serendipity

How many red-tail hawks do you see?

Rlghawk

A pair of red tail hawks has decided to nest on top of our office building. They are quite beautiful, and I love to watch them soar and swoop in the sky above and around the building. However, something tells me that if they make little babies, life around here will be a little more dangerous -- for all involved.

I like this photo because of the optical illusion it creates - there is really only one bird.

words of wisdom from Nancy Drew

Since it's Friday, and a mere three hours away from cocktail hour (but who's counting), here is some food for thought from Nancy Drew:

"It's important to take time out to have fun with your friends, particularly if they spend considerable time doing your bidding." From The Clue in the Old Stagecoach

And from the Mystery of Crocodile Island we learn:

"If a bleeding, screaming man runs from shore and starts swimming frantically toward your boat, you should probably help him out. He might be escaping from cruel employers."

Finally from The Ghost of Blackwood Hall:

"When forging a letter to nab a perp, be sure to use grammar and spelling appropriate to the eduation level of the person you are impersonating."

Nancy Drew

an omen-ous sign

Stopped in traffic on 101 this morning, I spotted a new outdoor board. The background was black, and in reversed out text it read:

"6+6+06 The signs are everywhere"

My first thought was "crap. more apocolyptic bullshit."

Back at the office and a couple of clicks later, I found this:

Along with this news story that had the air force investigating plane banners that scared the hell out of everyone as they flew over Daytona Beach, Lake Havasu and South Padre Island, TX during spring break.

So what is it? A movie promo for a remake of the Omen.

I live in earthquake country

As much as I curse the traffic, the crowds, the rain, the housing prices, the cost of living, the unethical ban on commercial biodiesel, the lack of parking and the freaking traffic in the Bay Area, there is still no place else I want to live.

The ocean is a couple of miles this way, the mountains, a couple of hours that way. You want the desert? Well that's on the way to the mountains.

Within 5 hours of here you can snow ski, water ski, hike, camp, hunt, fish, sleep on houseboats, pick mushrooms, look for indian artifacts, see herds of antelope or simply drive on roads where no one has been for hours, sometimes days, at 85 105 miles an hour.

As Devil's Slide and today's 1906 centennial remind us, California is going to fall into the ocean one of these days in spectacular fashion.

Even that will beat living in Alabama.

Escape from Birmingham

I’m on the last leg home, Denver to San Francisco, and we are in the back of the plane with the other parolees, er parents. There are at least 4 infants and a dozen kids under the age of 8. Most of them are behaving well, except for the little boy in front of us who is in love with Juju, and one of the infants who cannot stop screaming, poor thing. She is with her father and he clearly hasn’t slept in awhile. I feel so sorry for him. The non-parents hate him, the parents are overly empathetic (pitying) and all he really wants is to sit and rest a little. But he can’t because the moment he stops moving she will start screaming again. He walks the aisles like a man living in the Twilight Zone. Boy, am I glad to be through with that stage.

We began this trip at the United counter, only to walk a mile to board our “operated by US Airways” flight. For the return home I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. I went straight to US Airways only to discover that we’re really on United this time (next terminal please). This is typical of my travel karma: whenever I arrive late I always leave from gate 90 (farthest one at SFO) and if by chance I arrive early I leave from the first possible gate and wait for my plane which of course is late. My plane is never late when I am.

We were on a tiny little jet for the Birmingham-Denver flight. We got stuck with the most amazing asshole in first class (yes, there were 2 “first class” seats, and then 48 coach seats). This VIP insisted that the entire plane be kept at near freezing temperature to prevent him from becoming “deathly ill” with migraines. I might have believed him if I hadn’t seen him harassing the flight attendants, starting with the gate attendant, insisting that they do something (anything – now) special for him since he was a 1K member.

The flight attendants went around apologizing to everyone for the cold and handing out blankets. I finally complained that I could see my breath and that it was unfair to make children pay the price for one first class prima donna. The flight attendant went off about what a big jerk he was, how demanding he was and how they were thinking of calling the captain to intervene. I suspect a hanging party was being assembled because shortly thereafter they turned the heat on.

I understand when you are traveling on a big plane across the country or overseas that if you are entitled to perks you should get them. But when you are fleeing Alabama on a 50-person flying bus, well, you should just chill out like the rest of us and thank your lucky stars you made it out alive.

Next up: my own bed, a glass of wine, the kids in their own beds and the Sopranos.

Home sweet home.

Juju crashes in denver

Juju crashes in denver

04-16-06_1556.jpg

"Honk if you know jesus"

"Pull over if you don't "

religious side show

The picture doesn't really do the scene justice - this guy had posters, banners, signs and a microphone set up on the side of a major road in "celebration" of Easter.

Crazy little thing called Meth

Today I went to the Birmingham Wal-Mart. The idea was to buy Polly Pockets for the girls so that they could amuse themselves in my grandmother's apartment without torturing the cats (my sister thinks torturing the cats is wrong).

Everything down here is blooming and my allergies have been giving me a huge headache. 12-hour sudafed usually does the trick so I thought I would buy some at the Walmart pharmacy. I have bought enough sudafed lately to know that you can't just buy it off the shelf - it is no long "over the counter" because it is a main ingredient for methamphetamine - whatever the hell that is. I mean I watch tv, I know it's a drug, but what the hell does it do and why is it so popular with soccor moms?

I went to the pharmacy and asked her for a box. They didn't have the 12 hour version, and I had to practically torture the pharmacy clerk to get her to admit that in fact they did have the 24 hour formula. A box of 10 pills. And I couldn't just buy it like that.

First I needed to hand over, not show, my driver's license.

Then I needed to wait while she did some kind of background check to make sure that I haven't bought sudafed from them lately.

Then I needed to sign a form acknowledging that I was buying, gulp, sudafed, a controlled substance.

Next thing you know, there will be finger-printing and a cavity search involved. Maybe I should start thinking about allergy shots...

42, 64 and 86

Memaw, dad and me

Sweet home Alabama

Well, at least there is sunshine, blue sky and warm weather.

Temp

Sunshine, blue sky, warm weather and cops.

I used to think that California had a lot of highway patrol cops, er I mean officers. Until yesterday. Last night, during the 20-minute ride to pick my sister up from the airport I stopped counting the number of police cars - all with lights blazing - after TWENTY (20). That's a lot of cops. And they were not all in the same place (no visible accidents or donut shops), they were spread out in groups of three or four along the freeway.

I also counted four ambulances in the same amount of time. Back home I maybe see one ambulance a month. What is up with that?

Driving here is just nuts. For one thing the speed limit is often 55. Good God. For the second, there are waaaaay too many people driving UNDER the speed limit. The nice officers actually have to pull people over to tell them to drive faster for safety reasons (my grandfather was one of them).

Today I drove past one of those signs that tells you how fast you are going, with a note posting the legal limit. Usually I am a good 20 mph over that limit. (I know, but I love to drive and my car holds the road well). Down here I am driving a minivan, and my freeway speed was 44 miles per hour. I was one them - one of those people driving under the legal limit! Even as I finally passed the idiot who was blocking the fast lane I couldn't get the car to go more than 75.

Is it time to go home yet?