Scratchy

It's a scratchy throat I'm feeling. It started with a very strange night's sleep. All night long I had to clear my throat of excess fluids. Then on the way to work, it felt a bit off. Just that little tickle in the back of my throat.
I didn't think much of it during the day until we had an assembly in the outdoor stadium nearby. One of my co-workers mentioned the foolishness of standing out in the drizzle/drips since he had had a head cold for a couple days.
Now I wasn't about to discuss the issue of being outside in the fresh air as being worse for him than being cooped up in a 20x20 room with 15 teens as he has smaller classes being a special ed. teacher and therefore a smaller room. Still, why do people still insist that you get a cold from being out in it?
What's more, it was a humid 68 degrees out this afternoon. That's not what I'd call frigid. That weather, though, is hitting Montana's eastern plains, so I'm told by a friend of a friend's posting on one of the few social sites I frequent infrequently.
Those folks who avoid outside when they have a cold are the same ones who have bottles of hand sanitizer in their environment and sneeze into their shirt arms because they don't want to spread germs. And any teacher who has seen students run around at recess during 5 degrees in January knows that they are constantly MAKING those little knuckleheads put on their coats. It's like they have ice running through their veins. By all indications - running, tackling, blocking, sliding - the cold isn't making them sick because they're the same ones you've told to put on their jackets all week and they still aren't absent. Come to think of it, you were telling them all last week, too.
So we need to think of a better name than a cold. Cold doesn't enter into it. Unless the pencil I sneezed on and let you borrow got more germy when I put it into my refrigerator. Or maybe the railings at the mall that you used were filled with liquid nitrogen to keep the bacteria activated. I think that's where water monkeys come from - the mall. Not inside railings.
So what are we going to call the scratchy throat, itchy tongue, runny mucus holes, and background headache that occur mostly during the winter when everyone is inside sharing airborne orgnisms and avoiding the low temperatures for fear of catching their death?
Should we call it non-observation disease or n.o.d? That seems to be what you feel like doing when you're in a meeting, doesn't it? Maybe pony disease would explain why you are a little hoarse.
The world is filled with new names from drug companies: Cymbalta for that pesky fear of silver on drum sets; Celebrex cures those sudden urges to rejoice spontaneously; Flonase helps something out of your nasal capacity. If they can come up with 24,000 names for the rearrangement of 20 amino acids, they certainly can come up with a new name that sounds as miserable as the uncommon viruses that we call a cold that makes us wish we could scratch that itch and itch that scratch just above our esophagus.
With all that scratching going on, you'd think it was baseball season. But that's not played in winter either, (unless you count winter ball in Puerto Rico).
"CHEW!"

What's with the penguins?

I have received two gifts already this school year.
A former student, who is quite the artist made three pictures for me to hang up in my classroom: one of a penguin with her face on it, a penguin with the face of her friend and my student for the third semester in a row, and one of yours truly's face on a penguin body. They are hanging up behind my desk. Why penguins? Because a long time ago I started collecting penguin pictures from old calendars and have many hanging in my classroom. No big deal about the penguins, but they sure are photogenic.

A gift from a student's family
5 years ago.

This morning I got a little penguin in plastic from another student who requested me for this year again. If you stick it in water, it'll grow up to 600% of it's 3" x 1.5" size. These presents come on the heels of some frustration with the admin who are putting pressure on the staff to reflect about their thoughts, find new methods to share, collect more data, and prove improvement. It's frustrating because what we really need, having adopted new textbooks, two of which represent new classes, is encouragement and appreciation for the extra hours we are putting in for the kids. We in the math dept. are working our tails off more since we lost one FTE (one teacher position), cut by the district so that we can better serve the students who have gone from a minimum of two credits in math to graduate to three.
There are no such things as budget cuts, the same work must simply be done by less people. Oh wait, the government has decreed that the teachers are at fault for students who are taking drugs, not lessons. The government has decreed that if the students who sit in class stoned don't pass the national or state exams we can get rid of the teachers and therefore the problem will go away because the government has solved it. It's beat up a teacher week in your state capital and your nation's capital so that the foolish decisions that they have made can be hidden.
In the mean time, the students still love their teachers, the actual students, that is. And they are willing to present these little gifts in appreciation.
Nope, they aren't little gifts. They're huge.

Boozers need heroes, too

 "Awesome concert" were the words used by "Alabama Beachlife" described on cmt.com's web site's report on their live broadcast of the One Love One Ocean performance on the Country Music Television channel on Sunday night. Jimmy Buffet must be this guy's hero.

 I happened to do a bit of channel surfing at about the time the concert started, found the performance and was intrigued. I remember a few Jimmy Buffet songs that hit the airwaves when I was in college and thought I might listen in. Who knows, maybe I'd find another fairly popular act that was out-of-the-mainstream to enjoy on my mp3 player which is not an iPod. (It's about 150 cheaper for the same functions.) I listened to 80 minutes of the concert before leaving for a walk in the park. Apparently, I missed hearing "Margaritaville" as the cmt.com's web site mentioned that the concert went an hour and a half without commercials.

There was an expectation to experience a show that would make me a fan or make me turn off the tube. It did neither.

After closely listening to the guitar work, the lyrics, the background vocals, the percussion the conclusion was: nothing special. The twenty- to forty-something audience, shown often, was not in love with the music they had paid to see. They were singing along at the beach, they were happy. They were not entranced.

Looking back at a few concerts while in my forties that had the power to captivate, such as The Blue Man Group and Piano Men (B Joel and E John) made the three hours feel like an out of world experience. Watching the DVD of Dire Straits at Wembley Stadium still installs goose bumps. The Jimmy Buffet concert didn't even goose the girls in the second row.

It wasn't bad. It wasn't awesome, it just was. While the the set-ups for the songs, explaining about the upcoming selections: "Son of a Son of a Sailor" and "Nobody from Nowhere" were intriguing there were no clever twists in the verse. The musical introductory measures to "Rumba Man" sung by the co-writer or writer or friend or somebody who came on stage to sing it, appealed. But then the thoughts didn't really lead towards touching or clever or sarcastic. Harry Chapin, Jim Croce, or Jim Taylor, would have spent some creative vibes on making the words just right. At the very least, Paul Simon would think up all sorts of alliteration. Time to create? Buffet MUST have had time to work on the message on all the beaches, bars, and honky-tonks that he claimed were home, mentioned often in each interlude between songs.

At least the instruments weren't off tune in the salty air. There was no special guitar work. The start of every song had the drummer hit his sticks together four times. Four four beat on your whole show? I learned all my first year piano songs in four/four time with an occasional three/four time thrown in to confuse me. These guys weren't confused. They made a big paycheck for being the same.

If you were offered to give a 1 -10 rating on this concert, you'd put down what you answered on your latest office survey. Five. This means you aren't finding anything to comment on, you don't like the topic much, but not enough to dislike it, either.

At the end of the show, one  could relate to the lyrics to the aforementioned Nobody from Nowhere. "We’re just waiting for a car to drive by, Just so we can wave..."

My mp3 player is safe from an additional artist. 

The reviewer on cmt.com's page might edit his or her comments when he sobers up.

What Is It With You?

So why did you pick me? When I walked into that pet store at the end of January where the local Rescued Pets group was showing you off to potential cat staff, why did you cuddle up to me and not let me leave without you? Why didn't you snuggle up to anyone else during that four hour stint of kitty-show-and-tell?

Why do you follow me around the house whenever I come in from someplace else? Why are you sitting on my lap right now - half on and half off, leaning against the keyboard shelf. This looks not-so-comfortable.

Did you know that you were needed? Many animals have a funny sense about these things.

Did you know that you were coming to a house that tended to spoil kitties with toys, good nourishing food (for cats) and a warm lap or two to choose from? You've come to the right place.

You must have known that you'd get the second blog, right after an ode to a family favorite. Somehow, you seem to know that we'll figure out what you mean by your squeaks, meows, and other slightly different vocalizations that you've been letting us hear. Maybe you're just playing mind games with us as you bat around krinkly sounding balls, pick them up, move them, and then drop them into your water bowl.

We know you aren't KB and aren't expecting you to take her place. We are sure you won't do many of the things that endeared us to her. Yet, you're finding new ones.

Why did you pick me? Did you see a sucker for a fuzzy face and did we need a little critter who practically melts into my arm when sitting on my lap? Or did you just know we needed your type here?

No Groundhogs here

Nope, It's not April. That's when the tulips start blooming and the plum trees (left) break out in color along the city streets.

Last year, the tulip festivals were about a month late and strawberry picking which usually lasts until the middle of June toward the end of July. We just had the warmest January on record. Now that February is wrapping up, we may have another record warm month thanks to El Nino. Of course, they are predicting that we'll have a drought by the middle of summer which is normally our dry season anyway.

As we walked through Tam O Shanter Park in Kelso, they were cutting the outfield grass and working the infield. Last weekend, RA Long high school's baseball team was preparing their field by removing the tarps as we drove to the grocery on Saturday morning. Is this what mild is supposed to be?

You've been watching the Winter, er...Spring Olympics from Vancouver. We're only 4-5 hours south and a few degrees warmer. At least the visitors from the cold places liked the weather.

I don't suppose you'd believe me that we're a bit disappointed that we haven't gotten in enough snowshoeing in the Cascades.

Snow

There is a common complaint in the Pacific NW about the rain during our rainy season. It has to do with, well, the rain. When I find others who have moved here from colder climes, we all have a similar response, I have found.

"You don't have to shovel it."

Back in 2002, Dee thought I might have trouble with the constantly-overcast skies during the winter. I haven't. There are these times during the day that we call "sun breaks". The rain stops for a bit and the sun shines through breaks in the clouds. Then it rains or showers or rain-showers or pours (rare).

It's been in the 40's here in the valley for quite some time and when it's raining, 40 can be bone-chilling. It has to do with a penetrating feeling that the humidity and temp and wind

combine for. It also might have to do with this body nudging half a century (less than a month a way). Man, that's weird to even think about...back to 40's.

When it's 40-something down here in the valley, it's 30-something up on the mountains. When the clouds clear, we get to see bright mountain tops which beckon us to come visit the fluffy white stuff.

It used to be skiing, the cross country variety, that drew us to the trails. Now it's snowshoeing. It's a bit slower, but safer, and it's more suited for ungroomed and tracked trails. The equipment is much lighter nowadays.

Gone are the heavy straps and wooden frames. Strong flexible rubber-like straps and titanium, aluminum (or something-um) frames make them easy to use as you sink a bit in fluffy white-stuff billowed in the forest. And when you get to gaze at the frosted trees in a clearing you find out why the nearly two hour drive is worth every minute.

So cold rain in the valley means a Saturday spent at a SnoPark in the Cascades where near the end of the morning's jaunt the white patches start appearing along the roadside at about 2500 feet. By the time you get up to 4000 feet, there are walls of plowed snow and ice five feet high. This, of course, will grow to 10+ feet soon. At the end of the day, it's a bit strange to come down and see only green trees and wet forest floor along the highway. At home, the roads might be dry and the snow shovel securely hanging on the garage. Unless we took it along up with us. Then it get's put back on the hook.

We don't shovel snow here. We visit it.

Goodbye little friend

It's the hardest thing in the world that we've ever had to do.

We had to say good-bye to our K.B. today. She was the most lovable kitty that we'd ever known and we served as her staff for 15 of her 17 year life. No longer will I walk in the back door with her waiting by her food bowl to be fed and then follow me around waiting for that warm lap. No longer will she curl up on our warm flannel sheets for a nap while she waited for Dee to come home at lunch to supply her with warm laundry for the afternoon. No longer will she purr up a storm while having her chin scratched. She won't chase a little laser dot around the living room, either. She won't, but she will. She is firmly entrenched in our memories. She will always be the sweet charmer whom even those who are not cat fans liked.

We would have gotten in trouble with Dee's folks if we had ever not shown up for a weekend in Oregon with our well-traveled feline companion in tow. She put on a few miles, over 2100 across the country back in 2002 when we moved west. Probably another 90-some trips back and forth to Eugene for Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, summer, spring, fall, whenever. She endured those trips, but as a family member, she had to go. And now she did.

This is admittedly not eloquent and can not begin to describe the hole in hearts. It's just meant to tell you we were so fortunate to have her with us.

Not for a long time

I wonder why I haven't posted a blog for over a year. Is it because nothing has happened? No. There's been hiking trips, Ducks games, a vacation with a two day train trip, and even a wedding in the family. How strange that I haven't written anything for so long.

I guess the main reason for my past posts was to share some stories along with pictures of our hikes, but I haven't stopped using my camera, so that can't be it. I haven't felt particularly chatty for a long time, that could be true. I don't use my cell phone to call past friends much anymore, except for my buddy Pete in northern Wisconsin. And that occurs about once every other month.

Our trip across the northern part of the country on Amtrak last summer was pretty neat, especially traveling through Glacier National Park and then Eastern Washington. The former for it's beauty and the latter to see the part of the state that we haven't experienced yet. I still don't know that I could accurately describe the trip except to say that I'd love to do it again and can't wait to ride the train again, too.

Luke and Katie's wedding, in June, was nearly perfect. Everyone says that about their children's wedding, so that isn't really right for this blog.

There is the case of one more lost WELS member, but I'm still trying to put that into words. We joined a local congregation here in Longview since the closest wels church that is available is 50 minutes away and this one is just fine. It's a member of a church body not in fellowship with the wels so we've been ostracized by congregations in Oregon that we had formerly been welcomed in. Funny how one's ideas change after so many years of hearing one corporations propaganda that never really rang true. This corporation's propaganda isn't perfect either, but then I joined a congregation, not a corporation.

See? That just doesn't work. I can't accurately tell why in positives, it's still somewhat of a rejection of attitudes of a group that apparently spoke for me.

Here goes again. We found a group of Christians led by a pastor who sees things the way I do on so many accounts. He sees problems in the corporation, but focuses in on the local congregation which is what he and others can leave the same or change. This group of grey-haired people wish for youth, but they have a genuine friendliness that flows over into their social/fellowship dinners - the high point of each month. They quietly work in the community helping the less fortunate, not to gain favor or salvation or whatever as some would suggest, but are simply living their faith in a way that they know. I like to study the Word with them and they like it that I'm pretty good at teaching Bible class along with the pastor who looks to me as one who has valid insights and training, not as a "threat" to his ministry. I'm now an elected elder who doesn't want to make quick changes, but wants to point out what scripture says and let the people decided when and if changes, no, improvements, should occur.

How does this relate to hiking?

Life is a journey.

Our journey has taken quite a detour lately. We haven't found the end of the detour and are quite content to stay on it for as long as the LORD wants. We don't really know why we are where we are, but we know for sure that he was the one who put out the big orange signs marking the Way for us. It's not a drive to make time, it's time to enjoy the trip. We're still traveling.

From Boring to Excitement

It was a rather boring summer on the coast. Every day after our trip to Colorado was spent packing a couple boxes and playing online poker while waiting for Dee to get off work. There were a few more walks on the beach, trips to the doctor, and visits to some of the rocky coast spots to see some whales after supper, but it was mostly just waiting.

Our moving day went rather smoothly, as did the trip north to Vancouver, WA where we spent the night relaxing at a motel. The weather in the valley (between the Cascade Mountains to the east and the Coastal Range to the west) was rather warm. We were used to mid-60's nearly every day on the coast and it was 102 in Portland that day.

We were allowed to enjoy 97 degrees on the 15th when we moved into our quaint (defined as very much smaller than we were used to) house on a tree-lined street in Longview about 6 blocks from the Columbia River. It's also about three blocks from the city's main park - Lake Sacajewea Park - an evening stroller's dream. But it was still 30 degrees hotter than we were used to and that kept us from being irritated at anything, no wait.... reverse that.

When we were packing, we made a pact that this was going to be a more relaxed move and we when we started getting upset over meaningless topics, we were going to stop unpacking and do something else for awhile. The peace treaty took a beating on Unpacking Day #1 when we were still at it after 9 hours and hadn't taken time for supper. Hmmm, what to do, go out and sit at an air conditioned restaurant and eat Chinese? or heat up the already overheated kitchen by turning on the oven and baking a pizza?

Timing, they say, is everything. In the relaxed mode on this Saturday morning (today's temp-62 degrees) with no pending plans, other than to rest from a week of teaching. I'd say that the above decision would line up in the no-brainer category. I believe that you would agree. But the adrenaline must have been flowing because despite agreeing that there was no way in h---, umm, the hot place that we were dwelling in at the time... were we going to use an electric oven inside. It took about another half hour of heated discussion as to how to stop unpacking and get ready to go and get into the car and find Teriyaki Chicken.
Fast forward to Labor Day Weekend. We are now rather used to the area around us and have found a place for most everything. It's time for some exploring. This is the reason we moved to Washington the first time. It's the reason we moved to Washington the second time - exploration.

Our first wanderings took us to Mt. St. Helen's on the first Friday evening after our move. This was also the first evening that it wasn't raining all that week. Yes, It does rain all the time in the Pacific Northwest. If you don't believe that, read my friend, John's blog about visiting here and north of here last spring. (If you are NOT planning to move to Washington, then the story changes. We have two seasons rainy and dry. Please, don't read this added stuff if you are thinking of moving to Washington for the outstanding mild temperatures year round, no snow shoveling, and unbelievable natural surroundings).

Getting back to Mt. St. Helens, our favorite shortened-volcano-due-to-activity. We took a hike up near Johnston's Ridge and came across a family of blue grouse, which we watched, close-up, for about 30 minutes. It was fascinating hearing the mother chirp continually to her chicks who were scavaging in the underbrush nearby. She stayed very close to us, or rather, didn't retreat from about 3 yards from us, for most of that time period. Fascinating. We have often been blessed with amazing encounters with wildlife while living in the Northwest. This was another in a long line of brief glimpses into what the Good Lord had in mind for us when he first created this place, I'm sure.

South of Mt. St. Helens is the Lewis River which has been dammed up to make a few reservoirs which lend themselves to camping, fishing, boating, and just plain gorgeous sunset reflections. Also along the south of the valcano can be found numerous waterfalls. The above pic is of Big Creek Falls, about 50 miles to the east of where we live (see the blog entry below this one for where I teach). Just a half mile away from this 4 star waterfall (see the Waterfall Lover's Guide to the Pacific Northwest) is place where this particular hiking path dead ends. The dead part is that it's on a cliff that must be about 2-300 feet above the river valley floor where the fall won't kill you but the the sudden stop might. The view from here is a marvelous 190 degree panorama that must be killer (stay back while looking) during the fall color routine. Once again, the Lord's creation is breath-taking, no pun intended.

Sneak Preview

Now that's kind of neat. I bet I could this pic on a recently seen website that gives a picture from maps.google and a couple of hints. Your job: find the same spot in the same magnification.

Weather Forecast Links

The DataStreme Project web site is from an online weather course provided by the AMS in cooperation with SUNY-Brockport. Explore the site for weather info, maps, satellite pictures, and links to NOAA info.

The 12-hour forecast map shows Lows, Highs, fronts, and predicted precipitation areas for the immediate future. You can find a link to this map, as well as one for 24, 36, and 48 hours.


The Pacific Ocean weather systems can be seen from this page that is updated hourly with images from the GEOS satellite. A pop-up link comes up which will allow you to see animations for the past 8 to 24 hours (or more). Click on the animation button on the bottom of the pop-up window, make your choice, and watch the pictures download, they will then show as an animation. Watching during the fall can show typhoons and hurricanes forming. Watching year round can show approaching fronts. You can tell the high and low pressure areas by watching the cloud rotation. When the rotation is clockwise, you have a high pressure area; counter-clockwise rotation shows a low.

Local Protests

I'm ready to make a sign and stand down near Percolator Park* in downtown Oly, Washington. My sign will proclaim: I'm not for or against anything, I'm just trying to get attention.

As we drive downtown, we regularly see the weirdos from the local university carry-on near the boardwalk and old biddies that dress in black in silent protest against the war. They are present whenever a military shipment is loading weapons of mass destruction or unloading military rations at the local port. They stand silently or chant boistrously whenever the papers run articles on our troops, many who are stationed at the nearby massive Army base between Olympia and Tacoma. Their demonstrations have recently made the local paper as some have been arrested for trying to cross the fence line and attack the soldiers who plan to go defend our country abroad.

Are the dissenters planning to beat the army with their 1" x 1" sign poles? Does this mean that they will force the army to no longer use force with, well, force? Will they have much success against the tanks and humvees? Do they think that because about 37 sign carriers with long, unwashed hair have a contrary opinion, some suit in D. C. will take note? Remember those beliefs don't take into account that the enemy of the US is also the enemy of Iraqis. These are the same Iraqi people who formerly could have been tortured for the very behavior shown by the demonstrators.

I compare the conduct of the local malcontents to a group of radicals in Northern Wisconsin about a decade ago. There was a sort of spring ritual surrounding the local tribes' right to spear spawning walleye right after the ice melted on the many lakes in Oneida and Vilas counties. One one side were the inhabitants of the Reservation and on the other were the fishing guides and the local fishermen claiming that the Indians were ruining the local fishing by overharvesting.

It was true that often many fish were found discarded in the underbrush after spearing sessions. These fish should have found their way into someone's freezer. But the fishing guides, with their electronic sonar, radar, and knowledge of the lakes' understructure were just as hard on the aquatic populations. The recreational fisherman shouldn't have sided with either, but protested vigorously and often found himself crossing police lines and landing in jail.

The state and national press loved it. All over the area, satellite trucks could be seen driving this way and that. The tribe's showboat mayor tossed them quote after quote, instigating the locals into a maddened frenzy. Taverns and restaurants overflowed with patrons who could only discuss the horrid practice of destroying the beloved walleyed pike. The spokesman for the locals, the proprietor of a local eatery, also got on teh tube regularly. It appeared that this was becoming more of an emotional media event for the fame of two leaders every April than anything else.

The county officials finally came upon a plan:

Load Limits.

No vehicles over a certain weight would be allowed on the county roads. These load limits mystreiously took into account the weight of those news trucks that hereafter would only be seen in downtown Minocqua at the lakeside hotel and the main drag of the Lac du Flambeau reservation. The news folks arrived in droves, but with no mindnumbing pictures of protestors willingly climbing into paddywagons after trespassing across the sheriff's caution taped boundaries, the numbers of the news vehicles dwindled. The other interesting part was that the owners of the reservation's new casino weren't inclined to allow their employees leaves of absences in order to practice the treaty rights they had had since a Supreme Court ruling in 1937. see The Lakeland Times August 19, 2003 story.

The protests were never the same. I realized that my suspicions were correct. The only real winners were the two local TV personalities, the names of either I can not remember clearly , nor can I even find using a web search.

Getting back to the local dissenters. They are getting what they want - attention. The war will go on, whether they like it or not. It will continue whether they contribute to the Repulican, Democrat, Green, Libertarian, or Federalist parties. It will continue until the terrorists are eliminated or take over the Pacific Northwest or California or Idaho or Wyoming or the Yukon Territories.

Protestors will continue to get the attention they crave. And our lives will be enriched because of it. I think I'll go and demonstrate against protests. Maybe I can make a sign that will pursuade the college students to get a job, or at least spend more time studying.


* note: Olympia's Downtown Heritage Park contains a water fountain with bursts of H2O in timed sequence which locals have named after the old-style coffee maker.

Another Day, Another Eruption

It's just amazing. How can we pick the days to see our favorite erupting volcano? A couple years ago, Ben and Kelly came to visit and picked the day to visit Mt. St. Helens on the day that it chose (or was chosen) to send an ash plume 30,000 feet into the air after settling down to very little activity for about four months.

Today, because I am off for spring break and the only day Dee could take off this week, we were able to visit this no-longer-dormant-volcano on what became a mostly sunny morning and early afternoon. As we turned the corner on hwy. 505 where Helen first is visible, we noticed a plume of steam. This had not been visible when we looked at the web volcano cam earlier in the morning before heading south.



By the time we got to Coldwater Lake, the plume continued upwards. We decided to go all the way to Johnson's Point, but were stopped by an "area closed" gate about two miles along. We pulled into the Hummock Trail parking lot and hiked inwards for about a mile getting closer to Helen, but were never able to get a clear view into the caldera. Nonetheless, seeing her vent gave us a thrill. It also made us realize that anything could happen. As we were walking, I got to an area where a sound made me jump. I looked about thinking that a lizard, bird, or small mammal might have been startled. There was no sign of any little critters around. I proceeded along the path and after discussing it, we think that we may have experienced a very small earthquake.
I don't know if I'll ever know. I'll try to find out if there were tremors on the mountain which saw a lot of geologists' activity via helicopter while we were there. As we got to the hummocks trail, we noticed them carrying some piece of equipment up toward the crater. About 20 minutes later, the chopper returned sans trailing machinery.
We noted three more trips out and returns. On a couple of those trips, we spied the helicopter circling over the dome and rim of the crater. This had to be some serious developments for the scientists to be that actively busy up there. That would lend credence to the earthquake theory.

Happiness is a new name tag

It's funny how a small piece of plastic can bring happiness.

This past week I had the distinct pleasure of being a substitute at a local Jr. High School teaching 9th grade math and science in one classroom from Monday through Wednesday and Geometry on Thursday and Friday. Since I have been hired as a substitute replacement for a ninth grade math teacher on maternity leave beginning Monday the 10th (after next week's Spring Break), it was a good thing to be able to get into the Oakland Bay Jr. High School in Shelton, WA to get a feel for the place that I would be working for the next 2 1/2 months.

As you may know, the substitute teacher is a bit lower on the food chain than plankton, but takes up a good deal more space. The front office loves the substitute as the farmer loves a full corn crib. The teacher justifies having one in their room because it's better to take a sick day at the golf course and get paid for it since this is in your contract. The pieces can always be picked up later; besides, it's fashionable to complain about how bad the sub was when you get back.

"Can you believe that she just handed out the worksheets and then played solitaire for the rest of the hour while the kids dismantled three light fixtures?"
"She'll never be in MY classroom again, I assure you!"
"He was so disorganized, he made Charlie Brown's friend Pigpen look like Richard Simmons on a good hair day."

The students find them fascinating. At first they walk into the room and ask," We have ANOTHER sub?" Then they ask when their regular teacher will be back. This is to get the sub used to the idea that the students hope he or she sinks lower than her nautical namesake. They then try out a few of the tried and true tricks.

"Can I use the bathroom?"
"Can we study in the hall?"
"Can I use the phone?"
"I have to leave ten minutes early from class today because I have a doctor's or dentist's or chiropractor's appointment."

"Do you have a note or permission slip?" asks the sub.

"My teacher never makes us have one," replies the young fork-tongued teen with eyes now turned narrow and stealthy.

The state of Washington expects substitutes to be state certified. This means that they pay upwards to 60,000 dollars in government loan dollars to make $17,500 during the school year and another 3300 bucks in unemployment during the summer. The employment agency, though, will hassle them for a month before releasing any checks so that the mortgage check requires an extra $50 for the late fees. The sub gets it from all sides - Makes you wonder if they are considered middle management with a plethora of pointy-haired bosses (see your comic section for a Dilbert cartoon).

Getting back to the part about the piece of plastic: Since I am going to be teaching in the same classroom for the rest of the year, I asked if I'd get to be a real person with a nametag that had my name on it or would I have to be a "guest" teacher for two months. The secretary assured me that my name tag had already been ordered. There was a bit of a backlog at the printers but he said it'd be there in a day or two.



Skip to Friday second hour. While I was teaching, in walked a student with a message from the office. Here was my name tag. I turned to the class and said, "Look, I'm now a REAL PERSON!" They gave me an ovation. Hmmm, I think I'm going to like it here.

extras for blog below

I refer to these two shots in the post below.

North Head

Once again, we hit Seattle right, weather-wise. On the first Sunday in November, we took off after church hoping for only a drizzle. The weather we got was phenomenal, considering the forecast for more of the same. It had rained for 12 straight days and we're expecting rain at least through Wednesday. It's been a very wet early winter. But there is a couple feet of snow up in the Cascades and the ski resorts are opening. Considering the brutal lack of snow in the mountains the last 3-4 winters, this is a very good start. We may even go cross-country skiing one of the next couple weekends.
Upon arrival, it was windy and chilly at Seattle's Discovery Park (north near Ballard), but surprisingly, the sun was streaming through the clouds. We put on sweatshirts, hats, gloves, and hiking boots for the one mile trek down to the beach. When the clouds started to move away from the Olympics in the background, I was delighted with the backdrop for this lighthouse sticking out into Puget Sound. All around the point were sailboats, working cargo ships, seagulls and cormarants, and even a couple wind-surfers in wet suits.
It's funny how you can start out in a chilly place and begin walking. Pretty soon you are wondering why you have on a heavy sweatshirt. Up and down the hills that slope toward the Sound make for a strenuous walk and soon you are, indeed, sweating. So even though it's called a sweatshirt, you really aren't interested in sweating, but "Perspire on, Hardy Soul!". Off come the gloves, hat, and windbreaker/rain jacket. They'll be ready for the windy point when we get down to the lighthouse.
It brings back memories of living in northern Wisconsin. We'd go to the Madeline State Park Cross-Country Ski trails after school and ski 5-7 km. The best temperature was around 5 degrees. You'd start out chilled and within 10 minutes, you were taking off gloves and the outer windbreaker because of how much energy you were putting out skiing. I don't recall kicking off the shoes though. I think I was doomed to have eternally cold feet. I'm just glad they didn't affect me 24 years ago. I would never have done so well in the marriage dept. It's hard to believe - 24 years.
The hike travels along the bluffs, which are actually giant sand dunes with soil on top. Looking at the small forest that we walked through, I'd guess these dunes have not moved for centuries. The hike is only a mile with an elevation drop of about 400 feet, I'm guessing. We reached the beach and moved along the drift wood. I had an inspiration for a picture using a depth of field technique. see blog above
We watched a couple guys wind surfing. After a while, a diver popped up near the jetty and took pictures of them from below. They tried to get action shots of them being lifted high after jumping. I didn't really plan my picture well and missed getting them in the air. The photo I got, though, was kind of funny. It shows lines from the parachute going down into a big splash. again, see blog above
On the way back, we had a great view of a shower coming our way across the sound. Here it is in black and white. In many of the digital photo mags that I read while at Barnes and Noble, there's been a growing interest in B/W shots. I've been toying with some with decent results.
I think I could write another two pages about Sunday. Maybe at a later time.
We both continue to be amazed at how much we have seen and experienced in Western Washington. It's said that Sheboygan isn't hell, but you can see it from there. Western Washington isn't heaven (try following our disgusting politics for proof), but I think we can see it from here. La Crosse County residents, You may claim to live in God's country, but this is his art studio.

Some days you just have to be at the right place at the right time. Such are the fortunes of a photographer, pro or amateur.

These two photos were taken within about 50 yards from each other, but about an hour apart. We were standing near the locks that connect Lake Washington to Puget Sound on the north side of Seattle. Of course, this is a relative explanation. For the guys on the tug boat coming off of Puget Sound, its the connection from Puget Sound TO Lake Washington. Some people are so narrow minded. This explanation is for those of you out there in Blogland, who need a precise explanation. You know who you are.

There are two parks on either side of the dam that separates these two bodies of water. On the north side, near the locks is the Army Corps of Engineers park and flower garden. I call it a flower garden because the government spent a lot of money for the signs that say just that. Without the signs, it's just a park with some paths that have about five plots of flower beds; not what comes to mind when you see numerous signs touting "gardens". Since it's their park, their signs, and a relatively cheap way to enjoy an hour or so hoping to witness a boat accident among high priced boats and the snooty people who own them, I'll call them flower gardens.

As stated earlier, the Army Corps of Engineers built the locks and operate them. There are two areas for boats to moor while descending or ascending to their desired navigable destination. The large area on the north is about the size of a couple narrow football fields, while the smaller one takes up the square footage (in liquid terms) that would round out the two-football-field analogy.

One must both cringe and inwardly smile the way one of the four to five attendants treat the operators of the private craft that give the impression of being less than skilled at fine-tuned navigation. From the way he snarls at the boats that take too long to decide whether they will wait for the next lockage to the smirks and condescending advice thrown at those who can't decide whether to tie their ropes on both stem and stern or one or the other. He give the impression that he both dislikes his job AND enjoys the sarcasm enormously. The fumbling and bumbling of some of the pilots is in front of about 50 to 150 onlookers from above.

One such inaptitude was witnessed toward the end of our visit to the locks and the fish ladders located on the south of the dam. We were on our way back to our vehicle when we noticed a singe pilot having difficulty maneuvering his sailboat out toward the Sound after being lowered in the locks. Why he was all alone, one can not know. My guess is that he couldn't wait to get out on his new/used boat despite his wife telling him that she wouldn't put her life in his hands until after he took sailing lessons. Another possibility was that his friends decided that they would no longer put their lives in his hands after traveling with him by water on previous outings. Either way, he was not a master of the seas. He simply took a long time to get out of the chamber. In his defense, a lady next to us who was watching, too, mentioned that it was not as easy as it looked since there were strange currents near the locks and dams. He was making a case for her explanation.


Once he finally got clear of the locks, he drifted off to the south near the fish ladders and the netting installed to steer the salmon toward them. He had the nets cleared, narrowly missing them the first time. But he was not to be denied. Looking closely at the bottom picture you can see that his boat is right on top of the end of the floats that held up the netting. He sat there for quite some time before another boater happened along-side. I can only assume that he eventually got help, but the harbor patrol was probably not in a hurry to get there, since the only danger that he was in was one of dying of embarrassment. Remember, it was a gorgeous day and those 50 to 150 people on the locks were about 1/3 of those visiting the parks at the time.

One other bonus for visiting this area is to peer into the viewing windows located to see the salmon and other fish using the fish ladders, unique in two ways: a rare fish ladder where salt and fresh water meet, and; an uncommon viewing area at a fish ladder. Many of life's best things to do are free. In Seattle, this is a favorite destination, along with viewing the surround area from Queen Anne Hill, and shopping a people watching at the Pike Street Market.

Salmon and a Sunset

Our Sunday afternoon and evening trip to Seattle finally gave us some time to relax. I've been training to sell appliances at a major player in the dept. store scene. And weekend trips will be harder to come by until after Christmas. We visited the locks and fish ladder at the entry to Lake Washington. It's the only fish ladder where fresh and salt water meet, we are told. The viewing windows shows Chinook and Sockeye salmon swimming upstream.
A trip to the Pike Street Market gained another bouquet of flowers for our counter. The purple and yellow dahlias are great.
Now that the sun is setting earlier in the evening, we waited for dusk. This is not really possible in the summer as the twilight and sunset are both late. Getting home after them is not pleasant. In any event, I finally was able to take some night shots of the city. Turned out pretty good, I'd say.

The park on Queen Anne Hill is on Highland St (or Ave. Or parkway or something). A three block walk to the west gets you to the west side of the hill which gives a nice view of the Olympics, Puget Sound, and some large marinas. The sunset there is also pretty nice.

Go Hike to a Glacier

I should have picked up one of the rocks from this glacier to give to my friend, Dave Allerheiligen for his rock garden. On second thought, he can get one when he visits.
We finally got a chance to hike up the Carbon River to its source, the Carbon Glacier on Mt. Rainier. In altitude, this is the lowest lying glacier in the lower 48 states. I think it is also the longest. It was amazing to watch the end of the glacier, or snout. Lots of small, medium, and large rocks tumbled down from the top or from within the glacier as it melted. One such boulder, much larger than a pickup truck was suspended in the glacier, with about 80 percent sticking out from melting.
Just before we left there, that HUGE (emphasis VERY LARGE) boulder sticking out at about 100 feet above the valley floor came tumbling down the "snout" of the glacier. I have photos of rocks suspended in the glacier that would probably fall out as the glacier melts. After teaching about it and learning about it near the Kettle Morraines of Wisconsin, I now have experienced first hand what that means. Way Kewl! Yesterday's hike was outstanding.
In the photos below, one of the walls of the glacier has some of those rocks highlighted. On the one of the entire glacier "snout" find the huge boulder to the upper right above and to the right of the cave on the right. For perspective, those cave entrances are approximately 30 - 40 feet tall.

More or less waiting

Waiting. The waiting has been frustrating. No word from the textbook company and no mail from the online school has been received. Being unemployed gives you a bit too much time to think about what you aren't doing. There's very little chance to go golfing since there's no bucks with which to do it. So you keep on filling out endless resumes and work applications which are filed in someone's office, never to be seen again until they're purged in six months.
So it's off to part time work. I'll be starting to learn how a large tutoring concern teaches their clients for a couple hours. I will also try to find a morning p/t job to fill in the gaps. I'm trying to be patient and not lose faith.

The thing that is most difficult is not having the gas money to go up to the Olympic penninsula or the coast as often on weekends as we'd like. Fortunately, we can go over to the Nisqually WIldlife Refuge, maintained by the US Wildlife agency. It's admission is part of our Golden Eagle passport, which also gets us into the National Monument Buildings at Mt. St. Helens. It's only $15 more than the National Parks pass. These are the types of taxes that I don't mind paying. I can see my dues at work.

The picture is one of about four Blue Herons that were near the 5 mile walking path.