I don't know how many of you have been following the government's attempt to turn Iran into the next Iraq--a rogue state with weaponry that could bring us down in a moment, strange people who don't speak English the way George Bush does, sitting on oil they might not want to give to us...
Once upon a time, last year, I couldn't believe that the US would launch another unprovoked attack. After all, it cannot be a surprise to even the most gung-ho war supporter that the attack on Iraq has not gone well. So it seemed improbable that our government would decide to try again. But I think I expected too much rationality, or maybe they've taken the egregious Thomas Friedman's admonition to be a little bit crazy seriously.
Whatever their reasons, it appears that we are being softened up for another war. The talking heads are talking up the dangers we face from Iran. Next we'll start hearing about aluminum tubes, and then we'll see satellite pictures of trucks driving around the desert. Democrats will start scurrying for cover.
I expect the unprovoked attack--oops, war--to be launched in February or March. By then it will be too late to impeach them.
Monday, September 24, 2007
My Summer Vacation
I've been really lazy. I went to Hawaii and didn't write a word about it, even though I had my computer with me and access to a fast internet connection. I was just lazy. And I've been back for a month now.
My friend A took us along with her when she went to help care for her mom, who lives in Kailua. I didn't think J would want to go, but he did, so we all headed off for Honolulu. I'm not a good flyer, but the plane left too early in the morning for J to pour a beer down me before embarking. I survived the flight, but on landing the pilot had to abort the first attempt and come 'round for another attempt. Anyone else on getting to see Diamond Head for both the first and second time from the air would be thrilled, but I only wondered whether the plane had enough fuel for the second attempt.
Living in Sacramento has given me a great appreciation for any landscape with features. And Hawaii has features. The color of the ocean is a color unlike the Pacific anywhere on the California coast. It's not quite teal, but almost. And the mountains (the highest is about 2,500 feet) rise from sea level in almost vertical cliffs. So while they wouldn't be much more than foothills here in California, the mountains of Oahu are imposing in appearance. Even better the colors of the mountains change every 15 minutes--sometimes green, sometimes brown, sometimes a purple-black--as the ever-present clouds strike shadows across the sky.
I think there must be a beautiful sandy beach every 30 feet, and we sampled several of them. I did insist on putting my feet in Waikiki (and in fact spotted fish from the sea wall there), but spent more time at Kailua and Lanikai beaches. Most of my beach time was spent swimming, so I didn't get to read a single beach book. There wasn't time.
A is a wonderful tour guide and organized our time to see as much as we could in the nine days we were there. We were taken to Honolulu, the North Coast, hiking to Waimea Falls, snorkeling at Shark's Cove, to the Blowhole, everywhere. While Oahu is a small island, travel is slow. There are no superhighways and the maximum speed on the island is 60 mph. Most roads are much slower--35 to 40 mph. We never got to the Bishop Museum or Hanauma Bay or Pearl Harbor, so I'll just have to make another trip some day...
I somehow managed to develop an interest in the early missionaries who came to Hawaii in 1820. At a really excellent bookstore in Kailua I happened across one of the classics on the subject (Bradford Smith's Yankees in Paradise) and will get around to reading it as soon as I finish the book I'm reading with the PACE freshmen at Kennedy High later this month--Epitaph for a Peach. It's difficult looking at the portraits and photographs on Hawaii's royal family wearing heavy woolen clothing when shorts and tank tops are far more appropriate to the climate. But through the majority of the 19th century that's what they wore.
J has put up the pictures at http://home.comcast.net/~johnkwasnik/vacation/Oahu/oahu-1.html
so you can see our trip.
My friend A took us along with her when she went to help care for her mom, who lives in Kailua. I didn't think J would want to go, but he did, so we all headed off for Honolulu. I'm not a good flyer, but the plane left too early in the morning for J to pour a beer down me before embarking. I survived the flight, but on landing the pilot had to abort the first attempt and come 'round for another attempt. Anyone else on getting to see Diamond Head for both the first and second time from the air would be thrilled, but I only wondered whether the plane had enough fuel for the second attempt.
Living in Sacramento has given me a great appreciation for any landscape with features. And Hawaii has features. The color of the ocean is a color unlike the Pacific anywhere on the California coast. It's not quite teal, but almost. And the mountains (the highest is about 2,500 feet) rise from sea level in almost vertical cliffs. So while they wouldn't be much more than foothills here in California, the mountains of Oahu are imposing in appearance. Even better the colors of the mountains change every 15 minutes--sometimes green, sometimes brown, sometimes a purple-black--as the ever-present clouds strike shadows across the sky.
I think there must be a beautiful sandy beach every 30 feet, and we sampled several of them. I did insist on putting my feet in Waikiki (and in fact spotted fish from the sea wall there), but spent more time at Kailua and Lanikai beaches. Most of my beach time was spent swimming, so I didn't get to read a single beach book. There wasn't time.
A is a wonderful tour guide and organized our time to see as much as we could in the nine days we were there. We were taken to Honolulu, the North Coast, hiking to Waimea Falls, snorkeling at Shark's Cove, to the Blowhole, everywhere. While Oahu is a small island, travel is slow. There are no superhighways and the maximum speed on the island is 60 mph. Most roads are much slower--35 to 40 mph. We never got to the Bishop Museum or Hanauma Bay or Pearl Harbor, so I'll just have to make another trip some day...
I somehow managed to develop an interest in the early missionaries who came to Hawaii in 1820. At a really excellent bookstore in Kailua I happened across one of the classics on the subject (Bradford Smith's Yankees in Paradise) and will get around to reading it as soon as I finish the book I'm reading with the PACE freshmen at Kennedy High later this month--Epitaph for a Peach. It's difficult looking at the portraits and photographs on Hawaii's royal family wearing heavy woolen clothing when shorts and tank tops are far more appropriate to the climate. But through the majority of the 19th century that's what they wore.
J has put up the pictures at http://home.comcast.net/~johnkwasnik/vacation/Oahu/oahu-1.html
so you can see our trip.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Writing in the Yard
I've been sitting in the yard for 45 minutes now, trying to start a comment on Michael Ignatieff's mea culpa in last week's New York Times magazine. Admittedly the piece turned my brain to sludge for a week, but I should be able to churn something out. Yet, nothing.
Perhaps it's that I just can't write serious stuff unless I am inside, sitting at the table. It's not as miserably hot as usual, so I'm sitting in the yard, watching the cats play and listening to the sounds of the Sacramento evening--traffic, traffic helicopters--and watching Dash play with Little Pal from next door. Actually, I have to pay close attention to keep Little Pal from opening the screen door and heading for the cat food corner. He saw Emma open the door once and quickly mastered the skill. Constant vigilance is now required to keep him out.
Oh, yes, and there are mockingbirds and hummingbirds as well. They're noisy, but not as noisy as the blue jay and her adolescent we had living in the privet tree for awhile. The jay was teaching her issue to talk and this required practice. A lot of practice. Practice in the morning, practice in the afternoon, practice in the evening. And the kid didn't seem to be doing very well. So they practiced some more. I've never even considered a pellet gun before, and I'm sure I would never have done such a thing, but... I haven't seen them for about a week, so I figure the kid must have mastered the basics.
Perhaps is just that I don't have anything new to say about Iraq. One of the good things about having a blog of my own is that I have to read serious stuff. No hanging out on GardenWeb reading about tomatoes and aphids. No watching Onion Videos. That's probably a good thing, as I think my attention span may now be 6:02. But it also means that I discover that many other people have the same thoughts I do, and they frequently express them better than I would have. So I keep my own counsel, not wanting to repeat thoughts better expressed by others.
Perhaps it's that I just can't write serious stuff unless I am inside, sitting at the table. It's not as miserably hot as usual, so I'm sitting in the yard, watching the cats play and listening to the sounds of the Sacramento evening--traffic, traffic helicopters--and watching Dash play with Little Pal from next door. Actually, I have to pay close attention to keep Little Pal from opening the screen door and heading for the cat food corner. He saw Emma open the door once and quickly mastered the skill. Constant vigilance is now required to keep him out.
Oh, yes, and there are mockingbirds and hummingbirds as well. They're noisy, but not as noisy as the blue jay and her adolescent we had living in the privet tree for awhile. The jay was teaching her issue to talk and this required practice. A lot of practice. Practice in the morning, practice in the afternoon, practice in the evening. And the kid didn't seem to be doing very well. So they practiced some more. I've never even considered a pellet gun before, and I'm sure I would never have done such a thing, but... I haven't seen them for about a week, so I figure the kid must have mastered the basics.
Perhaps is just that I don't have anything new to say about Iraq. One of the good things about having a blog of my own is that I have to read serious stuff. No hanging out on GardenWeb reading about tomatoes and aphids. No watching Onion Videos. That's probably a good thing, as I think my attention span may now be 6:02. But it also means that I discover that many other people have the same thoughts I do, and they frequently express them better than I would have. So I keep my own counsel, not wanting to repeat thoughts better expressed by others.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
The Incarvillea
Playing in the dirt was so much easier in Oakland than it is here. There I could plant almost anything in the nasty clay soil and it would do reasonably well. I planted the traffic island, which had soil only the most tenacious weeds could love, and most stuff flourished. Here the same plants don't survive, no matter what I do. I've tried coddling, tough love, everything, but still the incarvillea is weak. I trashed one as part of the Mass Herbicide in the spring, when I decided to replant one section of the back yard. The two in front have only a month or two to show why they should be allowed to stay.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Fog! Oh Joy! Fog!
Once upon a time, when I lived in San Francisco, I railed against the summer fog. Sometimes in the summer the fog would burn off at about 2:00 and return at about 2:30. It was cool--no, cold-- all summer. When we moved across the bay to Oakland, we'd get somewhat more sun. The fog would burn off sometime in the morning and return by late afternoon. Some summers were better than others--meaning that we got more sun for more of the day. The natural air conditioning worked pretty well most of the summer.
Sacramento isn't like that. Here the sun shines brightly all day, all summer. And it's a harsh, ugly light. It's often too hot to work in the yard after noon. And by 5:00, it's deadly. I'm trapped in the house with the air conditioning. Yuck!
But this morning I woke up to--fog. A good thick layer. It may be foggy well into the afternoon. The light is wonderful--soft and damp--the way it's s'posed to be. Perhaps we'll get a full day or two of this delicious fog before the summer heat returns. Greedy! Greedy!
Sacramento isn't like that. Here the sun shines brightly all day, all summer. And it's a harsh, ugly light. It's often too hot to work in the yard after noon. And by 5:00, it's deadly. I'm trapped in the house with the air conditioning. Yuck!
But this morning I woke up to--fog. A good thick layer. It may be foggy well into the afternoon. The light is wonderful--soft and damp--the way it's s'posed to be. Perhaps we'll get a full day or two of this delicious fog before the summer heat returns. Greedy! Greedy!
Sunday, August 5, 2007
In Search of Potholders
I had thought of beginning this blog with an introduction, but haven't gotten round to thinking about what I'm going to do with it. So I'll just say that it will evolve. I don't know whether I'll write every day or once a week or lose interest entirely after a month or so. I'll just see where it goes and follow along.
It's probably not a positive to begin a blog by whining, but I've just spent a frustrating two hours searching for potholders. Yes, potholders. When J and I moved here from Oakland six years ago, one of the first things I noticed was that the goods available seemed to be the leftovers from Hayward. Simple things like tapers were difficult, if not impossible, to find. And when I finally found them, I had a "choice" of one style and three colors. Goods available at any corner market in Oakland required a journey to a specialty shop here. And so my search for potholders took me to four stores, all of which had the same style in the same colors.
What gives? Have the powers that be determined that we're potentially another Cuba and decided to embargo us? Or have Sacramentans become so worn down that they accept what they cannot change and make their selections from the meager goods on offer? Or has the population decided to order on the internet? Come to think of it, the Sacramento Bee did report about a year ago that Sacramentans do more internet shopping than any other large city in the country. This might explain why.
Even shopkeepers who should know better try to foist goods on us that should be returned to sender. A couple of years ago, one of our local plant nurseries tried to sell us plants that, according to the description, loved our cool summers. Cool summers? The daytime temperature here is almost always above 90 degrees from June to September and it's often above 100. Were they so desperate for plant matter that they'd take anything?
It's probably not a positive to begin a blog by whining, but I've just spent a frustrating two hours searching for potholders. Yes, potholders. When J and I moved here from Oakland six years ago, one of the first things I noticed was that the goods available seemed to be the leftovers from Hayward. Simple things like tapers were difficult, if not impossible, to find. And when I finally found them, I had a "choice" of one style and three colors. Goods available at any corner market in Oakland required a journey to a specialty shop here. And so my search for potholders took me to four stores, all of which had the same style in the same colors.
What gives? Have the powers that be determined that we're potentially another Cuba and decided to embargo us? Or have Sacramentans become so worn down that they accept what they cannot change and make their selections from the meager goods on offer? Or has the population decided to order on the internet? Come to think of it, the Sacramento Bee did report about a year ago that Sacramentans do more internet shopping than any other large city in the country. This might explain why.
Even shopkeepers who should know better try to foist goods on us that should be returned to sender. A couple of years ago, one of our local plant nurseries tried to sell us plants that, according to the description, loved our cool summers. Cool summers? The daytime temperature here is almost always above 90 degrees from June to September and it's often above 100. Were they so desperate for plant matter that they'd take anything?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
