The Eagles Are Coming, The Eagles Are Coming!

O.K., technically they're already here, and have been for a few years, but I didn't know we could watch them live.

After a few years of watching the Decorah Eagles in their home in Iowa (apparently deserted right now), I was delighted to find out we have our own eagle cams right here in town.

Ozzie and Harriet have been living down here for six or seven years and recently moved across the street. They are currently caring for two eggs which comments from the folks running the site seem to indicate could hatch at any time.

There are, officially, an even dozen eagle nests within the city limits. Fledging season runs through May 15, 2013 and the city has posted notice that any and all building permits in areas close to nests have been suspended until the little ones are out of the nest. This is in addition to the restrictions regarding how close construction can come to a nesting site in the first place.

Visits, Here and There

The niece and her mom stopped by on Saturday. We intended to go mini-golfing but her mom begged off saying she had errands to run and computer stuff to do, my brother warned that he had limited time before having to go off to work, and Caitlin wanted everyone to be there so we put the expedition off until they return to town from their detour to Georgia to spend Christmas with aunts and uncles from the other side of the family. (Mom ended up hanging around and visiting all afternoon anyway. We probably could've managed two rounds.) And, maybe by then it will be a bit warmer, too.

As a result, my trip to St. Petersburg to see vacationing friends from Salt Lake was put off until Sunday. I managed to find them with only one slight detour which brought me to the tip of such a delightful barrier island that I took them on the same detour later. We ate at a diner that (unbeknownst to us beforehand) was having their regular half-off-your-bill-if-you-wear-your-pajamas-to-brunch Sunday. You could tell the regulars from the visitors by who was (over)dressed for the occasion (although most of them were wearing something under their pj's to keep warm on the trip to the restaurant).

After croissants, omelettes and French toast we ended up in downtown St. Pete along gallery row where we examined blown glass made by Chihuly and his disciples, a number of offbeat restaurants, more glass and furnishings galleries, and a couple of really funky boutiques. The sun came out and the day warmed up nicely. I found a handmade present for my sister-in-law at a tiny Moroccan place.

We were saying goodbye as I prepared to return home when we were interrupted by a raucous chorus of a half dozen green parrots on the wires directly overhead. another flock of a dozen or more circled a few yards behind them. It was a perfect send-off.

Friends and Family

This should be a busy and fun week. Not only did the world not end on this solstice, some of it is coming here to visit.

My brave and beautiful niece (the one who just had her third open heart surgery a couple of months ago) and her mom are in town from Connecticut for a few days. They came down right after Caitlin played her harp in a Christmas concert. They're staying at a house owned by her mom's sister's family. When she told me, back in November, she would be visiting she asked if we could go play miniature golf. We'll do a couple of rounds this weekend despite the cold front that just blew in. She also wanted to go swimming but I'm not so confident that's going to happen.

Following right behind said cold front are a couple of friends, now married, from back in Utah. They're going to be up in the Tampa/St. Pete/Orlando area starting this weekend assuming their flights take the southern route and don't get entangled in the winter storm disrupting the rest of the country. We'll be able to catch up on all the stuff our other friends aren't willing to post on Facebook.

I'm making cookies for everyone. Oatmeal raisin now, chocolate chip later.

And, welcome back, Sol Invictus!

How To Hypnotize A Cat

I've hypnotized a few people before, one on purpose, two by accident (it's easier to do than you'd think, especially if you go into a trance state yourself while talking to them). After the first accidental one, a close friend who is a licensed hypnotherapist explained to me what I'd done and put me under to show me how it felt. That was a long time ago.

Never tried it on an animal, though.

Bartleby has trained my brother and me well enough that she is now comfortable coming into the house just to eat* knowing we will jump to let her out again. In fact, although she passes most of the day sunning herself in the driveway where she refuses to move out of the way of the cars, she will, as long as we leave all the doors open so she can see her escape route (something we can do now the weather has cooled off a bit), spend a little time inside with us being adored (as is her due).

Yesterday, I found out, while expressing proper adoration, two fingers repetitively stroking her chest between her front paws will make her go--you should forgive the expression--"catatonic." She rolled three-quarters on her back, closed her eyes and froze . . . except for her front right paw which slowly and rhythmically flexed extending her little pink kitty fingers (but not the claws) as far as they could go and then relaxing again. Over and over.

I got tired of it long before Bartleby did. When I stopped so did the flexing, but it still took a couple of minutes before she came around at which point she suddenly jumped up, looked around and ran out the door.

The experience wasn't traumatic enough to stop her from coming back in for supper a couple hours later.

*We tried putting her food out but something else kept getting into her dish and she's far to much of a wuss to defend her own property.

Decking the Halls

The Christmas tree is now up and (mostly) decorated. It would have been up sooner, i.e., right after Thanksgiving per my brother's borderline obsession with Christmas, except it turns out he'd put his back out a while ago making it painful for him to stretch or bend. Of course, he never mentioned it until the day before yesterday, and I'm perfectly content to leave the house as it is, so now we're scrambling at the last minute.

The tree itself is at least 20 years old but surprisingly realistic. It's a 7.5 foot tall replica balsam. We think Mom & Dad spent maybe $100 for it. Assembly consists of stacking foot long sections of trunk and then attaching individual branches of decreasing length as the layers accumulate. My brother saves time by stringing the lights around each layer before adding the next one. Makes it easier to get the lights into the interior.

During construction, it even realistically shed all over the living room rug. I had to vacuum the whole area  . . . again.

My brother had to go to work after the tree was up and lit so I spent part of the evening decorating it. I went through two large boxes of mostly hand blown glass Radko and Pandora ornaments, most of which I had not seen before. I think, toward the end (and not trusting Mom's failing fine motor skills), my brother may have kept some of the more delicate ornaments out of the mix.

I have not, so far, run across any of the animated or otherwise disturbing ornaments from previous years but, then again, there's at least one more large box that hasn't even been opened yet (and possibly more still in storage).

And, neither we nor Neighbor Dan have put any lights or decorations out on our lawns, yet.

But, Hey, Free Potatoes!

I stopped by the grocery store on my way home yesterday and picked up a few things: onions, scallions, peppers, tomatoes . . . and red potatoes that were on sale. When I got home I realized the cashier had charged me the full price for the potatoes.

Now, this is not a big thing. It's happened before and I just let it go because occasionally they'll make a mistake in my favor and I figure it all balances out in the end. Besides, I'd spend more in gasoline than I'd recoup by going back to the store to fix it.

Today, however, I realized I had to go right past the store on another errand anyway, so I stopped in at the service desk. The young woman behind the counter was very pleasant, checked my receipt, and proceeded to refund the full purchase price of the potatoes. At first I thought she'd misheard me and I explained again that I had indeed bought the spuds in question and was only interested in the difference between the advertised price and the actual charge. And she explained that, yes, she understood but it was company policy: if they screw up the item is free. I was not aware of this policy.

So I got triple back what I expected (or, in my opinion, deserved) plus the potatoes.

I realize someone at corporate made an explicit, hard-nosed calculation and decided the good will and loyalty generated by this policy is worth the expense (and they're right. It works!), but I still feel kind of bad about even bringing it up with them and a little guilty now about the times I never said anything when the mistakes worked to my advantage.

Nicely played, Publix.

The Place Where I Live

A couple in this county but a few towns over recently had a safe stolen from their home. It contained $100,000 in gold and silver bars that they had just removed from a bank safe deposit box in order to buy a house. I'm thinking either first generation immigrants untrusting of banks due to experiences in the old country (although, why then use a bank's safe deposit box?), or drug dealers trying to keep income off the books (although, I can't imagine customers buying with gold and silver so somewhere along the line cash must have been paid for these bars so there's a record somewhere), or--and this seems most likely to me--idiots.

Considering all of the advertising on TV and in the paper pushing gold and silver hedges against a falling dollar, junk mail touting collectible coins and medallions and right-wing ranters extolling the virtues of hoarding hard metal for the end-times, I'm not surprised someone thought this was a good idea.
______________

On a totally unrelated note, the Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commissioners remind people that it's not just a bad idea to hunt alligators with a handgun, it's also illegal. Handguns are, apparently, perfectly legal when hunting Burmese pythons, as long as the coup de grace is administered correctly.

But do not share with bears. Or the feral hogs.

First One To Christmas Wins

How to tell the pressures of the Holiday Season are upon us:

Starting the day after Thanksgiving (maybe even Thanksgiving day, I don't know, I refuse to go out then) traffic on the roads not only spikes but speed increases and aggression rises as well.

I've been out and about, to the library mostly and a little shopping, almost every day since the feast and it was very noticeable how many more people were on the road during non-rush-hours. Side roads and residential streets aren't that bad but the main routes are packed with people going at least ten miles an hour faster than usual.

And red light runners. Drivers here in Florida know to wait when the light turns green until they can see the oncoming vehicles slowing or stopped before entering an intersection. I usually see maybe one person every other month trying to sneak through an intersection against the light. I've seen three so far since Thanksgiving.

The best was Saturday. I was approaching a huge crossroad, three lanes in each direction on both roads plus extra dedicated turn lanes both left and right for a total of 22 controlled lanes plus three additional uncontrolled right turn lanes. The signals in my left turn lanes turned yellow and a pick-up truck ahead of me in the rightmost left turn lane sped up although it was obvious he would barely make it into the intersection, with no chance of being through it, before the light turned red. At the last he second the driver suddenly realized the car in front of him had no intention of running the light. He hit his brakes hard, swerved rightward part way into the adjacent leftmost through lane, came to a dead stop inches from the rear of the car in front, pulled hard to the right and gunned it straight through the intersection which was legal because the through signals are on a different timer and were just turning yellow. I half expected to see him pull a U-turn and try a right hand turn coming from the other direction but he kept going.

(Zoom in on the Arrow for the intersection in question)

Catalog shopping is looking more and more appealing. We just received Pendery, full of bulk spices and herbs and sauces and cookbooks and other good things. I think my afternoon is set.

Government Efficiencies

Birthday time is also automobile registration renewal time so I went over to the tax collector's office this afternoon.

The county has separated routine tax payments from others that might require additional information/decision-making/judgment calls and so there is a typically governmental larger room with rows and rows of metal framed plastic chairs for people dealing with those issues and a small rope-lined area for "I'm just here to pay, no questions, no issues, thank you very much," folks, like me, all overseen by the number-issuing concierge.

I told the number-issuing concierge I was here to renew my vehicle's registration. He said, "That's it?" I said, "Yes," he printed out my number and told me to enter the rope line. By the time I reached the end of that (very short) path, the only person in front of me was finishing up with the cashier, who called my number. I handed her the registration notice and the cash (because Florida lets card companies tack on a service fee for using plastic) and she handed me my change and the license plate sticker.

I was in and out in under two minutes.

A few years ago, when I wanted to start an LLC back in Salt Lake City, I went on line to learn the process and required information (which was minimal). With that in hand, I went to the county offices there, paid the fees and had my business officially up and running in less than two hours.

When the government has a financial interest in getting you through the system it can be impressively efficient.

I just wish I knew how to apply that interest to running an election.

Strange Pocket Change

My brother discovered a small oval ceramic box Mom made for him many years ago. Inside it was a small pouch and inside the pouch was a small pile of foreign coins. I've just spent a couple hours sorting and identifying them.

Most are your standard pre-euro European change, the kinds of things tourists might bring home, with an emphasis on Spain and U.K.. South and Central America are also well represented with samples from Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Peru, Guatemala and Mexico. But . . . there's some kind of neat stuff here, too.

(Sri Lankan 2 cent piece)

For instance, there are two coins from Bulgaria, a 1974 20 stotniki from the People's Republic version, and a 1992 2 leva from the current incarnation. Ditto a 1980 1 koruna from Czechoslovkia and a 1993 10 haleru from the Czech Republic. Also a couple of 2 pfennig coins (1979 & 1992) from West Germany and a 1969 20 pfennig from East Germany.

(The oldest coin in the "collection")

(South African penny)

On the "who brought that home front," there are two 1 kyat pieces from Myanmar (both 1999), a 1933 5 piastres piece from Syria, a 1982 1 kopeck from the Soviet Union. also 2 cent and 50 cent pieces from Sri Lanka. And Vanuatu (1995 20 vatu). Nobody I know has ever been to Vanuatu.

The one I had virtually no clue on until I could track it down, however, was a small, 1 cent copper coin with the legend "ISEWULA AFRIKA" on the front. Turns out that's the name for South Africa in the Ndebele language.

So I learned something today.

The Holiday Observed

Thanksgiving is not a one-day event in this family. We crescendo. We float along on a rising tide of edible treats until The Day and then slowly drift back down to normality. Except for the actual Thanksgiving Day feast, there are no formal meals or set times. We've been at it for almost a week already.

I write this with a dish of pistachios, dried figs and dates by my side. Later, when the brie is warm enough, I will spread it on crackers, cut open the pomegranate, and use the pips as a garnish. There are cashews and other nuts and pears and crusty bread with butter or feta still awaiting our attention.

The turkey is here. Despite the fact there are only two of us this year we did not get merely a turkey breast since both of us like dark meat, neither did we get just drumsticks because where's the holiday in parts? So we have a thirteen pound bird because there is nothing smaller and steeled ourselves to the next month (at least) of turkey plates, sandwiches, soups and salads.

Although we tend to be frugal throughout the year (between the two of us we seldom spend more than $150 a month on groceries and, although my brother drives for a living, I can generally keep my gasoline purchases under $50) we do enjoy the holidays. So, for the record, yes, we are extremely thankful that we are able to enjoy this and recognize not everyone can. We have been given much.

And Random Acts of Retail

My brother complained, after the mail came yesterday, "I just threw out every catalog in my room!" by which he meant approximately three dozen or so recent arrivals (and didn't count the twenty or so still in the living room). He held another even dozen in his hand fresh from the mailbox.

I often wonder from whence the catalogers get our address. It's kind of a game trying to figure out whose mailing list we came from. Sometimes it seems pretty obvious: Wild Wings, purveyor of wildlife coffee mugs, nostalgic animal art and clothing, most likely came by way of the World Wildlife Fund or Birds and Blooms magazine, both of which have had our information for years. Likewise, we know where Wireless (NPR), Signals (PBS), Smithsonian and National Geographic catalogs all come from.

But what about Front Gate? Their publication (I hesitate to call it a mere catalog) is printed on heavy glossy paper bound in a clay-coat four-color-process cover stock more suited to a commercial real estate prospectus. Then again, projecting that kind of image is necessary when your offerings--one-off holiday decorations and full-size pre-decorated Christmas trees--are priced from the low three-figures to the mid (and upper) four-figures. Are these guys, maybe, second generation from the Grandin Road people of life-size Hallowe'en zombie fame?

And then there's Russell's For Men. Apparently, there's an A. G. Russell's with a more general demographic somewhere that has skipped over us in favor of leather wallets, leather vests, leather travel accessories and knives of various sizes, shapes and utility (including, one presumes, scraping hides preparatory to making leather). Neither my brother nor I, are particularly lacking in testosterone yet we can not determine the provenance of this one.

Thanks to FedEx overnight delivery, we have a long way to go before the catalogers stop sending in the realization that is too late for us to order.

Random Acts of Realty

My brother received a letter the other day. It was hand written--hand-printed, actually--block letters in red ink on a lined yellow notebook page. It read:

MY NAME IS (redacted to protect the identity of the idiot who sent it).

I WOULD LIKE TO

$ BUY $

YOUR HOUSE. PLEASE CALL ME

AT (###) ###-####.

                                                            SINCERELY,

                                                                                                    (redacted again for the same reason)

The house is not on the market. Nor is there any intention of putting the house on the market. The mortgage is not excessive and there is no danger of late payment or other default. We do not know the above redacted person.

It would seem the housing market in our area is once again on the upswing. How else to explain a random solicitation from someone who apparently has more cash on hand than professional skills.

The dollar signs were a nice touch, though.

Seasonal Stuff

Eleven catalogs came today, including three from various orchards offering holiday fruit and candy compilations, two geeky gift shops (I'll need to go through them more thoroughly later), a bunch of holiday home decor offerings, The Victorian Trading Company, and, best of all, The Noble Collection, containing props and memorabilia from fantasy films including, among other treasures: Harry's, Hermione's, Dumbledore's and Voldemort's wands; a time turner; a working cryptex from The DaVinci Code; Batman, Superman and Green Lantern tchotchkes; and from The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings, Gandalf's staff, full-size Sting and various incarnations of the One Ring, with and without Elvish inscription.

My list is complete.

On a completely different note: A coconut fell last week. Yay!! We peeled off the husk and split the shell. I've frozen the milk and it's now sitting on the kitchen counter drying out before we shred the meat. Macaroons here we come!

A Temporary Setback, Rapidly Repaired

My poor, brave niece went into the hospital today, again, this time because the two halves of her recently repaired heart were beating at different speeds. According to her mom, her atrium was beating 35 times faster than her ventricle. I don't understand how that's even possible.

Her mom rushed her to Yale-New Haven Hospital in New Haven where, after a short delay waiting for an operating room to become available, the doctors checked for clots and then shocked her heart back into regularity.

As of 2:00 p.m., her mom reports she is in the pediatric intensive care unit, awake and sipping juice. There were no clots. Her heart rate is a little high but not excessive or irregular.

For some reason, she claims to be sick and tired of hospitals and just wants to go back to school. She's a tough kid.

Aftermath

Turns out I was a bit premature in my optimism regarding the shortening voting lines at the library yesterday.

At 4:45 p.m. the line was back and even longer stretching out into and through the main library parking lot. It was at least three times longer than the one I'd seen going in. I spoke with a young woman who was heading back to her car after voting and she said she'd been waiting for over two hours and her line had been much shorter when she had begun her trek. We agreed the current wait must be over four hours (and the polls "close" in just over three). "Close," of course, means no one else can get in line. If you're already there--and stay there--you're good to go.

The six o'clock news had numerous reports of extra-long lines at polling places throughout the county. It turns out the number of actual voting machines assigned to each precinct is based on the number of registered voters (reasonable enough) as a per centage of total voters (O.K.) and as a result many precincts received exactly one voting machine (seriously?! WTF?). The extra-long ballot took close to a minute to feed into the machine meaning a maximum of 60-70 voters per hour throughput, until the machine malfunctioned, which some of them did more than once. In addition, the elderly and handicapped were not accommodated but were expected to stand in line with everyone else.

There are already letters to the editor in the newspaper (the very next day in a morning paper which is kind of impressive in itself) charging incompetence, which I am inclined to believe, and claiming intentional voter suppression, which doesn't make a lot of sense since this is a heavily Republican area and the election was put together by Republicans. As I said yesterday, I don't tend to make political predictions, but I think this will be remembered next cycle, and not to the advantage of those in charge.

Fortunately, our swing state was not determinative to the outcome after all, so our election was merely farce, not tragedy.

Democalypse Now!

I'm feeling much better about waiting in line for almost 3.5 hours to vote early Friday. At least it was warm and sunny.

It was with some trepidation that I went to the library today knowing it is a polling place and the parking lot would be crowded. I waited to go until after a very heavy downpour had subsided to a drizzle and found the back third of the overflow lot (which had been retopped and striped just before the weekend) was open. There were over 100 drenched and soggy people outside huddled in line under the dripping eaves waiting to get inside the side door to the community room where the polls had been set up. The storm also caused the temperature to drop a good ten degrees.

During early voting, all ballots were cast at the half dozen county offices and long lines were kind of expected but now, on election day, when a third of the electorate has already voted early and there are 125 separate voting precincts in this county alone, still: the lines.

I blame, in part, the enormous ballot, including eleven proposed state constitutional amendments (the twelfth was dropped for some legal technicality) presented in their entirety in English and Spanish. Also, the fact we are a swing state (although not, this year, the swing state) makes people believe their vote might make a difference and helps to raise turnout.

By mid-afternoon, the line outdoors was gone although the community room was still full.

I don't normally make political predictions but, based on what I'm hearing and reading about people's frustrating experiences this time around, I think next time folks will remember how the governor limited voting hours and the legislature fobbed off their responsibilities to create a monster ballot. Being an incumbent might not be pleasant.

Good Citizens

I voted early late yesterday. It was an interesting exercise in civic virtue and endurance.

5:10 p.m. -- Found a parking spot in the nearly full lot across the street from the county office and got in line. I'm less than fifteen feet from the entrance. Unfortunately the line goes the other way, down the length of the building into another parking lot, disappears around the corner and comes back again alongside the building to the door. Some female DJ has set up just past the door and is urging people to get excited, clap, cheer and dance in line while she alternates playing patriotic songs ("Anchors Aweigh," "The Ballad of the Green Berets," "The Caissons Go Rolling Along") and Village People hits (unless "In the Navy" is considered a patriotic song now). At least, in this segment of the line, we are slowly shuffling away from her.

5:25 p.m. -- The sun is shining, the air is warm, the sky is cloudless and deep with sixteen buzzards lazily circling together high overhead sharing a single thermal. The short Cuban woman immediately in front of me is reading her Nook. We've made some progress and the line has filled in behind us but we can still hear the music. The cameraman from the local Fox station has panned the crowd a couple of times and is leaving.

5:35 p.m. -- The two rather large young women behind me are on a cell phone: "We're going to the rodeo tomorrow night. Ask him if he wants us to take his truck there and sell it. There'll be, like, a thousand cowboys there."

5:50 p.m. -- We have reached the first turn. The line is revealed to be sort of golf club-shaped and we have traveled down the length of the shaft and are just starting across the base of the club head. The flock of buzzards has drifted off to the east.

6:05 p.m. -- I have a better view of the crowd as it loops around. There are people of European, African and Asian extraction, some in mixed groups, and a few unidentifiables. There are singles, couples and families, older folks with large bellies and tractor caps, young people with very short and very long hair, a couple of shirt and tie types and -- this being Florida -- a whole slew of Bermuda shorts and polo shirts.

6:10 p.m. -- Starting the second hour. The whole bottom-of-the-club-head part of the line, being in the parking lot, has to shuffle around like an immobile conga line to allow two cars that we have surrounded to leave. We imitate a rough sine wave. Both vehicles escape. No one loses their place. The Cuban woman looks up from her story to tell me how impressed she is that we Americans are actually willing to stand in line this long for anything.

6:15 p.m. -- We have reached the second turn and are now moving toward the top of the club head. People who are part of groups are temporarily dropping out of line to go sit on the curb. One gentleman is leaning against a Dumpster and the family a couple of people in front of the Cuban woman who is back to reading her Nook have split up with the mom taking the baby and carriage off somewhere.

6:40 p.m. -- The third turn. We are now starting across the top of the club head. We are also, at last, on the sidewalk that circles the building. Which means, we are also, finally, headed toward the entrance to the polling station. It gives us a sense of accomplishment. The sun goes down. Although the sky stays yellow and pale blue, without clouds the air cools quickly. Somewhere behind the rodeo girls, I overhear one couple talking to another about how they have friends in Illinois. I hear the words "their senator" and "well, they ought to know, then" but cannot tell either from context or tone of voice whether they are praising Obama or damning him.

6:55 p.m. -- The building exterior lights come on. Although the sky overhead has turned indigo, toward the horizon it's still pinkish orange creating intricately delicate silhouettes from the palm trees. The rodeo girls are talking with a young Nicaraguan woman who is voting for the first time. From what I can gather one of their horses (it's hard to tell from the names. They could just as easily be discussing a ranch hand) got in with the goats and scared them.

7:00 p.m. -- The final turn. From here its a straight line to the front door down a long narrow pink stucco arched arcade dripping with giant spider webs spun around and under the recessed ceiling lights (which is really pretty smart when you think about it because that's exactly where the moths and other night insects are going to go) and which the numerous, and very large, spiders are busy repairing and expanding. We remark on something we have all noticed: Although we see people being let in in groups, we have not seen anyone leaving. I suggest they're storing voters in a large underground vault, but one of the rodeo girls insists that if you don't vote for Obama, they just kill you right there. Can't tell if she approves or not.

7:10 p.m. -- Start of the third hour.  The reactions of the people when they turn that corner and recognize the final gauntlet they must negotiate is amusing. Several, including the larger of the rodeo girls, decide to step out of the arcade and move along on the lawn parallel to the line. The line itself develops knots and gaps as people bunch up between light fixtures and avoid standing directly under webs. The spiders do have a tendency to jiggle around and occasionally drop a foot or two before catching themselves.

7:20 p.m. -- The larger rodeo girl rejoins us and the Nicaraguan amuses herself by playing "what's that on your shoulder?" with her. The Nicaraguan then begins to imagine that creepy things are on her but I let her know it's just karma crawling up her back.

7:25 p.m. -- There is a stifled scream behind us and we turn to see an open circle of six people staring at their feet. Apparently, a spider lost its footing, but they all bravely stomped it.

7:35 p.m. -- We're at the door! It is being guarded by a sweet little old lady of iron will and steel determination. She asks how many in our group (which we have sort of become over the course of the evening) and when one of the rodeo girls pipes up, "Table for eight, please," shuts the door in front of the Cuban woman.

7:40 p.m. -- We actually see some people leave and the gatekeeper lady lets the Cuban and me in. We are greeted by another line, this one to present IDs. There are three stations but only one in use. As we stand there a second station opens up. The rodeo girls and the Nicaraguan are let in. I say, "That's what you get for being a smart-ass," to the one who requested the table and she grins.

7:45 p.m. -- The Cuban lady and I present ID. Basically, you swipe your driver's license (or other acceptable form of ID including credit or debit card(!?! Seriously, WTF? debit or credit card?) Mine is fine but it turns out the Cuban lady has requested and received an absentee ballot and does not have it with her or proof that she did not already use it and so, after two hours and 35 minutes in line, she is taken away.

7:50 p.m. -- I sign electronically that I am not committing voter fraud and am sent to the next table where my ballot is printed out. I am told that, in this county, thanks to various local offices, referenda and initiatives, there are 32 possible different ballots. Every voter gets a custom one based on their precinct. mine is four large sheets, printed on both sides.

7:55 p.m. -- I manage to find the only sit down voting station in the building.

8:10 p.m. -- Beginning hour four.

8:15 p.m. -- I finish marking my ballot, put it in the protective "privacy jacket" and take it to the vote counting machine where, under the very-careful-not-to-notice-how-you-voted scrutiny of a poll worker I, after verifying my identity, feed the sheets into the machine. I give them back their pen and "privacy jacket" and they give me an "I Voted" sticker.

8:20 p.m. -- The rodeo girls and the Nicaraguan are finishing up the same time I am. We're all veterans now so we just nod and smile a little and say "goodbye." The parking lot is almost empty when I retrieve my car.

I find out later the Cuban lady had to cast a provisional ballot until the County Clerk's office can track down her absentee ballot. She spent all that time in line Friday because she works two jobs both Saturday, the last day of early voting, and Tuesday, election day. I, of course, have no idea who she voted for but with that kind of dedication this country's in good shape.

Eat Your Heart Out, Hammacher Schlemmer

The catalogs have been coming in pretty steadily for the past few weeks now and the floodgates will open soon but we may have received the winner of the season already.

In along with Grandin Road (the purveyor of those new Hallowe'en ghoulies we had out this year), Stauer (watches and jewelry), Smithsonian, National Wildlife Fund and a couple of others was Museum Tour, a new one to me.

Most of what Museum Tour offers is standard science education stuff for kids of various ages: puzzles, games, experiments, microscopes, telescopes, chemistry sets and selected intellectually stimulating toys.

And then there's the life-size Tyrannosaurus rex skeleton.

Thirteen feet tall, 39 feet long and weighing 661 pounds, this is a museum-quality cast resin model for only $249,000! Delivery and expert installation extra.

From the web site:

Educator Comments:Not everyone has room for a full sized T-Rex in their home, but if you do, you can be assured that the quality of this model is excellent and will make a perfect display. Museums around the world have installed this large dinosaur to the amazement of their audiences. The Geoword lab is meticulous about details. Even if you could find one, a "fossilized" T-Rex would be extremely heavy and cost many millions of dollars to display. This detailed representation is the way to go. It will inspire children and adults who are interested in the story of evolution.

        If you are interested in purchasing this model for yourself or a local museum, please call during business hours for details about shipping and installation. As you might imagine, displaying this large creature is not easy. An experienced team will be sent to your site to install the T-Rex to meet your specifications.

Of course, if that's a little beyond your budget (and in these times we would certainly understand) you can purchase just the skull (as seen in the rear of the photos) for a mere $24,900.

The web site helpfully lists the item status as "In Stock."

Don't delay! Order yours today!

All Things Considered, That Went Well

We survived the looting and pillaging mini-hordes. It took ten bags of candy to do it, but we didn't run out and actually have a few pieces left over for ourselves, like we need them.

Earlier in the day I came home to find my brother upset because he'd decided to frost the skeleton cakes with a glaze, apparently not realizing just how runny that would be (why not I don't know, it's not like he's never seen a glazed cake before), and ended up with two skulls that looked as if they'd been used for candle holders with wax dripping all down the sides. I liked the effect, but he didn't.

Later, he tried making a "fire" pit using colored streamers blown upward by a fan but, after a couple of hours constructing the thing, the fan he had wasn't strong enough to move anything so he went out but couldn't find a single window fan at WalMart (!) and finally purchased one at Lowe's which didn't have enough power, either, so the whole project went south. He took it surprisingly well, which is not his normal M.O.

The actual bribing of the monsters started a little late and slow this year but picked up after 8 p.m. and eventually ran long. I especially enjoyed the tiny three-year-old Batman and also the slightly older Batman who, being a little unclear on the concept, upon hearing us yell, "Hey, there's Batman!" lifted his mask and insisted, "No! It's me!" Never seen him before. We had a pair of moving sound-activated ghosts suspended from wires that crisscrossed the driveway moaning and cackling. Some kids were freaked out but the ones I liked were the kids who were so fascinated that they forget all about asking for treats and just stared transfixed as the ghosts floated by overhead.

The police stopped by at the height of the festivities and we were worried either the cars parked up and down the median strip of the main road were causing a hazard or the neighborhood curmudgeon had complained. (He's filed formal complaints at one time or another against every single property owner adjacent to him and a couple of others that aren't.) It turned out to be just a routine patrol and we all carried on.

The weirdest thing I saw all night though were pick-up trucks with flatbed trailers (the kind lawn care companies use to transport mowers) kitted out with chairs and even a porch swing all filled with kids cruising  through looking for likely neighborhoods to loot. Apparently, those trailers are a thing down here.

From Each According to His Abilities . . .

My brother demonstrated, again, why I end up doing most of the cooking around here.

He decided he wanted another skull cake to take to work and made red satin cake batter from a mix while I was out. I came back to find the skull halves in pieces. We debated all the things that could have gone wrong, from not being cooked through to trying to get them out of the molds before they were completely cooled down, when he suddenly remembered, while looking at the instructions on the next box before trying again, that he had neglected to add any eggs the first go around.

(Seems like it took forever to find the split seam
between the toes on the left front foot.)

He's outside today setting up and inflating the Hallowe'en balloons (which is his métier) despite a continuing low-grade variable wind. There's just nothing else to do if we are to have any decorations at all. It should be O.K. for 24 hours despite Frankenstein's Monster's stakes being pulled from the ground by the wind over the weekend . . . and that was while it was still just a misshapen lump on the ground.

Neighbor Dan was out there, too, and very upset. His balloons have been lying around out in the weather so long that several of them have developed rips and tears and won't blow up. We had a leakage problem with the giant black cat last year and found Duct tape an excellent bandage.

The tombstones are in. The four new apparitions will stay in the living room until the last minute and then join us in the driveway when the first little monsters arrive.

As we've both been reasonably good about not eating the candy ourselves, there should be enough to go around. This year.

Making the Best of a Windy Situation

Even though Sandy missed us by about two hundred miles, it's big enough that the backside winds have been blowing steadily for the past four days. And, while they're from the north and dry thus giving us high clear skies and temperate days, they're also strong enough to prevent my brother from putting out any more inflatable Hallowe'en decorations or blowing up the ones that are already on the lawn.

Neighbor Dan has been unable to raise his legions either and his have been staked out since the first of the month which means the grass all around them is now almost two feet tall and what's under them is probably dead.

My brother has been receiving more Hallowe'en stuff than I knew about. There are now four life-size ethereal figures looming around the living room. Three females and one male, all close to six feet tall, with livid hands and faces and draped in linen and gauze. They can't go outside, either, until the calm returns.




We did get to make use of one of his new purchases: a skull shaped (two halves, front and back) cake pan. He brought it out last night and we made up a double batch of pound cake* batter because the skull cavities looked a lot larger than they turned out to be so, after baking, we ended up excising a lot more of the material between the two halves than we had intended in order to get them to fit together properly the result being we have most of a pound cake, in two pieces, left over which is

actually a nice problem to have.

While the width of the skull cake is almost right, especially given the extremely pronounced zygomatics, the parietal is truncated giving it something of a bullet shape when viewed from the side. It remains, nevertheless, delicious.

My brother found some black food coloring when he went out late last night for additional baking supplies, so I am leaving the skull decorating to him.

* Is a double batch of pound cake a kilo cake? Sorry.

Familiar Faces Standing in the Light at the End of the Tunnel

The county Supervisor of Elections sends out sample ballots to every registered voter a couple of weeks prior to the election so we can all familiarize ourselves with what's up for decision this time around. I received mine yesterday.

The good news is: this means we're very close to the end of our two-year-long civic iron man triathalon. I look forward to the return of the overbearing used-car salesmen, ambulance chasing lawyers, screaming furniture warehouse pitchmen and concernedly sensitive hospice hucksters to our local airwaves. The bad news is: that final hurdle at the finish line.

We've been warned for a while now that this year's ballot would be exceptionally long, thanks to our pusillanimous legislature that decided, rather than actually doing its job and passing laws, to kick the responsibility over to us by creating an even dozen constitutional ballot initiatives and then exempting its initiatives from the legal requirements for brevity and clarity that ones proposed by, say, real concerned citizens are subject to*. Our ballot will be seven pages long**.

The first two pages are for candidates for office, the second page being entirely for the election of various judges which is a stupid concept in the first place and a legacy of Jim Crow but constitutional and just the way they do things down here. Technically, the judges are appointed and these are just retention elections but still.

What fascinated me, though, was the first column on the first page which is devoted entirely to the presidential/vice presidential race. In this state, at least, there are ten different tickets running for those offices. At the top of the list, of course, are Romney/Ryan and Obama/Biden (in that order, our governor being Republican thus giving that party top billing). After that, I'm not sure what order these candidates are in. Perhaps by vote total in the previous election? It's certainly not alphabetical by either candidate or party. Speaking of which, the three-letter abbreviations used for the parties are not much help.

The third party listed is "OBJ". Objectivist? After that, I recognize Gary Johnson and the "LBT", or Libertarian. There's Virgil Goode and what I assume from "CPF" is Conservative Party of Florida although it could just as easily be Communist. (O.K. a quick Google search indicates the "C" stands for Constitution. Apologies to all those on the far left and/or right.) "GRE" equals Green and I recognize Jill Stein. I assume "SOC" is Socialist. (And good luck to you, too, in this state.)

I have no idea what the REF, PSL, PFP, AIP, or JPF parties are even though Roseanne Barr (yes, that Roseanne Barr!) and Cindy Sheehan (of camping out in W's front yard fame) are the PFP candidates.

And then, here, at the very bottom of the ballot is a candidate I know personally, who I have met on a number of occasions and spoken to. Ross C. "Rocky" Anderson, former mayor of Salt Lake City, lefty burr under the saddle of the Utah legislature, is the presidential candidate for the JPF and is on the ballot here in Florida.

It is indeed a small, and very strange, world.

*I intend to vote no on all of them. The ones I have been able to read are awful and I have no intention of voting "Yes" on anything I haven't read.
**Some slightly paranoid commentators have opined that the length of the ballot is intentional and designed to discourage voters who may get frustrated at the amount of time needed and the backed up lines and just give up without voting but, as a voter suppression tactic, I don't see how that favors one side over the other. Never ascribe to Evil that which can be explained by Stupidity. For me, it's a moot point since we have early voting starting tomorrow and I intend to get it all over with then.

Transitions

A number of seasons are ending and beginning just now.

Rainy Season officially ended at the beginning of the month and I optimistically began leaving my car windows open to avoid the runaway greenhouse effect resulting from parking a sealed up vehicle in the sun. Unfortunately, the actual end-of-season is a bit more raggedy and I've had to bale twice now after leaving the car open at the library. And that doesn't even count my brother very kindly not waking me when he came home late one night as it started to shower and hanging towels all over my open windows. I have no idea why he has so many towels in his truck.

Fall is approaching. It is noticeably cooler (although today it's cloudy mostly because of Hurricane Sandy way off the east coast). I watched a tribe of very tiny ants stocking up for the coming "cold" spell. Scores of them were climbing up and down a vine including four triumphantly hoisting a cockroach leg aloft as they negotiated the tendrils. To be more precise, three of them were carrying the leg. The fourth had grabbed it in such a way that it's own legs couldn't reach any surface while they were moving and it just sort of dangled along for the ride not only not helping but actively adding to the burden.

With the weather cooling down, Bartleby has decided to become an outdoor cat again. She spends her time sleeping beneath one or the other of our vehicles or, occasionally, in a lawn chair and comes in only to dine. When we open the door for her she complains loudly at our inattention for not opening it sooner and, as soon as she finishes her meal, she starts yelling at us to let her out again. I am become majordomo to the cat.

Also, the zombies have come and gone. It's an annual migration, pretty much confined to the other side of the river.

Besides, Oktoberfest is here. After a couple of days no one on this side of the river will even notice a few zombies wandering loose.

End Games: My Face-Palm Moment

In the first book of the Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, there is a scene outside the gate to Moria in which Gandalf sits pondering the riddle written over the door trying to uncover the password that will let his party through. He translates it as "Speak, Friend, and Enter," and becomes increasingly frustrated as his "300-lives-of-men" worth of accumulated wisdom allows him to drag up virtually every secret password known to history all to no avail until it is pointed out to him that the riddle can also be translated as "Say 'Friend,' and Enter."

Face palm.

Boy, have I been over-thinking these puzzles. I solved two of them in short order over the weekend after dialing back a bit. I blame the need to discover an extra step in Puzzle 3 for my assumption of an unnecessary extra step in Puzzle 4. I was looking for the right solution and muddied up the clues which had been presented as straightforward as possible.

Puzzle 5 I rebuilt three or four times and kept fiddling with until I finally noticed, through sheer physically manipulative luck, the final instructions were built into the structure of the puzzle itself. When followed, the puzzle changed shape on its own, without further fiddling, and the answer was written right on it (although that did take a little squinting to see).

Unfortunately, that still leaves me four puzzles to go, the last one being unlocked yesterday. With all of them released, it is now a simple race to see who can deliver the last answer first. I am sure I am so far behind as to be completely out of the running but no announcement has yet been made, so I will keep plugging away.

And Not a Moment Too Soon

The UPS guy delivered four large boxes of body parts this morning.

I didn't know what they were, of course, when they arrived but they were addressed to my brother so I stacked the cartons in front of the door to his room. He took one look at them, smiled, and said, "Ah! Dead people!"

It seems we will be competing with Neighbor Dan in Hallowe'en excess this year after all. Neighbor Dan's blow-up menagerie of goblins, ghoulies and monsters has been spread across his lawn since the beginning of the month. Several of them are new this year. (The main effect, so far, is that Neighbor Dan has been unable to mow for almost three weeks and it shows.) All we've had to show until now are half a dozen balloon-head ghosts swaying around the live oak, and those only went up two days ago.

The contents of my brother's boxes consist of various zombie bits to be used to create a graveyard uprising.

(What a graveyard uprising might look like.)

My brother has started laying electric cords in preparation for the implantation of the inflatables. We're already stocked up on candy. I predict by the end of this weekend we will be in full holiday battle mode. 

And Back to Feeling Stupid, Again

I am going to be certifiably manic depressive before this Smithsonian puzzle contest is over.

Puzzle #7 opened yesterday and in short order I solved the surface conundrum but, of course, there is at least one more layer beneath that.

To make things worse, I have made no progress at all on puzzles 4 and 6. It doesn't help when I check Ken Jenning's puzzle blog and find comments from others about how quickly they have found the correct answers  and warning not to over-think the problem.

Right now I still have time but, if unsolved puzzles continue to accumulate, that will run out quickly since the winner will be the one who not only solves the last puzzle but is the first to respond. So they all need to be solved before the last one comes up next Monday.

One of Those Days

Sometimes a bunch of little things that, individually, don't mean anything accumulate in such a way that you just have to say "Well, this has been a strange day."

Today was platelet donation day but my appointment wasn't until noon so I decided to get a couple of things done on the way.

First off was gasoline since the car was running on fumes. As I pulled into the station I noticed a lizard had hitched a ride and was now clinging to the driver's side window opening just off the mirror. It was maybe three inches nose to tail tip, brown with a gorgeous delicate greenish stripe down its back. I tried catching it with the intention of releasing it in some nearby shrubbery and ended by chasing it up and down and around the side of my car while the attendant looked on from a distance. Eventually it got away. I tried looking for it when I was done fueling up but couldn't find it so maybe it got to somewhere green on its own.

(Not my barber. Although the resemblance
is scarily close. Stan's hair is fuller on
the back and sides.)

Next stop was the barber shop for my semi-annual shearing where I found my barber undergoing some sort of identity shift. He's always been on the doughy side and kind of soft with a Richard Simmons Sweatin'-to-the-Oldies thing going on, especially with his own hair, which I found amusing because of his very vocal full-on-Ebeneezer are-there-no-workhouses? libertarianism. Today I didn't recognize him. He's gone the full "It's Pat!" His voice is still upper baritone but he was wearing big dangly emerald glass earrings and his hair was classic middle-age matron.

Then it was on to the hospital where the TV over the donation couch was playing an episode of "House" and a patient was crashing out. "Oh uh," said my phlebotomist, glancing at the set while she stuck me. "Somebody's dying!" There's a reason the airlines all have a policy against showing in-flight movies involving plane crashes. I changed the channel.

And then on to the Smithsonian website where today's puzzle turned out to be an exercise in three-d. Even now that I'm done constructing it, the lettering makes no sense. I've already rebuilt it once. Well, back to feeling stupid again.

The Games Are Back On Track

The unseemly amount of fist pumping, happy-hopping and hooting accompanying my solution to the third puzzle would have been embarrassing if there had been anyone around to see it but, after six days of frustration, my elation was very real. So, take that, Ken Jennings! I'm back!

In the end, the answer just sort of appeared.

The Smithsonian released the fifth puzzle yesterday. It required some effort but was totally straightforward. Step one was basic, if time consuming, and yielded three clues, the first explaining what to do and the other two how to do it. An hour and a half and I was done.

That still left me with puzzles three and four. Letting them age was not working so I took out puzzle three again. I noticed that a few potential components had not been used and in attempting to identify all that might be missing began deconstructing the blamed thing when the answer just popped out. Actually, it more oozed out and I paused part way through when it suddenly seemed to not make sense any more only to realize it consisted of two parts and I was seeing the juncture. Now I'm wondering what the hidden extra steps in puzzle four might be.

Puzzle six will be released tomorrow and I still have number four on backlog but I no longer doubt my ability to work through this challenge. Whether or not I can work through it faster than anyone else is the question.

The Games Continue

O.K., Ken Jennings is currently kicking my butt.

The Smithsonian's puzzle contest started off well enough. I solved the introductory clues in the magazine fairly easily and unlocked the secret password needed just to get into the contest in plenty of time for the official start. The first on-line puzzle was a riddle and, after a little judicious Googling, I felt confident in my answer.

However, the next two puzzles have now been unlocked, one on Wednesday the other yesterday, and my brain seems to have shut down. My only consolation is that, from what I can gather on Jennings' puzzle blog, a lot of other people are in the same boat. On the other hand, anyone who is breezing through these isn't going to be complaining to Ken.

At least I have the long holiday weekend (thank you Cristobal Colon!) to wrack my brain before the next test becomes available on Tuesday.

Book Review, Now With Bonus Puzzle

I just finished a book, The Mobile Wave: How Mobile Intelligence Will Change Everything by Michael Saylor. It was a fun read, with a number of intriguing ideas by someone who ought to know, although it suffers from the boosterism of every title involved in the subject of "how X will change everything!".

One thing that has change in publishing, and not for the better, is the lack of serious editing and proofreading, a decision made, undoubtedly for financial reasons, by virtually all publishers. And very few authors value the services enough to pay out of their own pockets. The results are noticeable, often distracting, and do not do credit to either authors or publishers.

In this case, the book is well written but poorly proofed and, especially in the second half, an increasingly distracting number of extraneous words pop up in the text. Mostly they are conjunctions, articles and prepositions and do not change the meaning or clarity of the author's arguments but occasionally where the author selected a better choice for an existing word the old one was never deleted. Noun/pronoun mismatches and noun/verb disagreements also grate.

The best part, however, is: the author used staff from his own company to work on the book and at least some of them took advantage of the lack of adult supervision to hide their own names throughout the Reference section. (Yes, authors, there are people who will look at your notes, appendices and references.)
I had noticed what appeared to be randomly bolded letters throughout the section which, on closer inspection and connecting the dots as it were, formed the names of several employees whom the author credited with helping. (I've mentioned before that I like puzzles.)

So now I confess: I sent a somewhat snarky e-mail to the VP of Communication (who is also credited with working on the book put did not participate in the prank) sort-of ratting them out.

And Home Again Already

My niece is out of the hospital and home again.

She's on Tylenol and Motrin for pain relief and is walking around, playing her harp, playing card games with Mom and complaining of being bored already. She wants to be back in school again. I'm sure her friends can't wait, either.

Her Mom reports she was running a small fever, but her doctors expected as much, and as long as it stays below 101 everything is supposedly fine.

So, now we can get back to the annual Hallowe'en battle of the inflatable lawn decorations, wherein Neighbor Dan has already taken the offensive and may have a commanding lead.

Let the Games Begin

I'm a sucker for puzzles. Crosswords, acrostics, Sudoku, you name it I have to try it. I will often try to do them in my head, which I can manage for some crossword puzzles (although not the New York Times') and the local letter-substitution cipher (but not the Sudoku).

A button from the Twain's World
contest. I also still have the T-shirt
lying around somewhere.

I once participated, back when I lived in Hartford, in the "Twain's World" contest, a sort of scavenger hunt around the city for clues put on by the Hartford Courant over the course of a month or so with the final clue and solution to be determined by all the participants in a gathering in a city park under the direction of Merl Reagle. I was the first to come up with the correct answer, but my brain works differently and I did it intuitively, a sort of flash of insight, about two thirds of the way through. Merl and his gang were still setting up when I came up and showed them my answer whereupon he immediately made up a new rule, which wasn't in any of the written material, that we now had to "show your work" in order to claim the prize. I have held him in contempt (which I am sure bothers him immensely) ever since.

All of which is a mostly irrelevant introduction to the fact that the Smithsonian magazine is holding a contest designed by "Jeopardy" whiz Ken Jennings (who used to patronize the bookstore where I was a manager in Salt Lake but that's also mostly irrelevant). The first clue was in the magazine itself and I felt very Nic Cage-ish (unfortunately, without Diane Kruger) as I solved that one which gave me the password to get into the real puzzle that started today on line. It took a half hour to solve the first on-line clue. The next one will be released Wednesday and then every second or third day for the next couple of weeks.

It's totally ridiculous how much I am enjoying this.

Strolling Through the ICU

A little more than twenty-four hours after open heart surgery, my niece is up and walking around . . . with a little help.

She signed a little to her big brother but had to tell her Dad to go get Mom because Dad just couldn't understand her and Mom could. Then she wrote, "I can't breathe," meaning the tube down her throat was interfering so the doctors removed it and now she's talking again.

It's still going to be a while before she can be discharged, but I am so proud of the little fighter.

The Girl Is Doing Fine

I've received some word regarding my niece's surgery in Boston. It went well.

The operation was delayed half a day and she didn't go under until just after noon on Thursday. The whole thing took about seven hours. The doctors knocked her out, cooled down her body to slow respiration and circulation, attached her to a bypass machine so they could stop her heart and then repaired the leaky valve. Her parents and oldest brother were there the whole time and were given progress reports as the operation went along. There turned out to be three defects: two they knew about, although one was worse than expected, and one they only found when they were already in her heart. Once they were done and had tested their work, it took an hour to warm her back up and another one to close her.

The doctor planned to keep her unconscious and on a respirator over night but her parents saw her as they moved her to ICU and report that she already shows better color than before the operation.

Her Mom reported this morning that the docs plan to start removing her from her various tubes this afternoon and begin to wake her.

The family is planning on staying in Boston for most of next week while she recovers.

It's hard to express the depth of our gratitude to the doctors at Boston Children's Hospital and to all the staff there (let alone the researchers and equipment manufacturers and builders of sophisticated systems procedures and the almost-limitless list of others who have contributed in some way) who made this possible. This is what the interconnected web of civilization produces.

Latest update: 3 p.m. Caitlin is awake and when asked how she felt gave her Mom thumbs up. Tube down her throat will come out soon.

This Is Why We Support Local Businesses

Here's a product no chain store will ever offer.

Evan's Neighborhood Pizza presents: the $45 Everglades Pizza!

Yes, those are the frog's legs
sticking out over the edge.

Complete with swamp cabbage, frog's legs, alligator/wild boar sausage and python toppings with cheese on a marinara base.

Designed for locals and adventurous tourists, Evan sells one or two a month despite needing 24 hours notice.

The only sad part is he uses imported python meat instead of creating a market and giving hunters another reason to help curtail our local invasive Burmese snakes.

Down here, we laugh at your Hawaiian, your deep dish, your chicken Alfredo and barbecue pizzas. Next time you come down for a visit, man up and order a pie.

Eat it, Papa John!

A Trip to Boston

My 12-year-old niece goes in for surgery tomorrow morning, 6 a.m., at Boston Children's Hospital. This will be her third open heart operation, although the first two were done when she was a baby so this is the one she'll remember. I just got off the phone with her and her Dad (my Other Brother). They and the rest of the family, except my younger nephew who is stuck on base in Virginia, are all going off for a Duck (DUKW: ex-military amphibious vehicle) Tour of Boston Harbor.

Caitlin with her Dad and two older brothers.

Fortunately, insurance will cover the operation itself, but there are other expenses including travel costs, living arrangements in Boston, lost income and additional doctors' bills that are not covered so the family has been conducting a number of fundraisers to help defray them.

Caitlin, in the middle, because of the stress on her heart,
has always been  . . .extra petite. For comparison, her friend,
Elizabeth, in pink, is a classmate and the same age. Credit Kevin Kane

I have been very impressed by the support her friends and the community have shown her. Her classmate, Elizabeth McCann organized a bake sale and lemonade stand. The local grocery has been selling fundraising cookies and the church hosted a fundraising dinner. In addition, a number of individuals and charities have donated to her cause.

On the one hand, I wish none of this, the operation or the begging, was necessary. On the other hand, I am proud of how, when the need arises, we do all pull together, just because it's the right thing to do.

Turnings

I can tell that fall is here even though our days never get as long in the summer or short in the winter as they do further north.

The temperature no longer goes into the mid- to high-90s but stops short around 85 or so with high 70s in the evening. Soon we'll be able to turn off the air conditioner and open up the windows again.

The humidity is dropping as well although we do get the occasional evening rain still. (Another reason the windows are not open, yet.)

Leaves don't turn colors down here but palm fronds have been dropping like crazy littering lawns all around. I had one fall right next to me while I was leaving the library yesterday. They're not as heavy or dangerous as a falling branch from a traditional tree but they're not just leaves, either.

Most tellingly, the price of gasoline has just dropped four cents per gallon in the last two days.

Bartleby the . . . Affectionate?

Well, that was  . . . unexpected.

I was sitting in the recliner last night, feet up, reading one of my two current books (Darwin's Devices: What Evolving Robots Can Teach Us About the History of Life and the Future of Technology by John Long) when Bartleby suddenly decided, for no discernible reason, to be sociable. No. More than mere "sociable." She wanted to cuddle.

She started by putting her front paws up by my feet and peering over the edge of the chair. When I looked up from the book and asked, "What do you think you're doing?" she took it as an invitation and jumped onto the seat. She stood there for a moment and then started prodding my legs and, eventually, stomach trying to find the most comfortable spot.

After a brief discussion on the impropriety of "kneading" (she's very careful with her syringe-sharp claws around exposed flesh but just doesn't get the idea that there is anything sensitive under cloth) we negotiated a compromise wherein she could rest her head and shoulders on my lap as long as I cupped her front paws in my hand. My hand ended up on her chest (unlike any other cat I've known, Bartleby actually likes having her tummy rubbed) where I could feel several different layers of purring including an inaudible high-pitched vibration, a lower-end continuous rumble and two versions of the standard loud purr, one on the inhale running from the tips of my fingers to my palm and another on the exhale running the opposite way, both of which slowly diminished to nothing as she feel asleep.

We stayed like that for two hours which made continuing with the book a little difficult but I just didn't have the heart to wake her.

My God! It's Full of Win!

The most awesomest xkcd cartoon EVAR!!

 http://xkcd.com/1110/

Click on the link and then click and drag on the large fourth panel to find out just how big a world it is! I can't imagine the time and effort it took to build this!

Hey! I found an edge!

Miscellanea: Fauna, Aquatic, Aerial and Terrestrial

It looks like the Mohawk Reef has become a magnet for whale sharks. A second one was spotted there just this past week. It's also become a magnet for just about every other fish within twenty miles.

And it seemed the great turtle egg-laying season from earlier this year might have been compromised by Tropical Storm Debby and Hurricane Isaac but, then again, maybe not.

The sulphur butterflies are all over the yard, about the same size and color as the new lemons on the lemon tree. A few viceroys and some others I haven't been able to identify yet are also hanging about.

  

   

The abundance of lizards would seem to indicate that the Cuban Tree Frogs have not overwhelmed our little ecological niche.

And then, of course, there is the cat who has become sleek and fat and demanding, training us to her extremely large vocabulary of grunts, whistles, chirps and mewls as she explains that her food dish needs topping off and her water bowl requires freshening and the door needs to be held open right now while she decides whether to sit on the cushioned chair outside under the oak or remain sprawled on the living room carpet.

All in the Family, Navy Style

My oldest nephew just made Chief Petty Officer today. His kid brother, my other nephew (also in the Navy and the one who went to Iraq), and his dad, my Other Brother and a retired chief himself, were both there in Norfolk, Virginia for the ceremony.

The rule is, if family is in attendance, family get to apply the insignia of promotion so my Other Brother and my nephew's brother got to pin his new anchors on him.

Yes, he does look a little like Tom Cruise when he smiles.

I'm also impressed that Dad can still fit into his old uniform.

That Day

Another anniversary. The further along we get the easier it is to identify what changed that day.

After that day we could no longer claim to be the Home of the Brave as we let irrational fear feed hatred of the Other. As we lashed out blindly at innocents because they looked like our attackers or worshiped the same god they did (the same god many of us claim to follow, as well, just with a different name). It is fear that caused some of us to prevent American Muslims from building mosques from California to Tennessee to New York, fear that caused some of us to attack Sikhs because they wear turbans, fear that allowed cynical politicians to manipulate us into an unnecessary war. We were told to go shopping, there was no need to be participating citizens, the experts would protect us. So we bought magnetic ribbons and crying eagle T-shirts and continued to drive as if the gasoline we used had nothing to do with the situation we were in.

Neither could we claim, after that day, to be the Land of the Free as we allowed those same politicians to cow us into accepting what have become permanent restraints on our constitutional liberties in return for an illusory safety. We now submit to scans, x-rays, body searches, various levels of disrobing and yet despite many reports and warnings in advance, the original attacks were not prevented. Despite the continuing security theater, subsequent attacks, starting on that very day, have been foiled not by the authorities but by us, ourselves, the civilians on the scene. And we did not object and believed the ridiculous claim that our risk could be brought down to zero.

Are we safer? After 9/11, the terrorists were never going to use airplanes as flying bombs again. That stunt only works once before the passengers realize the rules have changed, you no longer cooperate with the hijackers in return for a quick stopover in exotic, tropical Havana. Faced with certain death anyway, you fight back, hard. And we did. And will again. Despite our leaders' lack of faith in us.

Mark Twain supposedly once said, "To a man with a hammer, every problem looks like a nail." Well, we own the biggest hammer in the world and we haven't been shy about using it these past eleven years. Did invading Iraq help? Does stripping grandma and feeling up little kids at the airport help? Does collecting every conversation in the world help? Hint: NSA had received a warning about the underwear bomber but couldn't pull it out of the haystack until after the attempt was made and the perp arrested.

We lost our minds on that day and we haven't been quite right in the head since. 

The one thing we haven't lost, will never lose, is our innocence but that's just because, when it comes to politics, we never learn from experience.