The Ridgecrest newspaper printed a special section the other day: photos of local babies born in 2009, their names, birthdates, and parents' names. Within the section there were also numerous ads for local businesses which included photos of new babies that had some connection with the business -- their parents worked there or their grandparents owned the business or whatever.
I scanned the pages eagerly, looking for weird names and kre8tiv spellings. Here are a few of my favorites (omitting the last names):
Sophealee Jean (how is that first name pronounced?)
Alissia Alissandra (ssssss)
Athena Nirvana
Jaize Lily
Talon Michael Louise (boy or girl?)
K'Naire Shyron
Araeh Sunshine
Preslynn Lillie
Makennah Rose
But actually there were more normal names than weird ones. There was even a set of twins named Henry and Matthew.
What I started noticing was the number of relatives listed with the babies. Not just parents in some cases, but grandparents, even great-grandparents. Little Jaize Lily up there was listed with her 2 parents, 5 grandparents (obviously a remarriage in there somewhere), and 7 great-grandparents. Seven living great-grandparents.
My babies have no living great-grandparents. And no living grandparents. The last grandparent died 7 weeks before they were born.
Little Jaize Lily also had her own display ad, because she's the descendant of a Machine Shop that shares her last name. Another baby, Addyson Olivia, is the descendant of an Insurance Agency. It appears that her mother, grandfather, great-grandfather, and great-great-grandfather all work or worked for the company. Her display ad tells when each one "came to the Indian Wells Valley." Great-great-grandad came in 1945 (presumably as an adult), great-grandad in 1948 (I assume that's when he was born), grandad in 1968, mom in 1989, and of course the new baby in 2009. In other words they're all about 20 years apart in age.
I was in my 40s when I had the boos. My mother was nearly 40 when she had me. Her mother was nearly 40 when she had her. You could have fit an extra generation in between each of us.
I don't really want to belong to a Ridgecrest-type family, with the generations so squished together and everyone living down the street from each other, but I wonder if the babies might like it.
Missing my sweet mother tonight.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
Snow and shopping
It snowed here a few days ago, first time in 6 years that Ridgecrest had measurable snow. When the boys got up from their nap I pointed out the window at it and they were absolutely astonished. We went outside and I taught them how to make and throw a snowball, but since they don't have mittens they got cold pretty quickly and we went inside again. The next morning it was gone.
But the mountains! Ridgecrest is surrounded by 4 mountain ranges. The really dramatic mountains, the Sierra Nevada, are to the west of us. North are the Cosos, east are the Argus Range, and west are the El Paso Mountains. The day after the snowfall the Sierras were just breathtaking, but so were the Cosos, which I don't usually pay a lot of attention to. Even the Argus and the El Pasos had snow on them. Today, 4 days after the snow, the mountains still look amazing. Stunning, even.
But beyond Ridgecrest's boundaries things are even more amazing. Yesterday we drove the 90 miles to Palmdale to kill some time, get out of town, do a little shopping, although I find that I never do much shopping under these circumstances. I am the sort of shopper who likes to drop by a store every few days, look around, buy one little thing, come back a few days later, buy one more little thing. I'm happy to go to the grocery store every day, or even twice a day. I don't like to do huge shoppings. I like to have relationships with stores. So even now, when I know I won't be back for a few weeks at least, I can't force myself. I walk through stores and I think, "I don't need that immediately." "I might need that in a week or two, but not now."And then I get home and I think, "what was my problem? Now I'm going to have to order it!"
Anyway, the 90 mile trip to Palmdale is sort of a boring drive, but the 90 mile trip back is very scenic. Lots more mountains are visible when you're heading east rather than west. And what might those mountains be? Well, I'm not sure. At one point it's definitely the Tehachapis, and then later I think it's the Piute Mountains, and of course the Sierras can be seen. All covered with snow this week, which outlines them, reveals the drama usually hidden behind their dull brown exteriors. Oh they are just gorgeous. Stunning, awe-inspiring, magnificent. You just run out of words. Oh my gosh, I say, trying not to swear in front of the babies, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, as each new vista presents itself for viewing. We got home just as the sun was setting, and as you go north on 395 just before Ridgecrest you get this fabulous view of the snow-covered Sierras, or whatever the heck mountains you're looking at right there, I don't care what they are, they're incredible, and the clouds streaked with pink in this absolutely enormous sky that we've got here. I don't know how anyone manages to drive safely with that kind of show going on outside the car. A day later I'm sitting at my computer in my dim messy office, looking east but all I can see is the next-door neighbor's house and a bit of sky, and I still can't get over what we saw yesterday.
I just can't get over the fact that I live in such an awful place and yet it has such celestial beauty.
But the mountains! Ridgecrest is surrounded by 4 mountain ranges. The really dramatic mountains, the Sierra Nevada, are to the west of us. North are the Cosos, east are the Argus Range, and west are the El Paso Mountains. The day after the snowfall the Sierras were just breathtaking, but so were the Cosos, which I don't usually pay a lot of attention to. Even the Argus and the El Pasos had snow on them. Today, 4 days after the snow, the mountains still look amazing. Stunning, even.
But beyond Ridgecrest's boundaries things are even more amazing. Yesterday we drove the 90 miles to Palmdale to kill some time, get out of town, do a little shopping, although I find that I never do much shopping under these circumstances. I am the sort of shopper who likes to drop by a store every few days, look around, buy one little thing, come back a few days later, buy one more little thing. I'm happy to go to the grocery store every day, or even twice a day. I don't like to do huge shoppings. I like to have relationships with stores. So even now, when I know I won't be back for a few weeks at least, I can't force myself. I walk through stores and I think, "I don't need that immediately." "I might need that in a week or two, but not now."And then I get home and I think, "what was my problem? Now I'm going to have to order it!"
Anyway, the 90 mile trip to Palmdale is sort of a boring drive, but the 90 mile trip back is very scenic. Lots more mountains are visible when you're heading east rather than west. And what might those mountains be? Well, I'm not sure. At one point it's definitely the Tehachapis, and then later I think it's the Piute Mountains, and of course the Sierras can be seen. All covered with snow this week, which outlines them, reveals the drama usually hidden behind their dull brown exteriors. Oh they are just gorgeous. Stunning, awe-inspiring, magnificent. You just run out of words. Oh my gosh, I say, trying not to swear in front of the babies, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, as each new vista presents itself for viewing. We got home just as the sun was setting, and as you go north on 395 just before Ridgecrest you get this fabulous view of the snow-covered Sierras, or whatever the heck mountains you're looking at right there, I don't care what they are, they're incredible, and the clouds streaked with pink in this absolutely enormous sky that we've got here. I don't know how anyone manages to drive safely with that kind of show going on outside the car. A day later I'm sitting at my computer in my dim messy office, looking east but all I can see is the next-door neighbor's house and a bit of sky, and I still can't get over what we saw yesterday.
I just can't get over the fact that I live in such an awful place and yet it has such celestial beauty.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Verdancy
Last night I was reading the NY Times online about the election in Massachusetts, and I got so depressed and angry about the Democrat losing Ted Kennedy's seat (and thus all Democrats in the country losing, and thus the country as a whole losing) that I flipped over to the "lite" news. And I read an article about how going green is breaking up relationships. Apparently it is very common for one partner to be more "green" than the other and this causes rifts. I can attest to this in my own life.
Although I think of myself as a fairly verdant sort of person, Rocket Boy is greener, by a long shot. Back in Boulder there was a woman in our neighborhood, Lisa Morzel, actually a City Council member, who didn't even have trash service, because she basically never threw anything away. She recycled, reused, composted, or just didn't engage with in the first place, everything. (OK I just looked at her website and it says "Generates less than 5 bags of garbage per year." Honestly.) RB aspires to be just like her. He saves large numbers of plastic bags and containers (this might be considered hoarding), he puts things in the recycling that are not on the "acceptable" list because he thinks they should be on the list, and he eats moldy bread and rotting leftovers to avoid throwing them away.
I try. I really try to be green and I really want to be green. But there are some things I just don't want to deal with. Laundry detergent bottles for instance. It takes so much water to get them clean! How is that a good thing, in this land of no water? Instead I save them up, and when RB is out of town on garbage day, I throw them all in the bin.
The article said that differences in green-ness are a problem because the more green person tends to act a bit sanctimonious about it and the less green person gets mad because, gosh darn it, I'm still a lot greener than the folks next door (or, as in our case, everyone else in Ridgecrest).
I just went back on the NY Times website to find the article again and I can't find it. But instead I found an article about, wait for it, a new kind of desert spider! "The spider, Cerbalus aravensis, was collected in the Sands of Samar, a dune area on the Jordanian border. C. aravensis is large by spider standards — up to five inches across....The scientists have yet to learn much about the spider’s habits, though presumably it consumes insects and, given its size, perhaps small geckos. But Dr. Shanas said time might be running out as its habitat was endangered."
My reaction to hearing that this spider is endangered was not as green as it might have been...
Although I think of myself as a fairly verdant sort of person, Rocket Boy is greener, by a long shot. Back in Boulder there was a woman in our neighborhood, Lisa Morzel, actually a City Council member, who didn't even have trash service, because she basically never threw anything away. She recycled, reused, composted, or just didn't engage with in the first place, everything. (OK I just looked at her website and it says "Generates less than 5 bags of garbage per year." Honestly.) RB aspires to be just like her. He saves large numbers of plastic bags and containers (this might be considered hoarding), he puts things in the recycling that are not on the "acceptable" list because he thinks they should be on the list, and he eats moldy bread and rotting leftovers to avoid throwing them away.
I try. I really try to be green and I really want to be green. But there are some things I just don't want to deal with. Laundry detergent bottles for instance. It takes so much water to get them clean! How is that a good thing, in this land of no water? Instead I save them up, and when RB is out of town on garbage day, I throw them all in the bin.
The article said that differences in green-ness are a problem because the more green person tends to act a bit sanctimonious about it and the less green person gets mad because, gosh darn it, I'm still a lot greener than the folks next door (or, as in our case, everyone else in Ridgecrest).
I just went back on the NY Times website to find the article again and I can't find it. But instead I found an article about, wait for it, a new kind of desert spider! "The spider, Cerbalus aravensis, was collected in the Sands of Samar, a dune area on the Jordanian border. C. aravensis is large by spider standards — up to five inches across....The scientists have yet to learn much about the spider’s habits, though presumably it consumes insects and, given its size, perhaps small geckos. But Dr. Shanas said time might be running out as its habitat was endangered."
My reaction to hearing that this spider is endangered was not as green as it might have been...
Monday, January 18, 2010
100 Books
Every year, on New Year's Eve, I write a list of accomplishments from the previous year and a list of resolutions (really "goals") for the coming year. The list of accomplishments includes things like: did not get fired, did not go bankrupt, survived. The list of resolutions includes the obvious: lose weight, save money, be a nicer person. Also, every year the list of accomplishments includes the number of books I read, cover to cover, and the list of resolutions includes the number of books I intend to read, cover to cover: 100.
I've only done it once, in the years I've been keeping count, and that was in 1981, when I was still in college. But I keep thinking I'm going to do it again. To read 100 books in one year one must read an average of 1.923 books per week. It is not hard to read 2 books per week if you work at it. It's just that it's hard to keep working at it, week in and week out, your entire life. Because even if I do manage to read 100 books this year, say, there it'll be on my resolutions list again next year: Read 100 books.
Last year I read 73 books, an average of 1.4 per week. That's really very good. In 2008, I read 14 books, 5 of them before the twins were born in March. A good year, but not for reading. In 2007, I read 44 books. In 2006, I read only 26 books. So 73 last year was very good, though I fear it was due to our move to Ridgecrest and the lack of stimulation from anything other than books.
I figure if I could read 73 books when I was so depressed last year I can surely do 100 this year. For one thing, this year I intend to count all the Barbara Pym books I read in February. Every February I attempt to reread everything Barbara Pym ever wrote. Last year was an aberration: I was so depressed in February that all I read was murder mysteries. But usually February is Pym month, and I usually don't count those books on my list, because they have been counted before. But this year I plan to count them, because it's still reading, right? If I go to the effort to read something from cover to cover, it should count. That's my new rule.
Today is January 18th, the second anniversary of my mother's death, and I have already read 5 books. They are, in order:
1. Missing Mom by Joyce Carol Oates. The title and subject matter appealed to me, but let's face it, I'm not an Oates fan. Still, some good stuff for those of us who miss our moms.
2. The Lost Art of Gratitude by Alexander McCall Smith. The latest installment in the Isabel Dalhousie series was, I thought, better than the last few, though none of them are very good and I don't know why I read them.
3. Two-Part Invention by Madeleine L'Engle. This is the book she wrote after her husband of 40 years died, about their life together. Supposed to be more fictional than her fiction. Not really worth reading, but some good stuff.
4. An Ornithologist's Guide to Life by Ann Hood. A book of short stories that Rocket Boy brought back from Clifford's house. I wonder what Clifford made of these and why he had the book. Some good stories, some not so good. I should try a novel by Hood.
5. Lost in a Good Book by Jasper Fforde. Just finished this today. I read the first Thursday Next novel a couple of years ago and always meant to read another. Fun, maybe went on a bit long. I plan to get the next one at the library this week.
Now I'm reading "The Wordy Shipmates" by Sarah Vowell, which may or may not end up being #6 for the year. It's all about Puritans, funny and interesting, yet a bit of a slog, and I keep falling asleep while trying to read it.
Stay tuned. I'll keep you (my faithful few readers) updated on my progress toward 100 books this year.
I've only done it once, in the years I've been keeping count, and that was in 1981, when I was still in college. But I keep thinking I'm going to do it again. To read 100 books in one year one must read an average of 1.923 books per week. It is not hard to read 2 books per week if you work at it. It's just that it's hard to keep working at it, week in and week out, your entire life. Because even if I do manage to read 100 books this year, say, there it'll be on my resolutions list again next year: Read 100 books.
Last year I read 73 books, an average of 1.4 per week. That's really very good. In 2008, I read 14 books, 5 of them before the twins were born in March. A good year, but not for reading. In 2007, I read 44 books. In 2006, I read only 26 books. So 73 last year was very good, though I fear it was due to our move to Ridgecrest and the lack of stimulation from anything other than books.
I figure if I could read 73 books when I was so depressed last year I can surely do 100 this year. For one thing, this year I intend to count all the Barbara Pym books I read in February. Every February I attempt to reread everything Barbara Pym ever wrote. Last year was an aberration: I was so depressed in February that all I read was murder mysteries. But usually February is Pym month, and I usually don't count those books on my list, because they have been counted before. But this year I plan to count them, because it's still reading, right? If I go to the effort to read something from cover to cover, it should count. That's my new rule.
Today is January 18th, the second anniversary of my mother's death, and I have already read 5 books. They are, in order:
1. Missing Mom by Joyce Carol Oates. The title and subject matter appealed to me, but let's face it, I'm not an Oates fan. Still, some good stuff for those of us who miss our moms.
2. The Lost Art of Gratitude by Alexander McCall Smith. The latest installment in the Isabel Dalhousie series was, I thought, better than the last few, though none of them are very good and I don't know why I read them.
3. Two-Part Invention by Madeleine L'Engle. This is the book she wrote after her husband of 40 years died, about their life together. Supposed to be more fictional than her fiction. Not really worth reading, but some good stuff.
4. An Ornithologist's Guide to Life by Ann Hood. A book of short stories that Rocket Boy brought back from Clifford's house. I wonder what Clifford made of these and why he had the book. Some good stories, some not so good. I should try a novel by Hood.
5. Lost in a Good Book by Jasper Fforde. Just finished this today. I read the first Thursday Next novel a couple of years ago and always meant to read another. Fun, maybe went on a bit long. I plan to get the next one at the library this week.
Now I'm reading "The Wordy Shipmates" by Sarah Vowell, which may or may not end up being #6 for the year. It's all about Puritans, funny and interesting, yet a bit of a slog, and I keep falling asleep while trying to read it.
Stay tuned. I'll keep you (my faithful few readers) updated on my progress toward 100 books this year.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Why someone might or might not want to live here
A couple of items in the Daily Independent (one of our two local newspapers) caught my attention this week. First, a letter to the editor in Thursday's paper concerning the recent vote to allow a new Super Wal-Mart to be built across the street from the current non-super Wal-Mart (which will then presumably become yet another vacant eyesore). The letter-writer was in favor of the new store because, she said, she is tired of driving to Lancaster to shop: "...we need doctors and other professional people to live in Ridgecrest. They don't move here because there is no place to shop. That is why most doctors don't live here even though we have beautiful weather."
It is good to know that doctors will be moving here by the dozens once we have the new Super Wal-Mart in place. However, an item in Wednesday's paper makes me question this: "After five years of serving the people of Ridgecrest, the Biblical Archeology and Anthropology Museum (BAAM) is moving to larger quarters in Van Nuys." What is this museum, Rocket Boy asked me, have you ever heard of it? No, I said, I haven't. So we looked it up online. I strongly encourage others to do the same. See http://www.baamonline.org/exhibits.htm. I particularly direct your attention to the "virtual tour." This wonderful museum will show you why modern archaeology and anthropology are all wrong. And we're losing it to Van Nuys! All those doctors are going to turn around and leave Ridgecrest immediately when they find out.
Sigh. In other, more important, news, the situation in Haiti sounds worse and worse. Talk about places one might not want to live, if one had the choice, that is. I just gave Oxfam America a donation for the relief effort. There are numerous organizations helping out, but I trust Oxfam, so chose them. You can text the Red Cross and $10 will go to them, charged to your cell phone bill -- that sounds like a good option, but I don't know how to text. (MUST pay attention and join the modern era one of these days.) A few years ago, my old book group read a very moving book about Haiti, Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder. An example of the power of the written word: when I heard about the earthquake I immediately thought about the people in the book and wanted to help them.
As for the Daily Independent, at least it has the power to amuse, if not usually intentionally.
It is good to know that doctors will be moving here by the dozens once we have the new Super Wal-Mart in place. However, an item in Wednesday's paper makes me question this: "After five years of serving the people of Ridgecrest, the Biblical Archeology and Anthropology Museum (BAAM) is moving to larger quarters in Van Nuys." What is this museum, Rocket Boy asked me, have you ever heard of it? No, I said, I haven't. So we looked it up online. I strongly encourage others to do the same. See http://www.baamonline.org/exhibits.htm. I particularly direct your attention to the "virtual tour." This wonderful museum will show you why modern archaeology and anthropology are all wrong. And we're losing it to Van Nuys! All those doctors are going to turn around and leave Ridgecrest immediately when they find out.
Sigh. In other, more important, news, the situation in Haiti sounds worse and worse. Talk about places one might not want to live, if one had the choice, that is. I just gave Oxfam America a donation for the relief effort. There are numerous organizations helping out, but I trust Oxfam, so chose them. You can text the Red Cross and $10 will go to them, charged to your cell phone bill -- that sounds like a good option, but I don't know how to text. (MUST pay attention and join the modern era one of these days.) A few years ago, my old book group read a very moving book about Haiti, Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder. An example of the power of the written word: when I heard about the earthquake I immediately thought about the people in the book and wanted to help them.
As for the Daily Independent, at least it has the power to amuse, if not usually intentionally.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Rain
It rained here this morning! Rocket Boy and I woke up a little earlier than the boys, maybe 6:15 or so, and there was a funny noise, like wind but not exactly like wind. I said, "is that rain?" and then I opened the window over our bed just a little and it was rain! Heavy rain! RB had to get up and get ready for work, but I, sloth that I am, just lay in bed and listened to the rain. "Are you going to leave the window open?" he asked pointedly and I said "YES!" so he left me to it (he gets cold easily, and of course there's the gas bill, but it was only for a little while). So lovely to have a bit of weather after weeks and weeks of nothing.
By the time the babies and I got up and had breakfast, the sun was out and the rain was gone. But when we went for our walk, around 9:30 am, there were huge clouds in the sky and the wind was blowing wildly. I managed to get the weather shield hooked onto their stroller (only the second time we've used it and the other time I had RB around to figure it out), so they didn't complain about the wind. The sandy ground was soaking up all that water as fast as it possibly could, but there were still a few puddles visible. More rain is predicted next week! Maybe this means we'll have wildflowers in April...
The new thing I do while we walk is sing "Here we are together" with the words adapted to what we're doing. ("Oh here we are together, together, together, oh here we are together, all going on a stroller ride... where's Pie Bear and Whiskers, where's Whiskers and Pie Bear, oh they are still at home now and Daddy went to work...") This is very popular with the boo bears and if I even pause for a moment they say "mah! mah!" (which means "more!) To keep it interesting ("interesting" being a relative term here), I add lines like "We might see a lizard, we might see a rabbit, we might see a quail, we might see a doggy, we might see a bicycle, we might see a truck...." When we pass another person on the path I stop singing, triggering an immediate chorus of "mah! mah!" I can't decide whether it is more embarrassing to have another person listen to me singing that dumb song or have another person listen to the boo bears saying "mah! mah!" Anyway, today there was almost no one out (too much wind, I suppose), so I sang the song a lot, and as I was heading back home I had the wind blowing right at me, and I was trying to hurry, and I was singing, and I got completely out of breath. A lovely walk, a lovely day.
By the time the babies and I got up and had breakfast, the sun was out and the rain was gone. But when we went for our walk, around 9:30 am, there were huge clouds in the sky and the wind was blowing wildly. I managed to get the weather shield hooked onto their stroller (only the second time we've used it and the other time I had RB around to figure it out), so they didn't complain about the wind. The sandy ground was soaking up all that water as fast as it possibly could, but there were still a few puddles visible. More rain is predicted next week! Maybe this means we'll have wildflowers in April...
The new thing I do while we walk is sing "Here we are together" with the words adapted to what we're doing. ("Oh here we are together, together, together, oh here we are together, all going on a stroller ride... where's Pie Bear and Whiskers, where's Whiskers and Pie Bear, oh they are still at home now and Daddy went to work...") This is very popular with the boo bears and if I even pause for a moment they say "mah! mah!" (which means "more!) To keep it interesting ("interesting" being a relative term here), I add lines like "We might see a lizard, we might see a rabbit, we might see a quail, we might see a doggy, we might see a bicycle, we might see a truck...." When we pass another person on the path I stop singing, triggering an immediate chorus of "mah! mah!" I can't decide whether it is more embarrassing to have another person listen to me singing that dumb song or have another person listen to the boo bears saying "mah! mah!" Anyway, today there was almost no one out (too much wind, I suppose), so I sang the song a lot, and as I was heading back home I had the wind blowing right at me, and I was trying to hurry, and I was singing, and I got completely out of breath. A lovely walk, a lovely day.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Liberals
Well, we finally met some other liberals in Ridgecrest. There's a group that meets once a month (sometimes they take the summer months off) for a potluck and socializing and discussion of some topic of interest. Rocket Boy heard about them through the local Democrats group and we finally managed to get ourselves invited to the January meeting, this past Friday.
I was so looking forward to it. Got a babysitter lined up, made a pan of brownies. Of course something had to go wrong and it did: I came down with a cold. I really shouldn't have gone, I was so sick. But I wanted to, so much. I just really really really wanted to spend time with some people who didn't vote for George W. Bush (either time) and who didn't belong to some fanatical Christian church and who maybe didn't even think it was so great to shop at Wal-Mart. So we went.
After such a build-up in my mind, I suppose it was inevitable that it was a little disappointing. I didn't find a soulmate. I didn't actually talk to very many people because I was trying to keep from spreading my germs.
Off-the-cuff observations: I heard several European accents. Of course. Of course a liberals group would be full of Europeans. The food struck me as very liberal: there were interesting salads with unusual ingredients, there was a bowl of brussels sprouts, there was a fish dish, there were many bottles of wine. (I tried to imagine what a conservative potluck would be like: meat and potatoes, potato chips, beer.) The house we were in was obviously inhabited by a Buddhist: prayer flags strung across the kitchen doorway, books about Buddhism on the coffee table, pictures on the walls, etc. The women, though nicely dressed, did not appear to be wearing a lot of makeup or hairspray.
Disappointments: almost everyone was old. We might have been the youngest people there, or nearly. Everyone I did talk to seemed to like it here. I had so been hoping to meet someone who doesn't like Ridgecrest either. The discussion wasn't very stimulating. They were talking about a solar energy project that is planned for an area of the desert where there are a lot of desert tortoises and other animals. I was glad to learn about the problem and do plan to write a letter to the relevant authorities, etc., etc., but there wasn't much scope for argument, if you see what I mean. They were preaching to the choir.
But it was nice to be a member of the choir, for once, in Ridgecrest.
And there's always next month.
I was so looking forward to it. Got a babysitter lined up, made a pan of brownies. Of course something had to go wrong and it did: I came down with a cold. I really shouldn't have gone, I was so sick. But I wanted to, so much. I just really really really wanted to spend time with some people who didn't vote for George W. Bush (either time) and who didn't belong to some fanatical Christian church and who maybe didn't even think it was so great to shop at Wal-Mart. So we went.
After such a build-up in my mind, I suppose it was inevitable that it was a little disappointing. I didn't find a soulmate. I didn't actually talk to very many people because I was trying to keep from spreading my germs.
Off-the-cuff observations: I heard several European accents. Of course. Of course a liberals group would be full of Europeans. The food struck me as very liberal: there were interesting salads with unusual ingredients, there was a bowl of brussels sprouts, there was a fish dish, there were many bottles of wine. (I tried to imagine what a conservative potluck would be like: meat and potatoes, potato chips, beer.) The house we were in was obviously inhabited by a Buddhist: prayer flags strung across the kitchen doorway, books about Buddhism on the coffee table, pictures on the walls, etc. The women, though nicely dressed, did not appear to be wearing a lot of makeup or hairspray.
Disappointments: almost everyone was old. We might have been the youngest people there, or nearly. Everyone I did talk to seemed to like it here. I had so been hoping to meet someone who doesn't like Ridgecrest either. The discussion wasn't very stimulating. They were talking about a solar energy project that is planned for an area of the desert where there are a lot of desert tortoises and other animals. I was glad to learn about the problem and do plan to write a letter to the relevant authorities, etc., etc., but there wasn't much scope for argument, if you see what I mean. They were preaching to the choir.
But it was nice to be a member of the choir, for once, in Ridgecrest.
And there's always next month.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Fossil Falls
A new year, time to explore some new scenic spots near Ridgecrest. One of my best investments this past year was a stapled collection of pages entitled "Day Adventures from Ridgecrest" that we refer to as "the pink thing" (because it's on pink paper). Price $5.00 at the Maturango Museum except it was less with our member discount. It describes all the interesting things to do within a 3-hour drive of Ridgecrest (in all directions). It will take us a long time to do all those things.
Today we started by driving north on 395 for 60 miles to Olancha, where it turns out there is a restaurant after all, called the Ranch House Cafe. It's right on the highway. We had a delicious lunch there. I had a big bowl of chili and coffee, Rocket Boy had a veggie burger and a cafe mocha, Baby A ate potato salad, and Baby B ate chicken strips and french fries. (Price with tip: $37.) They had 7 kinds of pie available, but we decided to get out before the boo bears started screaming.
Then we drove back down south on 395 for about 22 miles to the turnoff for Fossil Falls, which is near "Red Hill," a volcanic cinder cone. We followed a rugged road for a short distance, and found ourselves in a small parking lot with only 1 other car (another arrived soon after and almost ran over Baby A). We put the babies' leashes on them and set off on the rocky .21-mile trail to the Falls.
The Falls are dry, but during the Pleistocene, the Owens River ran through them as the glaciers melted. The whole area is extremely dry and desert-y, strewn with big black volcanic rocks. The babies really like rocks, and they kept stopping to pick them up. They insisted on hiking with their hands full of rocks.
At the so-called Falls, there were numerous potholes in the smooth rocks, some with rain water in them. The babies kept climbing in the holes. After playing for a while we walked back. The babies really did very well on the .42-mile round trip, but periodically they would just sit down on a rock, which we assumed meant they were tired. Then we would pick them up and carry them.
I wonder how long it will be until we don't have to carry them on hikes anymore. How long until they run way ahead of us, how long until they can hike farther than I can? Time passes so quickly.
Today we started by driving north on 395 for 60 miles to Olancha, where it turns out there is a restaurant after all, called the Ranch House Cafe. It's right on the highway. We had a delicious lunch there. I had a big bowl of chili and coffee, Rocket Boy had a veggie burger and a cafe mocha, Baby A ate potato salad, and Baby B ate chicken strips and french fries. (Price with tip: $37.) They had 7 kinds of pie available, but we decided to get out before the boo bears started screaming.
Then we drove back down south on 395 for about 22 miles to the turnoff for Fossil Falls, which is near "Red Hill," a volcanic cinder cone. We followed a rugged road for a short distance, and found ourselves in a small parking lot with only 1 other car (another arrived soon after and almost ran over Baby A). We put the babies' leashes on them and set off on the rocky .21-mile trail to the Falls.
The Falls are dry, but during the Pleistocene, the Owens River ran through them as the glaciers melted. The whole area is extremely dry and desert-y, strewn with big black volcanic rocks. The babies really like rocks, and they kept stopping to pick them up. They insisted on hiking with their hands full of rocks.
At the so-called Falls, there were numerous potholes in the smooth rocks, some with rain water in them. The babies kept climbing in the holes. After playing for a while we walked back. The babies really did very well on the .42-mile round trip, but periodically they would just sit down on a rock, which we assumed meant they were tired. Then we would pick them up and carry them.
I wonder how long it will be until we don't have to carry them on hikes anymore. How long until they run way ahead of us, how long until they can hike farther than I can? Time passes so quickly.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)