Dailyish Musings: July 2008 Archives

Well not quite, but tomorrow morning we are. Since we're going for a whopping three weeks and I'm a blogging addict, I will attempt to keep up with posting at least something on a regular basis, but I probably won't manage a daily haiku, post and picture. I'm going to limit myself to a haiku or a picture for the next while and if I have anything really important to say I'll just ramble on under a photo for a bit. Bear in mind that whilst on the farm I will only have dial-up, and it only works when you walk down to the barn and turn off the cow's electric fence. Mine is not to question why this works, it is just a necessary part of the procedure. Trust me, I know.

While on our road trip between camp grounds I am hoping to find some wireless mountain cafes to stop in and upload the green splendor that is Beautiful British Columbia. I'm currently clearing off my laptop hard drive, the better to store copious amounts of digital photographic data. I may just glue the camera to my eye. That's how excited I am to have fresh inspiration, a new milieu.

I was just sitting down to write a thought provoking and insightful post that would inspire hearts and minds to seize the day and make something wonderful out of it, when my mom showed up at the door and suggested we go to the beach. After a three hundredths of a second debate; beach or comput... we threw on our suits, grabbed the beach toys and headed out the door.

Somehow, the all important message I was going to post this morning got washed away with the waves. But I did take my camera to capture us capturing kelp.

So in a self congratulatory moment I'd like to mention that Kyna graduated from 'Polliwog' to 'Guppy' today. Yes, she can now swim the length of the pool, dive for rings and blocks and such on the bottom, float, do the backstroke and wear goggles like a pro. She is a fish. She has taken the news of her graduation with humility and grace and is celebrating by playing in her room and staying completely dry.

Last night we went to see Wall-E at the drive-in. The last time I was at a drive-in I was six and utterly petrified. We were watching The Clash Of The Titans. Remember that gem? The gushes of ketchup that poured out of Medusa's head scared the crap out of me.




So I felt it only fair to subject Kyna to the same experience. Except Wall-E isn't really very scary.  In fact Wall-E is, of course, utterly wonderful. Everything Pixar does is at the pinnacle of its genre. I remember watching the first Pixar short in Spike & Mike's Festival of Animation (way) back in the eighties. I was hooked back then and I'm glad they've had the meteoric rise to full production studio, because with Wall-E they take empathy for electronic devices through personification full circle. Wall-E is every bit as lovable as that first little jumping lamp. Makes me want to be nicer to my toaster.

If all goes well I'll be shooting another wedding this weekend with the wonderful and talented Sarah Yates (fine art pieces and wedding portfolio). I found her by shear luck as a guest of one of her clients and promptly hounded her mercilessly to let me tag along sometime.

 

This is a photo from the first wedding I did with her. It was a very sweet catholic wedding and it brought home just how religiously illiterate I am. When we asked the priest what sort of photography was allowed in the church he said we could photograph everything except the mass. Great!

Uh... which part exactly is the 'mass'? Isn't that the whole thing? Luckily Sarah had either a better clue than I, or just didn't care and we shot everything except when everyone cued up to go get the bread of his body and grape juice of his blood. Somehow that didn't seem wedding-like so we skipped it.

When I read Kyna our itinerary for our vacation she got a look of abject horror on her face and in  a very distressed tone she asked, "are we really going to only eat cherries and peaches for three whole days?"

"Uh, no! No, of course not sweetie, we'll eat other things too."

"So you lied."

"Uh... well, not really. It's complicated. I exaggerated a bit that's all."

"So how will people know that what you said wasn't true?"

Christ kid! "Uh... they just know?"

"I think you better tell people the truth. So they don't worry."

"I'll get right on that..."

Conscience cleared.

So you will all be pleased to know that the lawn is doing awesome. It is almost at a state of complete green. Last night we ate outside and marveled that Chris was capable of home improvements of such magnitude.  I think he's just a tad proud of himself and rightfully so.

Hopefully it stays healthy over the massive upcoming vacation we have planned. I'm going to drag Kyna all over the bottom half of British Columbia, Canada for three weeks. First stop is Eden. No seriously, the farm I grew up on is one of the most magically abundant places on Earth. The garter snakes are as big as pythons, patrolling the garden's vast swaths of blackberries, raspberries, squashes, beans, lettuces, tomatoes, peas, potatoes, carrots, broccolis, cauliflowers, strawberries, apple trees, pear trees, walnut trees, plum trees, grape vines, pumpkins, zucchinis, beets, garlic, onions, corn, and peppers. The bounty that pours forth from that patch of land is staggering, and if it weren't for the python garter snakes I'd make myself a little hut in the corn patch and sleep there for the week.

Following our week on Denman Island, Kyna and I are going to head on over to another idyllic fairyland, Salt Spring Island.  We're going to camp for four or five days meet up with Chris, party our way through Vancouver with all our old chums, then head to the Okanagan Valley  where we will eat nothing but ripe peaches and cherries for three days before finally crossing the Rocky Mountains, camping along the way until we reach Calgary, Alberta to visit  Chris' mom for a couple days.

We leave next Tuesday, so this week I'm hunting down campgrounds, making CD's for the car, and dreaming of organic produce. If anyone has any road trip song recommendations, let 'em fly!

Life is peaceful and slow here this Friday morning. Which is lovely. Yesterday I took the kitties in to be spayed.

Oh. The. Utter. Terror.

Poor Pico, little Miss Tough, was so freaked out she clawed her way up my face to sit resolutely on top of my head with her back firmly to the exam table.  The vet, however, was the picture of patience, letting Kyna listen to the kitties racing hearts, calmly easing out the claws from my scalp and gently carrying the two terrified puff balls into his surgical torture chamber.

You may be wondering if I had pangs of guilt. Maybe I should have felt their fear, gone all mother-bear and turned the car around and gone home at the first plaintive mew. How could I just wave happily at their terrified, pleading kitten eyes, whistle a jaunty tune and leave?

Because I endured TWENTY DAYS worth of Pico's first two heats. Including the painfully loud yowling sessions at midnight, 2:00 am and 4:00 am EVERY NIGHT.

Never again. Life is looking rosy and after an hour or two of shocked sulking when I brought them home, uterus's removed, bellies shaved, microchips implanted, I lured the kitties out from under the bed with tuna. Tuna is like a reset button. After finishing, their little walnut brains were wiped clean and forgetting the grievous bodily insults of the immediate past they rubbed  themselves against my legs and purred.

Kitties are so great.

I'm madly tidying... will post again tomorrow, in the meantime check out these fine summer road trip destinations:

The Bassigator of Abita Springs, Louisiana

The Frog People of Loveland, Ohio

The Skunk Ape of the Everglades

And saving the best for last,

The Worlds FIRST Drive Through Strip Joint!

 Ok, out of my entire family I am the most musically challenged. My mother and brother both play guitar, my other brother is the drummer for the band Parlor Steps (that's him right up front - hi Rob!), my step mother is in a choir and my sister plays guitar, sings and is currently getting her degree in music production from Mills. She can be heard here (Hi Lovage!). When they read what I'm about to write they will probably shake their heads with music snootiness and email me polite, heartfelt sibling advice to keep my drastically underdeveloped taste in music to myself. For the family's sake.

But! That will be tomorrow and this is most assuredly still today! (I think.)  This morning I heard this woman embarrass herself hopelessly on NPR over the band Bitter:Sweet. Her praise was so gushingly continuous I had to actually turn off the radio so she could feel better after she finished, knowing in spirit that at least one person didn't witness the whole painful experience. However, upon arriving home I did check out Bitter:Sweet. And while I don't quite have the same gushing reaction that the caller had, I have to admit I do like their sound. Despite the fact that all their songs sound similar and lyrics aren't their strong point, it has a perfect James Bond meets Ambient meets Bossa Nova quality that would go smashing as the backdrop to a barbecue or cocktail party.  That, and I wouldn't mind a robot monster of my very own:




As it turns out one half of the duo is Kirin Shahani from Supreme Beings of Leisure, whose first album was great. And the other half is Shana Halligan, daughter to Dick Halligan of Blood, Sweat and Tears. One of those musical families where everyone gets some talent.

I volunteer Sunday evenings for the Center for Community Solutions as part of the San Diego Sexual Assault Response Team, or SART.  I'm the crisis advocate, and I meet the other three components; the police officer, nurse and survivor at a nearby clinic where the forensic rape exam takes place. My main roles are that of empathetic listener and making sure the officer and nurse act in accordance with the survivors choices, which can sometimes slip their minds.

I've been doing it for two years now, and after pepper spraying the FedEx guy for not pulling out his ID fast enough, I've decided that my psyche needs a break. For the next two months I can have my phone on vibrate, misplace it, or let it go completely dead under the seat of the car and not feel a twinge of panic that I missed a call from dispatch. It is glorious.

I'm sure in two months I'll feel the need to start up again, and since one of the most difficult things about the job was the awkwardness felt by other people when I mentioned what I do, I just want to let you know that if you are interested in this type of work, or have any questions, feel free to email me. I'm happy to share my experience in this field.

I felt a great deal of satisfaction helping survivors and although the break is much needed, I began to think about positive things I could do that would still contribute to society at large, but also allow myself to heal and get my brain chemistry back on track. The very next day I came across the Hope Revolution. Krystyn Heide, of Squaregirl.com, began hiding little encouraging notes around New York City and has started an avalanche of fluttery, paper-squirreling, do-gooders in cities all over. It may seem a bit idealistic, or even corny to some, but I'm sold. I just finished my first batch and plan to hide them over the next couple of days. Vive La Révolution!

Have a great one everybody! Kisses and birthday wishes to my gargantuan American mistress (population wise). She provides shelter and comfort to this skinny, pale Canadian, tempted from her wholesome northern wilderness by the beguiling sun of America's luscious California coast.


An aside ~
Kyna has requested that we have Asian glass noodle soup for dinner tomorrow instead of barbecuing. Obviously I've been remiss at instilling patriotic brainwashing traditions.

So on that fateful day when little Cater left us, I got a job. My interview went well, I'm qualified (all that was required was that I have a science degree and a spattering of life experience) and tuberculosis free. I will be a 'Resource Specialist', which is really just a glorified tutor, at High Tech High school in the fall. I'll be responsible for providing additional tutoring and classroom help to the grade ten class, roughly eighty kids in four classrooms. I was hired because of my science background, although, I'm expected to be able to teach anything from Math through the Humanities. It has been fairly odd to be hired and then promptly have three months off, but hey, works for me.

Without boring you to death with details, let me tell you a bit about High Tech High: IT IS ABSOLUTELY AWESOME. (For a high school.)

High Tech was started by a group of exceedingly successful business people who wanted to create individuals qualified to Think and Problem Solve after they left high school, High Tech was their solution to home grow their own talent. It is a student initiated project based learning environment that emphasizes adult world connection, personalization, and a common intellectual mission. In the spirit of High Tech, those words can best be described by examples:

• Individuals from the grade twelve glass are currently in Tanzania to implement a Bush Meat awareness program that they developed over the year with their biotechnology instructor Jay Vavra. Bush Meat is often the result of illegal poaching of endangered animals and a major threat to the continued existence of many species.
  

• Over at High Tech Media, for their humanities class they each chose a theme under the topic of Invisibility and constructed a media piece to be displayed in the San Diego Museum of Contemporary Art.

• The grade eleven chemistry class was sent out to get their diving certificates to bring home the idea of Gas Laws.

• The grade ten Humanities class I sat in on during the interview process was assigned homework. Over the week they had to watch three hours of news television and document the following: How long each news item was, what it was about, what proportion of the news dealt with humanitarian issues versus crime, what proportion was video, photography or audio and the nature of the footage, what words were used repeatedly, and what type of music and resulting emotional feel accompanied the newscasters.
  

• Each student (and teacher) creates an online portfolio of their work providing the opportunity to develop web and other multimedia skills. I randomly picked a project on one of these portfolios, you can view it here. The subject matter is physical and chemical torture so consider yourself warned.

• Here is information on their robotics team, The Holy Cows. Their robot for the 2007 and 2008 years were Daisy and Daisy II respectively. How could I not mention them?
  

And I could go on and on.  Students are accepted  by lottery per capita from every zip code in the San Diego area creating an ethnically diverse student body of all learning abilities. The task set to the teachers is to guide each student through their chosen projects to achieve the highest level of quality they are capable of. No small challenge.

High Tech also has its own graduate and teacher credentialing programs. If this year goes well, I may apply.
 

I went swimsuit shopping today. It was a little painful. I'm now of the opinion that all posters in swimsuit shops should be of average people with cellulite, rolls, a few zits, wrinkles, you know - thirty three year old reality, not fifteen year old reality. Think how many more swimsuits would be sold! Seriously! In fact, When I'm finished this novel I'm going to open a swimsuit boutique. The lighting will be exclusively candlelight, all mirrors will be angled to make you look at least ten pounds slimmer or ten pounds fatter, whichever you happen to desire, AND be soft focus. I'm sure we can get soft focus mirrors, think of how many blemishes and creases will be eased and ignored. Millions! All the posters will feature eighty year olds in string bikinis with body positive  slogans such as:

"Outside show is a poor substitute for inner worth." ~Aesop

and

"There is more wisdom in your body than in your deepest philosophies." ~Friedrich Nietzche

Don't even think about stealing this idea, I've already trademarked the shop name: The Inner Bikini.

I can taste the bank account already.