Things Change, Part 35212345...

I caught this little snippet from an article in the Union-Tribune:

Fire isn't the only problem facing San Diego County's choose-and-cut tradition.

Farmers are getting older. Most members of the state's Christmas tree association are over 50, Minturn said. The latest victim of age is the 20-acre Van Winkle's Tree Farm in Jamul. For the first time since the mid-1970s, Van Winkle's won't be selling Christmas trees, said Grace Van Winkle, 79. Van Winkle said her sons are taking over the farm from her and her husband, Alfred, 81, and the younger generation decided to focus on the year-round business of nursery plants.

“Our sons didn't have time,” she said.

Every time we leave or return to our home in Lawson Valley, we pass the Van Winkle farm. Ever year until this year, there's been a cheerful little sign along Lawson Valley Road, directing Christmas tree seekers through the side roads to Van Winkle's farm, where they could choose and cut their own tree. We did that many times, starting from before we moved out here.

No more. This year there's a simple, hand-painted sign telling us that the Van Winkle farm no longer has any Christmas trees. They must have been tired of their returning customers showing up, expecting to buy their tree this year. The Van Winkles also used to run a delightful little crafts store full of Christmas decorations; I suppose that's gone as well.

I can certainly understand the reasons that the sons have decided not to continue the Christmas tree farm. If it doesn't make business sense to continue it, then of course they should not. I don't have to like it, though…

Puzzler

The correct answer to last week's puzzler was “Gunter's Rule”. You can see one from my collection here.

For this week's question, we turn to natural history. Nearly the entire country of Estonia has a similar geological makeup: a thick layer of limestone covered by a thin layer of soil (which is chock full of limestone rocks). However, almost anywhere in Estonia you can find rocks (some as large as a house) made of a pinkish granite. These rocks are called “erratic boulders” by geologists, and they are more common in Estonia than anywhere else in the world. How did the erratic boulders get there?

As always, no fair googling…

There and Back Again...

Several of you actually noticed that I haven't posted for a few days – the reason was an evil illness (most likely some sort of food poisoning) that invaded my body on Sunday afternoon and didn't really leave until Tuesday. Yesterday I was feeling pretty puny, but at least not sick. Today I feel fine. It's always great when you're done being sick!

We've got an amazing amount of weather news at the moment. As I write, I'm watching high surf outside my office window – repeated sets of big, rolling breakers crashing into the beach. There's a gaggle of onlookers already (it's only 8 am here), marveling at the power, demonstrated. The forecast is calling for rain, and lots of it, starting late tonight and extending into Saturday. This comes on top of more than two inches just a week ago; from rags to riches, as it were. All sorts of related phenomena are predicted as well: lightning, waterspouts (aka tornadoes over water), flash floods, flooded lowlands, mudslides, rock slides, and caustic slides from the alkaline runoff coming from the recently burned areas. Even snow up in the mountains, above about 5,000 feet! Tomorrow it may be entirely possible to do some exciting body surfing in the morning (in the big surf) and then have a snowball fight in the afternoon (by driving 50 miles or so into the mountains).

I heard a discussion on the radio this morning between some forecasters who were speculating that the oncoming storm could drop as much as four or five inches of rain on us. If that actually happens, we'll have gone from parched conditions five weeks ago to sopping wet by this weekend. Quite a turnaround, and I'm sure hoping we see it…

Award Banquet...

Yesterday afternoon, Debbie and I drove up to Long Beach, California for the AKC Eukanuba Agility National show. Debbie could have run Mo'i this year, but chose not to – but there's no way she was going to miss the awards banquet, as this is where they handed out the certificates for the top agility dog in each breed. Last year, Mo'i was the top field spaniel in agility.

The banquet was casual attire, and indeed there were people there in everything from grubby blue jeans to something close to formal evening wear. Debbie wore her “Jamulian formal dress” – cowboy boots, a big bejeweled belt buckle, jeans, a fancy embroidered blouse, and a leather jacket. Earlier in the day she had her hair spectacularly curled. She looked great!

First there was an hour of cocktails, standing up in the lobby of the big meeting room. The noise was nearly beyond bearing; I could hardly hear someone yelling right into my ear. Most of the people in the room had run their dogs that day at the show, and there was much excited conversation; people happy with their runs, and people not so happy. Everyone in the room was an accomplished agility handler (or their signficant other) – a room full of very talented people, as became abundantly clear during the banquet.

After the cocktail hour, we all moved into the meeting room and sat down for our meal. The food was not memorable (is it ever at one of these?), but the rest of the experience certainly was.

First they showed a series of photos from the days run, apparently favorites of the photographer. As various dogs appeared, cheers erupted from different parts of the room. This was a lot of fun – we all got to see the top agility dogs in action, with the photos taken by one of the best photographers in the field. It was also a great ice-breaker; people were talking and comparing notes.

After this, our dinner was served, and the awards began. The announcer was up on a little stage, and she read off the champion dog in each breed, in alphabetical order by breed. For each champion dog, she showed a photo or two, read off some of the accomplishments of the dog, and called the handler or owner up onto the stage to receive their certificate. It was all very nicely done.

Each person walking up to the stage was treated with applause, cheers, and lots of congratulations along the way. When the alphabetical reading got to “field spaniel”, it was Debbie's turn. The photo above shows her walking off the stage just after having received her certificate. What fun!

My scanner is misbehaving at the moment, so I can't show you the actual certificate – but here's what it says:

The American Kennel Club
Special Award of Merit

Awarded December 1, 2007 for
Outstanding Performance in Agility

Top Field Spaniel 2006

Wolftree's Pearl King AX MXJ NF

owned by
Tom Dilatush, Debbie Dilatush

Madness...

Most likely you've read (or seen) the news story about British teacher Gillian Gibbons who was convicted in Sudan of “insulting religion and inciting hatred”. Thousands of Sudanese are protesting (see photo at right), demanding that she be executed instead of the sentence she actually received: 15 days in jail and deportation. The more moderate demonstrators are calling for 200 lashes in a public flogging, a sentence that almost invariably kills the convict. The blogosphere has nicknamed this the “teddy bear jihad”.

Ms. Gibbon's actual crime? She allowed her class to choose the name “Mohammed” for a teddy bear. Seriously – that's the only actual accusation made about her behavior.

Tigerhawk has my favorite observation about this madness:

As I've written before, I've grown quite tired of "Muslim rage." Piling into the street in anger over something like this is purely and simply barbaric, and Westerners who treat it as anything other than that do not appreciate the importance of reason to their own spiritual, cultural, intellectual, and economic heritage. We should either mix some Prozac into the relief agency rice or get out of that part of the world as quickly as possible.

Prozac is definitely needed, and in very large quantities. Given this set of facts, my father would quickly weave an elaborate story about fleets of surplus bombers delivering endless loads of Prozac, strewing the drug in powdered form anywhere Isamic madness showed up. That would be a lot of Prozac!

Botanical Beauty...

Another beautiful botanical photo from Botany Photo of the Day. This time it's Eryngium creticum (whatever that is!).

Rain: 2.35 Inches!

The graph at right tells the story: 1.05 inches on Friday, and 1.3 inches on Saturday, for a storm total of 2.35 inches. The time scale on the graph at right is GMT, so in local time most of the rain actually occured on Friday.

But who cares? The big news is that we had rain, so so much of it! The forecast as of Friday morning was for 1/2 inch to 1 inch in the mountains, and less toward the shore – so we were expecting perhaps 1/2 inch. And we'd have been very happy to get it. But 2.35 inches is like an over-the-top Christmas present. The chaparral is very thirsty after 7 years of drought here. But best of all is that most likely this rain ends any serious fire danger in our area until next summer. I say this because in all likelihood we will begin our rainy season before the chaparral dries out from this rain – and then we won't get real dry until next summer's heat–

Rain!!!

We're getting rain! Wet stuff, falling out of the sky…

My rain gauge is registering about a tenth inch (2 mm) so far, and the real rain is forecast to hit us this evening.

The image at right is the current NEXRAD weather radar image, with storm cell tracking. All those storm cells, preceding the main storm – such a lovely sight they are!

I can scarcely believe it, this early in our rainy season, but – the NOAA forecasters are predicting as much as one inch (25 mm) of rain between now and tomorrow evening. Oh, how nice that would be!

Bill Is Going DOWN!

On the way to work this morning, I had an interesting and quite satisfying experience. I was driving north on I-5, just north of the I-805 merge, through moderately heavy traffic moving along at 65 to 70 MPH. In my rearview mirror I spotted a red pickup weaving in and out of traffic – no turn signals, jerky and largely unpredictable lane changes, and just generally looking extremely unsafe. As the pickup approached, I could see that the driver was a young man, perhaps 20 years old. He zoomed up in the lane to the left of me, abruptly changed lanes into my lane just in front of me, at which point I was staring at his tailgate just a couple of feet from my front bumper (and of course I braked hard at that point, just to get some space from this nutcase).

A couple of minutes later he was something like a half-mile ahead of me, still weaving and bobbing through the traffic – and a police officer nailed him, pulling him over to the left shoulder. As I approached the scene, I was pondering whether I should stop and offer a witness statement. Finally I decided that I should. Several other people had already stopped, and a few more stopped after me – perhaps 10 people in all.

The cop had arrested the driver, and had him in handcuffs in the back of the police car. The window was open, and the driver was fuming mad, saying all sorts of stupid things, such as some kind of incoherent threat about how he was going to get the cop for causing him to lose his job. What a moron!

But the cop was standing there calmly with a great, big shit-eating grin on his face, copying down contact information and brief statements from the line of people who had, like me, stopped. When it was my turn, and I had finished, I asked the cop what he thought would happen to the driver. He said (in my quote for the day):

Bill is going down!

“Bill” is the name of the driver he arrested, and it turns out that this was Bill's fifth reckless driving offense. But this time, according to the cop, was the first time that there were credible witnesses who were willing, if necessary, to give testimony. I'm not sure why that was, though I can say that Bill was driving in a particularly threatening and obnoxious manner, and that may have motivated people to stop. I have stopped before for such incidents, but I have also passed many by; something about this guy's behavior made me take the time to stop. I'm glad we all did – that will be one less lunatic on the freeway trying to kill me…

Big Kites...

Kites pulling cargo ships. Really!

Leapin' Lizards!

Well, leaping cats, actually. Here's a great photo collection of cats caught in mid-leap.

The Four Cats...

Sent to me by my mom, who knows my taste in humor:

Four men were bragging about how smart their cats were.

The first man was an Engineer, the second man was an Accountant, the third man was a Chemist and the fourth man was a Government Employee.

To show off, the Engineer called his cat. “T-square, do your stuff!” T-square pranced over to the desk, took out some paper and pen and promptly drew a circle, a square, and a triangle. Everyone agreed that was pretty smart.

But the Accountant said his cat could do better. He called his cat and said “Spreadsheet, do your stuff!” Spreadsheet went out to the kitchen and returned with a dozen cookies. He divided them into 4 equal piles of 3 cookies. Everyone agreed that was good.

But the Chemist said his cat could do even better. He called his cat and said “Measure, do your stuff!” Measure got up, walked to the fridge, took out a quart of milk, got a 10 ounce glass from the cupboard and poured exactly 8 ounces without spilling a drop into the glass. Everyone agreed that was pretty darned good.

Then the three men turned to the Government Employee and said “What can your cat do?” The Government Employee called his cat and said “Coffee Break, do your stuff!” Coffee Break jumped to his feet and...
...ate the cookies,
...drank the milk,
...shit on the paper,
...screwed the other three cats,
...claimed he injured his back while doing so,
...filed a grievance report for unsafe working conditions,
...put in for Worker's Compensation,
...and went home for the rest of the day on sick leave!

The first thing I thought after reading this was “John Murtha”…

Puzzler...

Well, the last puzzler apparently wasn't all that puzzling: everybody who answered was at least close. If you're interested in the story of the cargo ship SS Mayaguez, you can read about it here.

Meanwhile, here's a new puzzler:

As long ago as the late 1600s, Europeans were using a straight piece of material (usually wood, sometimes ivory or brass) much like a ruler with special markings to make all sorts of calculations, including multiplication, division, trigonometry, and logarithms. This device was normally used in conjunction with a pair of dividers (a compass with two metal points). It was as ubiquitous amongst the engineers and scientists of the day as computers and calculators are today – but today it is virtually unknown and unheard of. What was this device called?

Quote of the Day

Simon M. sent me a link to this article. The comments to it contain my quote of the day, by someone going by the handle “Billy Bob Henry”:

Anyone that thinks global warming is flase needs a lobotomy..

Ignoring the misspelling and the amputated ellipsis for the moment, the commenter encapsulates quite nicely the philosophy – and the “science” – of the true believers of the anthropomorphic global warming faith. We're supposed to blindly believe their high priests (Gore and Hansen) and the climate models. At the same time, we're supposed to dismiss all the actual evidence that questions the assumptions and conclusions that go into those models. Oh, and we're supposed to throw away common sense as well – so that when someone points out that (for example) the polar bear population is actually higher now than ever before in recorded history, so using their declining population as evidence of the impact of global warming is, well, bogus – we're supposed to dismiss that as the ravings of some sort of lunatic fringe.

Otherwise, we need a lobotomy.

I think it's more like this: those who blindly keep faith with anthropomorphic global warming while ridiculing its critics are anti-scientists who are acting like they've already had a lobotomy. I say “anti-scientists” because the very essence of science includes skepticism and debate (along with evidence and verifiable tests or predictions). Listen to Jim Hansen and his crowd, and you see precious little of anything I can recognize as science – and a whole lot of self-serving fear mongering that I believe is carefully calculated to increase their funding…

More Feasting...

Debbie and I went a little crazy with the cooking this year. For four successive days we've feasted on some luscious dishes...

We had about a pound of lobster meat left over after our Thanksgiving Day meal, so on Friday I made lobster rolls. For those of you who may be (sadly) unfamiliar with lobster rolls, this is a traditional American dish from the northeast (especially Maine). Many people believe this is the very best way to enjoy lobster. There are almost as many recipes for lobster rolls as there are people who make them; about the only things I can see in common between them are these: (1) it's all about the lobster; other ingredients are kept to a minimum, and (2) they need to be on toasted rolls.

Being on the West Coast, we can't just go down to our grocery and buy lobster rolls in the bakery section of the grocery store. Hot dog buns are just not good enough. So we made a “San Diego substitution”: we used Dudley's potato bread, grilled in butter to toast them. The filling I made by roughly chopping the lobster meat into about 1/2” pieces, then adding some finely chopped celery and chives (not much of each), a little mayonnaise, and some chopped tarragon. I wanted to use fresh tarragon, but we were out – so I rehydrated some dried tarragon in a little lukewarm water, and it did quite nicely (you have to have the dried tarragon that's in little pieces, not the powdered type, for this to work). That's it! We just mixed those ingredients, piled it high between a couple slides of grilled potato bread, and feasted. My oh my, that was good!

On Saturday we roasted a small turkey. Debbie made a fine white gravy with the giblets and drippings, and we had open-faced roast turkey sandwiches, on toasted potato bread, with gravy. Yum! And then on Sunday I made broth from the leftover turkey bones, and Debbie turned it into tlapeno (a traditional Mexican soup) made with turkey instead of chicken. She's made this dish quite a few times, and this was her best yet – a simple, clear-broth soup redolent of turkey, full of tasty ingredients with a great texture. Naturally, being Debbie, she made vast quantities of the stuff – we could have fed a significant number of Marines with it! But it was just the two of us, so now there's a wonderful, giant-sized container in the refrigerator chock full of this delectable stuff.

I suspect we're both going to take a few days off from cooking…

Thanksgiving...

America's Thanksgiving Day has a long history, back to the earliest days of this country. While many Presidents (including George Washington) promoted and endorsed the holiday with proclamations, it was President Abraham Lincoln who started the current unbroken string of proclamations by every President who succeeded him. His proclamation was made on October 3, 1863:

I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens. And I recommend to them that while offering up the ascriptions justly due to Him for such singular deliverances and blessings, they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to His tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and to restore it as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquillity and Union.

Debbie and I have much to be thankful for this year.

First and foremost on our minds is the fact that we and our home survived the horrible fires of three weeks ago, completely unharmed.

Our beloved animals – eight cats and three dogs – are all healthy and happy.

Our health is excellent, aside from the unavoidable side effects of our advancing age.

I make a good living in a job that I greatly enjoy. We've never known hunger, poverty, or lacked for anything truly important.

We live in the greatest country on earth – despite it's abundant flaws, there's nowhere I'd rather live. Not one of the hundred or so countries I've visited has ever even tempted me.

And we are very thankful on this day for the soldiers and sailors who are in harm's way on this day of thanksgiving, voluntarily engaging this country's enemies in mortal combat. Those fine, brave men and women seem to percieve the existential threat posed to our country by Islamic fundamentalists with far greater clarity than many Americans who are safe and snug in their homes today. Every time I meet one of these soldiers or sailors who have served in Iraq or Afghanistan (and that happens fairly often here in San Diego, as we have many military bases here), I try hard to find the time to get to know them a bit. Most of all, I make a it a point to thank them for their service. They stand between my loved ones and Al Queda (and its ilk), and for that they have my eternal gratitude…and they should know it. I hope you'll do the same…

Sated...

Debbie and I just finished our Thanksgiving feast, which was spread out over several hours. It was just the two of us today – a delightful, quiet holiday together.

Being certifiable weirdos, we didn't have a “normal” Thanksgiving meal. No turkey, gravy, dressing, pies, cranberry sauce, or corn for us. Nope, none of that stuff. Instead, we had a seafood feast – and what a feast it was!

As an appetizer, we had fresh Atlantic sea scallops. Debbie has developed this into a fine, and refined, delicacy: broiled briefly, in a shallow pan, with butter, garlic, and dill. They are so good you'll think your brains fell out!

We drank champagne through the whole meal – Moet Chandon White Star. Excellent tipple.

For our main course we had a specialty of mine: Atlantic Lobster a l'Americaine (using a recipe from Julia Child). We started with three 2 lb. female Maine lobsters, shipped live from the wonderful Young's Lobster Pound, in Belfast, Maine (we got the scallops there as well). All three of them had roe, so we had plenty of coral and tomalley to flavor the dish. The sauce is a reduction sauce that starts in a manner that still seems odd to me, though I've made this dish many times: you saute the shells (with some vegetables), and then boil them. The resulting sauce might as well be called “essence of lobster” – saturated with lobster flavor, and emitting an delightfully lobstery perfume. The sauce is finished with a tomalley/coral/butter paste and my favorite spice: fresh tarragon. The cooked lobster meat is sauteed briefly (with some shallots) in butter, then folded into the sauce. We served it over simple boiled rice.

For a vegetable we made a favorite: asparagus tips sauteed in butter. Simply glorious.

Now we're done – we've even cleaned up the impressive mess in the kitchen. We're full; beyond being simply sated, we are uncomfortable. Almost in pain. I'm drinking a cup of tea in the fond hope that it will settle down the battle in my belly.

Dang, that was a good meal!

And we have leftovers… Half the lobster meat is in the refrigerator, destined to become lobster rolls tomorrow. About half the sauce remains as well; don't know what we're going to do with it, but whatever it is, it will be wonderful!

Blogging will now be interrupted as I slip into a cholesterol-induced coma…

Nun in Hooters...

Jim M. passes this along:

A nun, badly needing to use to the restroom, walked into a local Hooters. The place was hopping with music and loud conversation and every once in a while the lights would turn off.

Each time the lights would go out, the place would erupt into cheers. However, when the revelers saw the nun, the room went dead silent She walked up to the bartender, and asked, "May I please use the restroom?"

The bartender replied, "OK, but I should warn you that there is a statue of a naked man in there wearing only a fig leaf."

"Well, in that case I'll just look the other way," said the nun.

So, the bartender showed the nun to the back of the restaurant. After a few minutes, she came back out, and the whole place stopped just long enough to give the nun a loud round of applause. She went to the bartender and said, "Sir, I don't understand. Why did they applaud for me just because I went to the restroom?"

"Well, now they know you're one of us," said the bartender, "Would you like a drink?"

"But, I still don't understand," said the puzzled nun.

"You see," laughed the bartender, "every time someone lifts the fig leaf on that statue, the lights go out. Now, how about that drink?"

I've never been in a Hooter's, so I don't know if they really have such a statue. But I hope so!

Joy of Aging...

Our friend Dick F., who (however improbably) is even older than we are, passes along these:

Two elderly gentlemen from a retirement center were sitting on a bench under a tree when one turns to the other and says: "Slim, I'm 83 years old now and I'm just full of aches and pains. I know you're about my age. How do you feel?"

Slim says, "I feel just like a newborn baby."

"Really!? Like a newborn baby!?"

"Yep. No hair, no teeth, and I think I just wet my pants."

An elderly couple had dinner at another couple's house, and after eating, the wives left the table and went into the kitchen. The two gentlemen were talking, and one said, "Last night we went out to a new restaurant and it was really great. I would recommend it very highly."

The other man said, "What's the name of the restaurant?"

The first man thought and thought and finally said, "What is the name of that flower you give to someone you love? You know...the one that's red and has thorns."

"Do you mean a rose?"

"Yes, that's the one," replied the man. He then turned towards the kitchen and yelled, "Rose, what's the name of that restaurant we went to last night?"

Couple in their nineties are both having problems remembering things. During a checkup, the doctor tells them that they're physically okay, but they might want to start writing things down to help them remember.

Later that night, while watching TV, the old man gets up from his chair. "Want anything while I'm in the kitchen?" he asks.

"Will you get me a bowl of ice cream?"

"Sure."

"Don't you think you should write it down so you can remember it?" she asks.

"No, I can remember it."

"Well, I'd like some strawberries on top, too. Maybe you should write it down, so's not to forget it?"

He says, "I can remember that. You want a bowl of ice cream with strawberries."

"I'd also like whipped cream. I'm certain you'll forget that, write it down?" she asks.

Irritated, he says, "I don't need to write it down, I can remember it! Ice cream with strawberries and whipped cream - I got it, for goodness sake!"

Then he toddles into the kitchen. After about 20 minutes, the old man returns from the kitchen and hands his wife a plate of bacon and eggs. She stares at the plate for a moment.

"Where's my toast ?"

A man was telling his neighbor, "I just bought a new hearing aid. It cost me four thousand dollars, but it's state of the art. It's perfect."

"Really," answered the neighbor . "What kind is it?"

"Twelve thirty."

A little old man shuffled slowly into an ice cream parlor and pulled himself slowly, painfully, up onto a stool. After catching his breath, he ordered a banana split. The waitress asked kindly, "Crushed nuts?"

"No," he replied, "Arthritis."

Flower Show...

My mom passed this along. When I was a young lad (in the last century), my family had a nursery, and displayed in the Philadelphia Flower Show each year.

Two little old ladies were sitting on a park bench outside the local town hall where a Flower Show was in progress. One leaned over and said to the other, "Life is so darned boring; we never have any fun anymore. For $5.00 I'd take my clothes off and streak through that stupid Flower Show!"

"You're on!" said the other old lady holding up a $5.00 bill. The first little old lady slowly fumbled her way out of her clothes and, completely nude, streaked (as fast as an old lady can) through the front door of the Flower Show.

Waiting outside, her friend soon heard a huge commotion inside the hall followed by loud applause and shrill whistling. The naked and smiling old lady came through the exit door surrounded by a cheering crowd.

"What happened?" asked her waiting friend.

"I won 1st Prize as Best Dried Arrangement!"