder and wetter than they might have been otherwise, the kids didn't really even notice all of the chaos going on behind the scenes.
On the flip side of things, the week before I got some (admittedly far off and poor quality) shots of the Bald Eagle that may or may not now live up by the reservoir. Our old director mentioned that she'd seen one up there a couple of years ago, so it might indeed be a return visitor. It's nice to have any sort of wildlife success story (December marks the first time I'd ever seen a Bald Eagle in the area) in our current chaotic day and age.
I've been really getting into birding lately, so this was a bit of a treat. This particular bird was sitting on a branch way up in a tall tree on the far side of the reservoir.
I notice that it has been around 5 months since my last post here. My writing in this format has pretty much ground to a halt, mostly because I burned out and simply got out of the habit of doing this. Consider this an attempt to struggle back into some sort of regular writing schedule. If you don't hear from me for months, it's because I have failed.
On the flip side of things, the week before I got some (admittedly far off and poor quality) shots of the Bald Eagle that may or may not now live up by the reservoir. Our old director mentioned that she'd seen one up there a couple of years ago, so it might indeed be a return visitor. It's nice to have any sort of wildlife success story (December marks the first time I'd ever seen a Bald Eagle in the area) in our current chaotic day and age.
I've been really getting into birding lately, so this was a bit of a treat. This particular bird was sitting on a branch way up in a tall tree on the far side of the reservoir.
I notice that it has been around 5 months since my last post here. My writing in this format has pretty much ground to a halt, mostly because I burned out and simply got out of the habit of doing this. Consider this an attempt to struggle back into some sort of regular writing schedule. If you don't hear from me for months, it's because I have failed.
Monday, August 13, 2018
A Quick Summer Recap
Summer camp is behind us until next year, when it will suddenly appear in our headlights again. I worked seven of the nine weeks, six of them for the Trailblazers program, and one for what we are now calling World of Wonder (or WOW) camp. The two weeks I didn't work were due to the cancellation of one session of the new Family Camp, and some miscommunication on my part about my vacation plans (or lack thereof, as it turned out).
Most summers come with at least one unusual animal sighting. Past years include such highlights as finding a snapping turtle in the pond, watching a bobcat chase a rabbit, and witnessing a Pacific Giant Salamander eating a banana slug. This summer, I finally got to see two rattlesnakes engaged in ritual combat. It only lasted a few seconds, and the combatants were partially obscured by tall grass, so I didn't get a photo.
Speaking of photos, here are a few of my favorites from the summer:
A millipede navigating the boulders at Todd Creek.
A leaf spiral inspired by a similar artwork I found online.
A Santa Cruz Aquatic Garter Snake found at Lake Ranch Reservoir. They grow them big out there.
A leaf flower, inspired by the need to create something a little different.
This was my first nature art of the summer.
Some rodent remains.
A California Kingsnake found at Lake Ranch Reservoir. I don't usually find these during the summer. It was crawling through the high grass down by the water (which is really low at the moment due to damn repair work slated to last until October), probably hunting garter snakes or getting a drink.
It's not summer without rattlesnakes. This is one of the most dependable ones. She lives in the burrow just off the edge of our lower field, and I saw her every week. I even collected a couple of shed skins from the burrow entrance. Due to a recent shed, she's looking her best here.
There are a lot of crayfish in the pond this year. Unfortunately, there is also a lot of duckweed, which tends to obscure them and wreak havoc with the ecosystem.
Crumbled leaf spiral.
As usual, I didn't take a lot of pictures with people in them. They were just out of frame in all of the above photos though. Willow volunteered for three weeks this summer, including one as a mentor for the Leaders In Training program. She was nervous about doing this, but she tends to be anxious about trying new things. She did fine.
I now have three weeks off. What to do? Stay tuned...
Most summers come with at least one unusual animal sighting. Past years include such highlights as finding a snapping turtle in the pond, watching a bobcat chase a rabbit, and witnessing a Pacific Giant Salamander eating a banana slug. This summer, I finally got to see two rattlesnakes engaged in ritual combat. It only lasted a few seconds, and the combatants were partially obscured by tall grass, so I didn't get a photo.
Speaking of photos, here are a few of my favorites from the summer:
A millipede navigating the boulders at Todd Creek.
A leaf spiral inspired by a similar artwork I found online.
A Santa Cruz Aquatic Garter Snake found at Lake Ranch Reservoir. They grow them big out there.
A leaf flower, inspired by the need to create something a little different.
This was my first nature art of the summer.
Some rodent remains.
A California Kingsnake found at Lake Ranch Reservoir. I don't usually find these during the summer. It was crawling through the high grass down by the water (which is really low at the moment due to damn repair work slated to last until October), probably hunting garter snakes or getting a drink.
It's not summer without rattlesnakes. This is one of the most dependable ones. She lives in the burrow just off the edge of our lower field, and I saw her every week. I even collected a couple of shed skins from the burrow entrance. Due to a recent shed, she's looking her best here.
There are a lot of crayfish in the pond this year. Unfortunately, there is also a lot of duckweed, which tends to obscure them and wreak havoc with the ecosystem.
Crumbled leaf spiral.
As usual, I didn't take a lot of pictures with people in them. They were just out of frame in all of the above photos though. Willow volunteered for three weeks this summer, including one as a mentor for the Leaders In Training program. She was nervous about doing this, but she tends to be anxious about trying new things. She did fine.
I now have three weeks off. What to do? Stay tuned...
Sunday, July 01, 2018
Cheese Is Fantastic!
This year, I've been reining myself in a little. For years, whenever I would think to write down New Year's resolutions or vows, I would invariable include the word "moderation" in there somewhere. I don't do well with maintenance or moderation. I've always been more of an "all or nothing" sort of person, but at least I have the personal insight to be aware of this and let it bother me.
Lately (read: always) I've been buying too much music. Being a lover of physical media, that means storage woes, not to mention finding the time to listen to everything more than once. I've been methodically going through my collection and re-listening to things, but it has taken me years so far, with no end in sight. It's been wonderful revisiting things though. With this in mind, I've put limits on how much new music I can buy, and it has more or less worked.
I am also aware of my tendency to eat too much cheese and ice cream. Especially cheese. I love the stuff. One of my personal challenges for the month of June was to not eat any cheese or ice cream for the entire month.
I can now happily report that I was successful. I also lost 15.5 lbs, and my resting heart rate went from 69 bpm to 63 bpm (with a brief flirtation with 62 bpm in the middle somewhere). Sure, my resting heart rate fluctuates, but before this June, it had never been below 66 bpm ("never" meaning since I got a Fitbit that showed my resting heart rate, at least).
The other happy side effect is that I've been cooking more, and eating more healthy food. The challenge had a bit of a snowball effect.
Lately (read: always) I've been buying too much music. Being a lover of physical media, that means storage woes, not to mention finding the time to listen to everything more than once. I've been methodically going through my collection and re-listening to things, but it has taken me years so far, with no end in sight. It's been wonderful revisiting things though. With this in mind, I've put limits on how much new music I can buy, and it has more or less worked.
I am also aware of my tendency to eat too much cheese and ice cream. Especially cheese. I love the stuff. One of my personal challenges for the month of June was to not eat any cheese or ice cream for the entire month.
I can now happily report that I was successful. I also lost 15.5 lbs, and my resting heart rate went from 69 bpm to 63 bpm (with a brief flirtation with 62 bpm in the middle somewhere). Sure, my resting heart rate fluctuates, but before this June, it had never been below 66 bpm ("never" meaning since I got a Fitbit that showed my resting heart rate, at least).
The other happy side effect is that I've been cooking more, and eating more healthy food. The challenge had a bit of a snowball effect.
Monday, June 25, 2018
Summer
It's funny how summer camp starts before Summer does. Not that many people give it much thought. The Solstice came and went during the second week of camp, meaning that the lightest night hike of the year is now behind us.
The first two weeks were unusual for several reasons, first and foremost being that our longtime camp director had the temerity to retire, leaving behind a huge pair of shoes to fill. Enter Sasquatch as the new summer camp overlord. And yes, like his name suggests, he has a huge pair of feet. Perfect fit. Still, there were a few birthing pains here and there.
I was off in Trailblazer land. Gobi, who worked the program last year, is directing it this year, so there weren't many big changes for me. I sometimes feel a bit self-conscious that I'm not directing anything, but then I remember that I don't want to direct anything. It usually involves things like phone calls and paperwork. Not my idea of a good time.
During our training week, we really came together as a staff, with each program sharing an activity or two. The Leaders In Training staff shared a team challenge during which we were silently evaluated by staff who placed slips of paper on the floor behind us as we worked. The cards had words like suggester, includer, supporter, etc.
I got more suggester cards than anything else. That's kind of what I do. Just don't put me in charge of people.
The first two weeks are behind us now. The first week was the inaugural voyage of Trailblazers Beyond, during which the campers stayed overnight for the whole week. We only had 34 campers spread out between 3 group leaders (the other two being Weasel and Shadow, which is interesting because one week years ago, I was a group leader with Weasel as my counselor and Shadow as one of my campers). For the first time, all Trailblazers group leaders play musical instruments too, which meant we could play songs without outside help.
The second week was given over to the Migrant Education program. We hosted them last year too, but this year there were over 100 of them, which meant adding a couple of group leaders and rethinking things a bit. Our transition times and time with our groups suffered a bit, but we soldiered though the week with smiles on our faces.
There haven't been any unusual animal sightings so far. The usual suspects are out and about, of course. I did find one California Pink Glowworm last week as I was getting into my car after the night hike. I also rescued a toad from pool filter during swim time. During the second week, camp was inundated by California Tortoiseshell butterflies, which apparently are prone to unexplained population explosions.
Due to a miscommunication on my part, I'm off this week, and due to a cancellation of one session of the new Family Camp, I'm off next week too. Things will get done.
While all of the above has been happening, I haven't eaten any cheese or ice cream. This was my goal for the month. Not too surprisingly, I've already lost about 12 pounds and my resting heart rate has decreased.
Here's some photos from the last couple of weeks.
This is a Soil Centipede. During the week, I saw one eating a small insect. Weasel found a Tiger Centipede eating another one.
I found a tick on me, but removed it before it bit. Not that it matters. It's a dog tick, and they don't carry Lyme.
The usual rattlesnakes in the usual place. What was unusual was the fact that one of them was fully visible. Usually they're much more hidden.
As the dryness of summer creeps through the forest, the Goldback ferns start to curl up. The spores on the underside of the leaves reflect UV light a bit.
Our Olive-keeled Flat Rock Scorpion molted! That's the first time it's done that since I bought it.
This toad, recently rescued from the pool filter, checks out its reflection in the fun house mirror. Actually, my guitar.
A California Pink Glowworm who didn't have the decency to be found during the night hike, instead waiting until the kids were all on their way to bed.
And finally, one of hundreds of California Tortoiseshell butterflies.
The first two weeks were unusual for several reasons, first and foremost being that our longtime camp director had the temerity to retire, leaving behind a huge pair of shoes to fill. Enter Sasquatch as the new summer camp overlord. And yes, like his name suggests, he has a huge pair of feet. Perfect fit. Still, there were a few birthing pains here and there.
I was off in Trailblazer land. Gobi, who worked the program last year, is directing it this year, so there weren't many big changes for me. I sometimes feel a bit self-conscious that I'm not directing anything, but then I remember that I don't want to direct anything. It usually involves things like phone calls and paperwork. Not my idea of a good time.
During our training week, we really came together as a staff, with each program sharing an activity or two. The Leaders In Training staff shared a team challenge during which we were silently evaluated by staff who placed slips of paper on the floor behind us as we worked. The cards had words like suggester, includer, supporter, etc.
I got more suggester cards than anything else. That's kind of what I do. Just don't put me in charge of people.
The first two weeks are behind us now. The first week was the inaugural voyage of Trailblazers Beyond, during which the campers stayed overnight for the whole week. We only had 34 campers spread out between 3 group leaders (the other two being Weasel and Shadow, which is interesting because one week years ago, I was a group leader with Weasel as my counselor and Shadow as one of my campers). For the first time, all Trailblazers group leaders play musical instruments too, which meant we could play songs without outside help.
The second week was given over to the Migrant Education program. We hosted them last year too, but this year there were over 100 of them, which meant adding a couple of group leaders and rethinking things a bit. Our transition times and time with our groups suffered a bit, but we soldiered though the week with smiles on our faces.
There haven't been any unusual animal sightings so far. The usual suspects are out and about, of course. I did find one California Pink Glowworm last week as I was getting into my car after the night hike. I also rescued a toad from pool filter during swim time. During the second week, camp was inundated by California Tortoiseshell butterflies, which apparently are prone to unexplained population explosions.
Due to a miscommunication on my part, I'm off this week, and due to a cancellation of one session of the new Family Camp, I'm off next week too. Things will get done.
While all of the above has been happening, I haven't eaten any cheese or ice cream. This was my goal for the month. Not too surprisingly, I've already lost about 12 pounds and my resting heart rate has decreased.
Here's some photos from the last couple of weeks.
This is a Soil Centipede. During the week, I saw one eating a small insect. Weasel found a Tiger Centipede eating another one.
I found a tick on me, but removed it before it bit. Not that it matters. It's a dog tick, and they don't carry Lyme.
The usual rattlesnakes in the usual place. What was unusual was the fact that one of them was fully visible. Usually they're much more hidden.
As the dryness of summer creeps through the forest, the Goldback ferns start to curl up. The spores on the underside of the leaves reflect UV light a bit.
Our Olive-keeled Flat Rock Scorpion molted! That's the first time it's done that since I bought it.
This toad, recently rescued from the pool filter, checks out its reflection in the fun house mirror. Actually, my guitar.
A California Pink Glowworm who didn't have the decency to be found during the night hike, instead waiting until the kids were all on their way to bed.
And finally, one of hundreds of California Tortoiseshell butterflies.
