We're finally getting some rain!

We also got this:

What? Where?

Oh, you mean this?

And I'd do it again!

We should have named him YOLO.*

(*note for my parents: this is internet for You Only Live Once)

We went to watch whales, but instead met an otter

I don't know if you heard that there has been an unusually large number of whales sticking around Monterey Bay long past their usual season there, due to a huge run of anchovies. So we thought we'd trek down there for a day in hopes of getting in on the action.

Then something unexpected and wonderful happened.

We got a phone call from someone who had no idea we were headed toward Monterey who had, as it happened, just been in the area the week before and had, as it happened, been told by a local that a wild sea otter, but one habituated to humans, was just hanging out at a local dock where people could stop by. As it happened, this dock was 20 minutes away from where we were. We practically swerved off the road, in hopes the otter was still hanging around the dock, and in hopes we could reach the dock before dark.

It was, and we did. And it was amazing.

The otter was perfectly happy and healthy (well, at least as far as we could tell), and as you could see, didn't seem at all perturbed to have people standing around looking at it.

Or taking its picture. Or even...

...stroking its fur, and I know, I know, don't touch a wild animal, but I can't say I regret it. It was amazing. It kind of rolled over and did the "scratch right there" thing that the dogs do. My hand was rather gray afterwards, but boy was it incredible to touch that fur.

Did you know that sea otters have the densest fur of any animal? On some parts of their body, it has 1 million hairs per square inch. 

I can also tell you now from first-hand experience that they have the cutest ears and strangely small front paws that look a little like catchers' mitts, and that when they flex their toes, their back webbed feet are disproportionately large. 

The next day, as it happened, the whale watch was cancelled due to rough weather, so we went back to visit the sea otter who was enjoying a healthy breakfast. I can also tell you now from first-hand experience that sea otters are noisy eaters. Well, see for yourself.

Santa Meltdown!

A friend of mine always posts the best family updates on Facebook. She gave me permission to reveal the following touching family vignette.

It's the most wonderful time of the year. Isn't it?

Family update part 2

So. We went to Hawaii with all sorts of plans of what we would do, many of which we did not do, preferring instead to lounge about and watch Top Chef.

One of the things we planned to do but did not do was go on a horseback ride into the Waipio Valley. We had made our reservations, gotten ourselves up, driven through the rain to the valley, took a look at the fog filling the valley and decided...maybe another time.

Instead, we went to a Horse Expo in Waimea. Not that we know anything about horses, but heck. It was to support the Humane Society, plus...horses.

It was still raining, so we soon tired of standing outside looking at horses. I suggested we go inside and look at the vendors. So all that follows is all my fault.

At the Hawaii Quarter Horse Association booth was a binder. I opened the binder and saw pictures of Australian Shepherd puppies "available August 25."

It wouldn't do any harm to call the breeder, would it? Of course not.

It wouldn't do any harm to see the puppies, surely? Oh surely not.

After all, we're never going to actually get a puppy from Hawaii? Well, who would?

Apparently, the answer to that is: we would. We're the only people who go on vacation in Hawaii, get two T-shirts...and a puppy.

And there he is: Sam Parker, named for the Parker Ranch where we saw the photos. He comes home next week.

Family update part 1

I wanted to bring regular readers up to speed on some comings and goings around here. Starting with the goings.

On August 1, we took our older fellow, Andy, in for what we thought would be a quick surgical procedure to remove a lipoma from his hindquarters.

Five hours and four vets later, we made the decision to end his life.

That was no lipoma. The cancer that had been a small, innocuous tumor the week before had quadrupled in size. Back and forth we went, getting a chest X-ray to see if there was something in the lungs (no); aspirating the tumor to see if it was a malignant cancer (yes).

Andy was a trooper through it all. He hadn't had any food since we'd thought he would be in surgery. So a few short minutes before he died, we fed him chicken from the rest of our sandwich wraps. Then the lettuce. As we wrapped up the rest to throw it away, he gave us a look as if to say, "Really? You think the tortilla is going to kill me?" So we gave him the tortilla too. Then he dug through the trash to see what else we might have thrown away. Andy to the end.

He died very peacefully, with us wondering if we'd done the right thing. It was really, really tough. We felt like we'd been hit repeatedly by large sticks at the end of the day.

Yesterday, we got a condolence card from the vet's office. The first vet who had seen him that day, who had lifted his tail, taken one look at the tumor, and said, "Oh my God," wrote, "You made the right choice about Andy." It was a wonderful gift.

I still miss him, though.

On Mauna Kea

One of the highlights of our trip to the Big Island of Hawaii was going to the top of Mauna Kea. That was no small task. First we had to meet a van at a crossroads outside Waimea. Then we had to drive about an hour through mist and clouds to the Mauna Kea visitors center, where we got our parkas because it's cold up there, you know. Then we had to take the van up bone-rattling unpaved roads for another hour to 13,000 feet. But it was worth it.

We got to the summit just before sundown. Our guides gave us some information on each of the internationally-run observatories. And how they got all that stuff up there I do not know -- especially the all-important lenses and mirrors that make it possible to see objects in space. But there they are.

We also got to see the Gemini observatory open!
Doesn't this look Cloud City from Star Wars?

This is the shadow of the mountain on the clouds, I think.

And then, coming down the mountain in the dark (which was scary), we stopped again near the visitors' center where our guides set up a couple of much smaller, but still impressive, telescopes. With laser pointers, they showed us some of the constellations, and with the telescope, we got to see the rings of Saturn, the Lagoon Nebula (I think it was the Lagoon Nebula), the Butterfly Cluster (a cluster of young stars), and the Andromeda Galaxy, which is 2.5 million light years away.

Can you say perspective? I mean, really, who needs the Total Perspective Vortex? Mauna Kea will do.

The thing is, though, what I got from that is not just how insignificant I am in the grand scheme of things, but how unnecessary it is to curry favor with supposedly important and powerful people because of how insignificant they are in the grand scheme of things. And how important it is to spend time with those you love because, really, time is fleeting and life is very, very short.

Back from vacation

Have you been wondering where your favorite obit-obsessed blogger has been the past couple of weeks? Well, here's a clue:

Yes, you guessed it: We've been to Hawaii!

Oh, you didn't guess that? Well, we were in Waimea on the Big Island, which is cowboy country, and I will have a tale to tell. But that will be in a couple of posts. This is just to say I'm back and catching up. More shortly.

Various & Sundry: from Hazardous Waste to Couture

So this morning I done did that fabulous thing that I do from time to time: I took all the old batteries and light bulbs and medicine and paint to the Household Hazardous Waste Disposal Center. I drove up and a man in a hazmat suit made me sign a form and then took the stuff away.

I write this in case you were not aware of the Household Hazardous Waste program in your community. Here's the link for the programs in the greater SF Bay Area, if you live in these parts. But do Google for what to do in your area. It feels good to be rid of that stuff.

Of course today I've also been following the news out of San Francisco after the Boeing 777 crashed at SFO. Listening to this recording of the Air Traffic Controllers before and after the crash is really impressive. They don't sound panicked, but boy does the pace of the directions pick up. And the pitch of the voice is a step higher. Come to think of it, maybe they do sound panicked. But they handle it magnificently. My prayers continue for all those affected.

For any native New Yorkers confused about what this means, this is like a plane crash in Queens, as is demonstrated by the handy map below:

The San Francisco Bay for New Yorkers infographic

This raised a question:

But where's Staten Island? RT “@neatorama: The San Francisco Bay for New Yorkers pic.twitter.com/7RgkXmfuDX”
— San Francisco (@sanfranmag) July 5, 2013

And an answer:

@sanfranmag @neatorama Staten Island is Alameda.
— Wanda (@itsWanda) July 5, 2013

So now you know.

There's a new stage production of Much Ado About Nothing I would love to see, with James Earl Jones and Vanessa Redgrave as Benedick and Beatrice. Wouldn't that be something? It's at the Old Vic this September-November, so I'd say my chances are slim to nil, but it's wonderful to contemplate.

I loved this story about June Coleridge, a Bletchley Park codebreaker who just celebrated her 90th birthday.

[She] joined up aged 18 in 1940/1. She lived with an uncle who was building an aerodrome and learnt to fly during that time.

She said, however, that the work itself on the code breaking could be boring and her social life was limited.

She was also sent to Columbo in Sri Lanka as part of her intelligence work.

David Coleridge, one of June's three children, said: "I'm very proud of what she did there at Bletchley. Nobody knew until the later 1970s that anything had happened there, of course."

Yes, of course. Well, I'm glad they know now.

I'm still thinking about this comic Fat is Not a Feeling. Here's one panel of the larger piece:

I think there's more to be uncovered, here, but certainly this has got me cogitating.

Continuing in the "Life is complicated" department, this obit for Rena Price was actually a very difficult read. "Catalyst for the Watts Riot" is the subhead, which is...I don't know what it is, actually. Shorthand, I guess. Reading it, it's like one of those stories where you see the jar of explosive liquid about to tip over and you want to shout "Nooooo!" as the camera goes into slow motion and it's just too late. Is it the fault of the person who knocks over the jar? Or did it build up to that moment? Or was it inevitable? But that's how I read it. It's a history lesson I don't think we've learned. At all.

But let's end with something lovely, shall we? Like this Georges Hobeika Fall 2013 Couture Collection. Who is Georges Hobeika? I have no idea. But the dresses are sure pretty.

Enjoy the rest of your holiday weekend.

The Totally! Epic! Alameda Fourth of July Parade!

Yesterday, I went to Alameda, my home town, to partake in the annual tradition: a completely homegrown and yet over-the-top Fourth of July Parade. People line the streets from Park Street, the main mercantile area, down Otis Drive, making a sharp right onto Grand Avenue and then jogging down Encinal to Central Avenue, and on to Webster Street.

Which doesn't mean anything to you if you're not from Alameda. But the thing about Alameda is that the first question an Alamedan asks you if you live in Alameda is "What street do you live on?" That question contains multitudes -- including whether you live along the parade route or not. And if you live anywhere along the route, you should plan to be hosting a big get-together. For a number of years, I went to the annual Foote family pig roast, all part of the 4th of July festivities.

I went with my parents who still live in town (on Bay Farm, since you ask) and we snagged some good and relatively shady spots on Otis Drive, right across from the park. We got there plenty early and entertained ourselves in a thoroughly disreputable manner.

Sudoku! and a book! Tch.

There's a 5K race for charity along the route before the parade starts, although "race" is a relative term. The last of the racers kind of ambled along, passing the place where my parents and I were sitting mere minutes before the first color guard and Army Pipe and Drum band kicked things off.

Oh, but I should mention the tract!

Between the racers and the parade, a man came by and handed us a tract with the words, "Don't litter." And here's what it looked like:

If you must...

Would you be astonished to learn that the question he wished to ask -- well, actually, that the tract wished to ask as the man who had told us not to litter had already gone on to tell other people not to litter -- is "Has anyone ever taken a Bible and shown you how you can know for sure that you are going to heaven?"

Uh boy.

I noticed that there was not one mention of love throughout this tract. Not once. Lots about what miserable sinners we all are and how grateful we should be that Jesus died for us, being such miserable sinners and all. But no love at all. What an appalling waste. I may not have littered, but it was still trash. (Though it gets 5 stars on ChristianBook.com, in case you're interested in getting some for yourself.)

Anyway, I got all worked up about that, so it's a good thing the parade came along.

The wonderful thing about the Alameda parade is that it is a fabulous mix of homegrown talent, commercial enterprise, and civic responsibility. You start with the mayor and the council members and the U.S. Congressperson, and the local utilities, and the local hospital, and...you get the idea. They all ride in the backs of fancy convertible cars, waving and saying, "Happy 4th of July!" as people mostly stare at them, which must be tiring.

But then you get things like the local school bands. I was mighty pleased to see my middle school Alma Mater, the Lincoln Lions, marching and playing very well, if you ask me.

They came in 1st in the "Bands, Marching" category. That's as opposed to "School Band -Transported."
Because some of them travel the parade route on a flatbed. Lincoln, though, is HARD-CORE! Go Lions!

But it must be noted that after a while the parade become a bit of a walking (or floating) infomercial for pretty much every business in Alameda. I highly approve of Ole's Waffle Shop, who really did make an effort with their float:

I took this too late for you to see clearly the folks sitting at the coffee shop counter on the flatbed.

But I thought the company who included "Ask us about our special promotional offer!" on their sign might have been a bit tasteless. And I'm not sure the local tow truck company needed to have four trucks in the parade. Unless they were planning to work as well.

It's a great opportunity for the local community organizations, too. As the floats go by, people hand out flyers and information (and toss candy). I don't know how much interest they get from being in the parade, but it sure can't hurt.

I didn't take this photo. It gives you a good picture of Park Street!

After a while, all the floats just float on by together and you take the opportunity to say hello to friends you haven't seen for a while, catch up on what's happening, find out who's been reading your blog (hi, Mark!), promise to take a mimosa since people keep insisting, and generally enjoy the vibe.

And then, after the tow trucks have gone by and you realize you have had your fill of Alameda's civic life, you wander on back to your car and head on home, wondering how many participants there are going to be next year. And will it top the 176 groups and bands and businesses and civic leaders that participated this year.

I guess someday I'll tire of it, but it has a lot of charm. I'm glad to celebrate the 4th in this way. I hope you had a grand celebration as well.

Garden update, June 2013

I meant to get to the update this weekend but, well, I just didn't. But since I have a couple of free minutes now, I have a little blooming action to share.

Let's start with Wolverine the hydrangeas.

I'd find them terrifying if they weren't so spectacular. They are seemingly impervious to pruning.

Also in the front yard, I finally got the tomatoes planted.

There's a few beans in there, but they're not sprouting like I'd want, possibly due to the shade of the boysenberry vines behind them.

Also in the front yard, the roses are still going strong.

As are the sweet peas...

...which are mixed in with some rather fluffy-headed sunflowers, not your usual giants.

And the dahlias are starting to make their dramatic appearance, both in the front yard:

And especially in the back:

This one is known as "Kapow."

That bed is coming along nicely, with zinnias about ready to pop, and this lovely thing, which is called Minoan Lace.

I wish I could say the same for the side beds, which are just a sad mess this year. I really haven't done anything with them.

Over on the other bed, the gardenias and the marmalade bush seem to be...Harper! Get out of there!

So things are slow this year. But even so, the flowers we have allow for things like this:

Which make me quite happy.

Pilgrimate to the shrine of The Martyrs of Uganda

Today is the feast of the Martyrs of Uganda, and five years ago today, since I was there, I made a pilgrimage to the shrine at Namugongo. Here's the post I wrote in 2008 on the blog I kept during my short time in Uganda.

A friend of mine who is preaching at the midweek service at his church this week noted that today, June 3rd, is the feast of the Martyrs of Uganda. He asked if this was an important observance here.

The answer to that is that it's a friggin' HUGE observance in these parts. It's a national holiday, for one thing. Banks, post offices, government offices are all closed. MCDT is closed. Walking around the neighborhood, more of the small shops around here are closed today than were closed on Good Friday.

Here's the deal, very briefly: in the late 1800's, various pages and members of the Bugandan court became Christian converts, both RC and Anglican. In 1886, the Bugandan king, or kabaka, Mwanga II, told them to give it up. (N.B. There is also the issue of the kabaka forcing young men to have sex with him, which complicates the issue of homosexuality in Uganda (but also seems to put paid to the argument that the Europeans brought homosexuality with them).) When they refused, these converts were tortured and killed in various nasty ways, leading up to a group of some 30 Christians being wrapped in straw mats and then burned at Namugongo, about 10 miles from the city center.

The observance is bigger than just Uganda, too. This event is credited as the beginning of indigenous Christianity in Africa. I read in the paper last week about a group of pilgrims from Kenya who were walking 600 km to the shrine in Namugongo. People come here from all over the continent.

Various miracles were attributed to the RC martyrs, leading to their canonization in the 1960's. I'm not sure when the Anglican martyrs were canonized; the whole process is different. But the general sense I get is that these martyrs are important, not only for their great faith and sacrifice, but because they're "some of our own." I'm not sure how many other great holy sites and pilgrimages are in sub-Saharan Africa, but this certainly is one of them.

I decided to pay my respects and make a short pilgrimage as well. Below is a picture of the shrine that I lifted from the web.



Only imagine it so thronged with people there were parts where you couldn't move. One man walking near me told me that 3 MILLION people come to the shrine. I don't know about that, but I have no doubt tens of thousands of people were there. (Note: I've added pictures I took when I was there at the bottom of this post.)

I took a boda boda to the base of the hill leading to Namugongo and walked over a couple of hills, following a trickle of people headed that way. Once I reached the area of Namugongo, the people filled the streets, walking on the left side, like traffic, with no cars allowed through. On either side of the street were vendors of all descriptions. Lots of them were selling paper visors with a depiction of the martyrs surrounded by flames on it. There were also some pretty graphic T-shirts with the slogan, "Martyrs of Uganda, pray for us." There was also lots of other stuff: clothing, umbrellas, cooked grasshoppers--you name it.

But as far as the religious part of it went, this seemed to be a Roman Catholic celebration. Even though the martyrs were both RC and Anglican, I didn't see any Anglican presence there at all.

I went to the shrine and walked all around the grounds. The shrine itself wasn't open, apparently, but there was a service going on from an open-sided grass thatched hut by a large rectangular pool. I couldn't quite tell because I could never see it, but my guess is that's where the service was coming from. Again, thousands upon thousands of people sitting on the grass or the muddy ground to listen to it from loudspeakers all over the grounds. I heard some of the prayers of the people, offered in all different languages: Swahili, Luganda, Luo, etc. The grounds of the shrine, too, were packed with vendors. Many were selling religious tracts, rosaries, and things of that nature. But I also saw some Manchester and Arsenal underwear for sale. Behind the toilets, there were people cooking matooke, beans, and other food.

I also saw one child with a badly burned face, sucking his thumb as a vendor tried to sell him and his mother something.

There was something about it all that was incredibly moving. I was of course reminded of Jesus' cleansing of the temple, but I also got at least an inkling of what that might have looked like, of how important it was for people to come to that one location, of what a huge windfall it was for the vendors as well as profitable for the temple.

One boy tried to sell me a certificate, signed by the bishop (I think), that certified that I had made a pilgrimage to the shrine of the Martyrs of Uganda. I was very tempted, too. But I don't actually need a certificate. I've still been there. And it was mighty powerful, too.

These pictures give you a sense of the going to and from Namugongo, as the crowds got bigger and then dissipated again.

Mom's Tattoo

Well, temporary tattoo, anyway. I got her this as a Mother's Day present (thank you, Etsy!), and though it arrived too late, it is never too late to get an accordion tattoo. As they say in the tattoo world, No Regert.

You look fabulous, Mom.