Tortoises again

We paid another visit to the Desert Tortoise Natural Area (DTNA) today. We were last there on May 25, 2009, at the end of the spring season, right before the tortoises were going to go down in their burrows for the summer. It was hot and dry and we didn't see any tortoises.

Today it was sunny, a bit cool, and unfortunately windy, and we didn't see any tortoises. They don't like wind.

Last May we pushed the babies along the sketchy trails in their BOB stroller. Today we thought we'd just put them on their leashes and let them walk. This proved to be a mistake. Rocket Boy has one arm in a sling due to a broken elbow, so he can't really carry anybody, and Baby A has an ear infection, so even though he's been on antibiotics for a few days, he's a little fussy. So guess who got to carry Baby A on the entire hike? I put him down each time we stopped at a trail number, but when I would start to walk on he would scream and I'd have to pick him up again. The problem was that he also screamed when I held him. It wasn't a fun walk for me or for him. RB and Baby B had a better time.

Wildlife seen: two lizards, a large black beetle, and several birds. Also, the plants that had been just dried up husks last May were covered with green leaves and tiny flowers.

The trails began and ended at a cement shelter that functions as an Interpretive Center, with benches to sit on and panels showing the animals and plants that can be found at the DTNA. I ran the last few hundred feet of the trail, carrying Baby A, who was screaming. When we got to the shelter I set him down and collapsed onto a bench. Baby A immediately stopped screaming, walked over to a panel that had a photograph of a desert tortoise on it, and said clearly "What is dat?"

We decided the problem had been the sun and/or the wind. As long as he was under the shelter he was just fine. Sigh.

After our hike we went to the trailer that functions as a little museum and visited with the DTNA naturalist, who we had met last year. He's a student at the University of Arizona and particularly likes snakes. We remembered him from last year, but the odd thing was that he also remembered us. He remembered that we lived in Ridgecrest and didn't like it. I said, "we like it less the longer we live there." He said, "People say that about Tucson too, but I don't understand it, they have the whole Sonoran Desert right there to explore."

I felt bad. Here I am with the entire Mojave Desert to explore, what am I complaining about?

In the trailer there was a green balloon, part of a display illustrating how long various man-made items last. Baby B spent his time lunging for the balloon, shouting "Ball!" The naturalist brought down some tortoise shells, and Baby A examined them thoroughly. "You've got a budding scientist there," the naturalist said. "Ball!" said Baby B, lunging for it again. "And a budding balloon man," I added.

We asked the naturalist if he had a recommendation for a place to eat lunch in California City and he thought for a moment and then said "No." So we went to McDonalds. The babies had Happy Meals with chicken McNuggets, apple slices, milk, and plastic two-headed dinosaurs. "Apple" is one of their new words. "Apple!" said Baby B, thrilled at the sight. "Apple!" said Baby A, also thrilled. "Apple!" said Baby B. And so went lunch.

After lunch we went to Jawbone Station to visit Mr. Bob the 110-year-old tortoise who lives there, but the lady behind the counter said he hasn't come out of hibernation yet. I went in with just Baby B because RB had to stay in the car with Baby A who had fallen asleep, but the lady recognized me anyway. "Oh, you have another one the same age, don't you?" she said. "And you have such a nice husband."

Our cover blown, we drove back to Ridgecrest.

Airports, big and small

I just got back from a quick trip to Boulder, BY MYSELF, no husband and no babies. First time I've been away from the boo bears overnight since they were born. It was quite something. I missed them desperately but even so, it was nice to be unencumbered, just for a couple of days.

On Tuesday I flew out of our own little Inyokern Airport, which was an experience in itself. Due to restrictions imposed by Edwards Air Force Base (which planes from Inyokern fly over), there are only 3 flights in and 3 flights out of the airport each day. They go to and from Los Angeles only. I decided to take the 5:07 AM flight, because it connected to the 7:18 flight from LAX to Denver, getting me in at 10:39. It hadn't occurred to me that I would have to get there by 4:00 AM, which meant I had to get up at 3:00 AM, which since the time change had occurred 2 days previously felt like 2:00 AM. But I made it. When I walked in the door at 4:00 AM, there were several people already sitting in the lobby.

It's a teeny tiny little airport. There's the ticket counter, and a rental car counter. There are maybe 4 rows of seats, maybe 6 seats per row? There's an x-ray machine and platform set-up for TSA. When I checked in, they told me to put my suitcase (which I was checking) over near the x-ray machine. Puzzled, I complied. Soon after, two TSA employees began hoisting suitcases up on the platform, opening them, and going through all the contents in full view of the dozen or so passengers. I was really glad my suitcase wasn't stuffed with pornography, contraband, or (more likely for me) chocolate.

After a while they announced that it was time to go to the airport annex, so we all got up and marched to another room where we had to go through security and then sit on more chairs until it was time to board. "Boarding" meant going out into absolute pitch blackness and walking quite a long way to the little airplane, with its brave little propellers. I wondered how many passengers they lose at that stage -- you could easily wander off in the dark and no one would know.

I had been looking forward to the view from the plane, but of course it was completely dark at 5:07 AM and all I could see was occasional lights when we flew over towns. We had a flight attendant, a man, and at one point he announced that he would be bringing a beverage cart around. I waited eagerly for this cart but never saw it, though I heard him rattling around in the back. As we approached Los Angeles he said he would be coming around to pick up people's trash, and he walked quickly down the aisle holding a large plastic bag which not one person threw anything in. Now I may have been dozing when he went down the aisle with his cart, but I'm suspicious that it never happened at all.

I successfully made my connection at LAX and flew to Denver with no problems. At Denver International Airport I collected my bag and got on the 11:15 bus to Boulder, all without incident.

Coming back two days later was something else again. My flight was supposed to leave Denver at 8:17 AM on Thursday, so I got up at 4:30 AM in order to catch the 5:27 AM bus (half a block from my house). That all worked well, but I was surprised to see so many people on the bus. Where were all these college students going? We arrived at DIA around 6:30 AM. I hurried to check my bag and then went to the security line. Denver is such an enormous airport, it is always smart to go through security as soon as possible because it can take quite a while. Well, that was particularly true this day. The line for security was so long, it stretched way back around the baggage carousels. I had seen it that bad only once before -- one Christmas when we'd had a lot of snow and everyone was told to go to the airport early. But what was going on this week?

Spring Break. A concept I'd almost forgotten about. All around me were obnoxious 18-22 year olds looking forward to a week of heavy drinking. Our plane to LA was enormous -- a 777 with 9 seats across. I was in row 38 (out of I think 40), in the exact middle of the 9-seat row. Oh well, I thought, it's only 2.5 hours. It turned out that our flight was delayed (mechanical problems), so it was 3.5 hours. But what a nice group of seatmates I had! No Spring Breakers whatsoever (although there were some in front of us, rudely reclining their seats into our faces). All five of us had a great time chatting, despite my worries that I would miss my connecting flight.

Then the horrors of the Los Angeles Airport. I did miss my connecting flight to Inyokern, and this was a problem because Rocket Boy was supposed to get on that plane and take it back to Los Angeles (on his way to Denver), so who would pick up the babies from daycare? The next flight to Inyokern would get me there at 8:00 PM; daycare closes at 6:00 PM and the twins were supposed to be picked up by 5:00 PM. I would have to drive instead.

So I called my secretary and told her to cancel my flight, then spent ONE HOUR in line waiting to talk to Customer Service (one very ill blond woman, coughing relentlessly) about the whereabouts of my suitcase. She sent me to Baggage Services to retrieve my suitcase. Baggage Services (one older Chinese woman) told me my suitcase would be sent on to Inyokern. "In 20 years I work here, always happen that way." On to Travelers Aid to ask where the car rental desks were. "Catch the shuttle out there!" an eager elderly Chinese man told me. When I told him I wanted to compare rental agencies, he directed me to a wall kiosk with phones that I could use to call the agencies. Inyokern only has two agencies -- Dollar and Avis -- so those were my choices. I could not reach Avis on the kiosk phone, so went with Dollar. Caught the shuttle, stood in line for half an hour, and finally rented a very small red car (a Chevy Aveo) which the high desert winds on Highway 14 blew around mercilessly.

Hours later I drove into the Inyokern Airport. It was 4:00 PM and the airport was closed. It closes every day from 1:00 to 5:30 PM. I parked my tiny red rental car in a Dollar spot, pulled out all the paperwork and my stuff and locked it. That was all I could do. There was no drop box outside the lobby. I retrieved my own red Subaru (parking is free at the Inyokern Airport, incidentally, and everyone can park within a few 100 yards of the lobby), dumped my stuff in it, and drove off to pick up the twins from daycare.

That evening, after dinner, the twins and I returned to the Inyokern Airport, which was open now. A small storm had kicked up out of nowhere and it was raining and blowing. I left the twins in the (locked) car and ran in to ask about my suitcase. The lobby was almost empty. I put the rental car keys and paperwork in the lobby dropbox and then explained about my suitcase. The woman behind the counter looked it up online and said "It's on the plane" (which was due at 8:00 PM, in 45 minutes). I said I would be back for it in the morning and went home to put the babies to bed.

Later that evening the woman called me to tell me my suitcase had arrived, and the next morning a different woman called me to tell me the same thing. I imagine those women behind the counter at the Inyokern Airport have a certain amount of free time.

The babies and I went back to the airport around 10:00 AM on Friday to get my suitcase, which the woman behind the counter happily fetched. I imagined that it had been opened and inspected a few more times since I'd last seen it, but I didn't mind. If people wanted to look at my dirty underwear to be sure it wasn't going to explode, that was OK with me. "Twins, huh?" said a young man standing nearby. "I'm a twin." "Oh, really?" I said, always interested to meet a twin. "Yeah, we had 3 sets in my family," he said. I wanted to say "Is your last name Duggar?" but resisted. Welcome to Ridgecrest. The babies and I took my suitcase and went back to our car. Baby A ran around a bit among the cars in the parking lot, but since none of them were moving I didn't worry about it. Eventually we all got in the car and went home and had snack.

Death of a conservative

I always read all the obituaries in our two local newspapers because I'm fascinated by people's life stories, especially in this area -- and by how those stories are reported by the families. But until this week I didn't know any of the people who had died. We're too new here, we don't know anybody.

This week, to our surprise, we saw a familiar name in the obituaries: Belva M. No, I can't say we really knew her, but we felt like we did because she was an inveterate letter writer. Letters to the Editor, that is. The woman wrote the most unbelievably right-wing nutter letters, worse than anyone. Rocket Boy and I read them with our mouths open. Her letters were works of art. I wish I'd saved them. I didn't realize she was about to die. I googled her just now and could only find a few of her letters online. The last was from October. I had just been thinking it had been a while since the last Belva letter and now there will be no more. Here's one I particularly enjoyed:

Our forefathers did not want any one religion (actually Christian denomination) to become the State Religion.
I promise you that they were not considering the possibility of any other religion being a challenge.
We were Christians or Jews, not Muslims or Buddhists or whatever.
As the great-grandparent of public school children, I’m reminded that having master teachers is not enough.
What are the teachers allowed to teach? Pick-pocketing?
Now the precious students are being taught to worship the president. How sad!
I, for one, would like to help Pres. Obama out...but impeachment isn’t easy.
He is leading our children too far to the left...they will all be “left” behind. Do what’s right!
We must get God back in the schools!! Or our children out of government schools. God help us!!!
Do Pray!!!

She particularly hated President Obama and often wrote about him. (Once, in an amusing exchange, an apparent friend of hers wrote in to the newspaper to complain about one of her letters, saying "Belva, show some respect, he is our president!") She also liked to reminisce about her teaching experiences. She was a big fan of corporal punishment and prayer in the schools. I'd love to meet someone in Ridgecrest who had her for a teacher way back when.

Reading her obituary, I was struck by what a nice person she appeared to have been. The photograph accompanying the story made her look so friendly and kind. She had a BA in English and a teaching credential, was married with children, children-in-the-Lord (whatever they are), grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. And of course: "Belva loved God with all her heart."

What is it about loving God that makes people into such crazy bigots? It should do the opposite. I will never understand.

Goodbye Belva, we will miss you.

Joshua Tree

We got back this afternoon from a weekend trip to Joshua Tree National Park, about 150 miles from where we live. Some old friends of Rocket Boy's drove up from Arizona to meet us there. They had to drive 485 miles, but without almost-two-year-old twins in the car, so we agreed it was a pretty fair division of driving!

Staying at the hotel with almost-two-year-old twins was challenging. Within minutes of our arrival, Baby A discovered the phone and pressed the button to call the front desk. A moment later he did it again. So we put that phone in the closet and unplugged the other one. The hotel provided 2 little cribs, which the boys immediately figured out how to climb in and out of (this is new). So then they wouldn't go to sleep. We dressed them in their PJs, read stories, put them in their cribs, said nighty-night, and a moment later Baby A was in Baby B's crib and a moment after that Baby B was on the floor. Our room had a little kitchen attached to it, and the second night we were there, the boys decided to bang the cupboard doors open and shut over and over. Then the phone in the closet rang: it was the front desk: someone had complained about the noise! At 8pm! This morning RB let them ride in the elevator (just for fun -- we were on the 1st floor) and Baby A pushed the emergency phone button which calls the fire department.

Joshua Tree is an attractive National Park. I liked it, what I saw of it. Would like to come back and explore it a little more, perhaps with older twins. Desert parks have special challenges for toddlers: notably cacti, as well as other painful plants.

We're walking along a trail, the boys are looking at everything, touching everything, picking up rocks, and all of a sudden there's a prickly pear -- whoops! Grab both babies, hurry them along, and keep eyes peeled for the next hazard. Attractions such as the Cholla Cactus Garden could be viewed only from the car.

Oddly, there are no services inside the park. Even the visitor centers are quite a ways outside it, and there are no restaurants and most of the campgrounds don't even have water. But, you know, every National Park is a little different. The second visit is always easier than the first.

We were early for wildflowers. The ranger at the Oasis Visitor Center told us we wouldn't see much of anything yet; he also said they didn't expect this to be a good year. But as we were driving along the road to the south entrance, we passed a field of ocotillo and many of them were in bloom. Ocotillo are a funny plant -- just a bunch of stems that can grow up to 20 feet tall. According to a guidebook I bought, ocotillo usually look dead, but whenever there is a good rain, their long stems become covered with tiny green leaves -- which then die as soon as the soil dries out. This can happen over and over again throughout the year. They only bloom once a year, with bright red flowers at the ends of their stems. We had never even seen any green ones before, and these were all green and many had red flowers. Quite a sight.

After we drove through the park, we went to the Salton Sea. I have a framed poster (hanging in our family room) of a photo of the Salton Sea by Richard Misrach. I've had it at least 20 years. So now I've finally seen the real thing, or at least a tiny corner of it. It was very beautiful, the only problem being all the dead tilapia everywhere. I wasn't clear on what causes the dead fish -- something about algae. The Salton Sea also has an extremely serious salinity problem. But it's still magnificent. As we walked along the beach, we kept passing dead fish and the babies kept trying to pick them up.

Today (Sunday) our friends headed back to Arizona and we made another quick trip through the park. We wanted to take another nature walk, but it was raining and we hadn't brought the hiking stroller with its special rain cover. Finally we gave up, left the park, and headed home to Ridgecrest.