Several months ago I got an email from Macy's (the department store), inviting me to become a member of e-Rewards, which is an online survey company. I researched them, decided they were legitimate, and signed up. I think I was feeling guilty because my old job had just ended and I wasn't bringing in any money. Well, several months later I'm still not bringing in any money, because e-Rewards doesn't pay you in money. They pay you in fake money which you can redeem for "rewards," but most of the rewards are stupid -- miles for airlines that I never fly on, magazine subscriptions, that kind of thing. There's a $25 Macy's gift card that you can get if you earn $45 I think it is, so that's what I'm aiming for.
What I find amusing about the surveys that e-Rewards offers me is that I almost never get to take any of them. I've taken maybe two out of about 50. The problem is that I never meet their criteria. They ask some screening questions in the beginning and I always fail. So then I get 50 cents as a consolation prize, instead of the $6 or $10 or whatever that I would have gotten if I'd been able to complete the survey. This is why, after 50 surveys, I only have about $28 in my account.
Take today, for instance. The survey was going to be something about hair care products. First they asked me about my hair -- how long was it, was it straight or curly. Then they asked me which of these styling tools did I use regularly: curling iron, hot curlers, I don't know what all. I didn't use any of them (hairbrush wasn't listed). The last "styling tool" on the list was a blow dryer. I almost never blow dry my hair, probably not in the past several years, but just to make them happy I checked "Less than once a month" for frequency (instead of "never").
They said "thank you for your time" and I got 50 cents.
Living in Ridgecrest is often responsible for my being kicked out of surveys. In one recent one they wanted to know where I lived and I checked off "California." They came back with "Where in California? SF Bay Area, Los Angeles, San Diego... (there were a few more choices)... or Other?" Of course, I had to check "Other." "Thank you for your time..." I thought that was very funny.
One survey wanted to know what chain restaurants I eat at. Ridgecrest has Denny's and some fast food places, but that's it. We like to eat at Red Lobster when we go to Palmdale, but it wasn't on the list. So from the list of about 100 restaurants I checked off Denny's and Carl's Jr. "Thank you for your time..."
Sometimes I get kicked out as soon as I tell them how old I am. It's clear to me that 50-year-old housewives in Ridgecrest are not these surveys' target audience.
In another recent survey, they wanted to know whether I'd bought any electronic devices in the past 6 months. I don't think we have, but we had bought something in the past year, so I said yes. What were these devices, the survey wanted to know, a blu-ray player? A video-game console? I checked "Other." The survey asked me to explain what I meant by Other. I typed "TV converter box." I thought that would disqualify me, but no, I was allowed to continue. The survey asked me whether I planned to buy any electronic devices in the next six months. Truly, I don't, but I lied and said I was going to buy a camera (if boos keep dropping mine, I will have to). The survey asked me whether I would like to buy my new camera at WalMart, Costco, Target, etc. I said I would be happy to buy it at Target. "Thank you for your time." I don't even get to take the surveys when I lie!
Rocket Boy doesn't think I should take these surveys, that I'm giving out too much personal information. I'm sure he's right, though I'm also sure I give out less personal information than the people who actually get to TAKE the surveys. Not to worry. As soon as I get that Macy's gift card, I'm going to take myself and my unpopular personal information far away from e-Rewards and any other online survey company that might knock at my (virtual) door.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Late spring
I have a very strong sense that spring is ending. The hot weather isn't quite here yet -- it's teasing us -- a hot day here, a hot day there, then a string of cooler days. But it's coming, Oh yes, it's coming. Some time in May it will dig in and then it won't go away until late October! How I dread summer. The only good thing about summer is wearing sandals all the time, and cropped pants and skirts and that sort of thing. I want to get some new Keen sandals. My green ones from last summer still look great, and Rocket Boy has promised to glue my old blue Tevas so I can wear them too. But I want something else. I want PURPLE sandals. What do you think of these?
http://www.keenfootwear.com/product/ss11/shoes/women/waterfront/la%20paz%20sandal/sweet%20grape
Of course I shouldn't be buying sandals. I should be saving my money in case we are evicted from our rental house (if we are, it won't be our fault, I hasten to add). We have a very bad feeling about our landlord's financial situation. Oh the joys of living in Ridgecrest, though I suppose this could happen anywhere.
It's just been really dry recently, that awful can't-drink-enough-water, need-to-wear-Chapstick-on-all-body-parts kind of dry feeling. Our backyard, which seemed so lush a month ago, now seems so deserty, all the green weeds turned to straw. It's as though it went from March to September in a few weeks.
However, the tortoises don't seem to mind it, so maybe I'm being too whiny. We took them out of their pen this evening and let them roam around the yard. I was fascinated by how they managed to find funny little dried-up weeds that I wouldn't have given a second thought to and munch them down with gusto. For them it's still spring and maybe I should take my cue from them.
Speaking of reptiles -- and how often I do seem to be speaking of reptiles -- we saw our first live wild snake last weekend. Since moving to Ridgecrest over two years ago, we have seen numerous DEAD snakes (mostly on the Garlock Road), but no live, wild ones. And believe me, I keep my eyes open!
We saw the snake in Kernville, not Ridgecrest, so I suppose it doesn't really count, but it was so lovely! It was in the park along the river in Kernville, where we went on Saturday. We had first attempted to go to the Kern River Preserve, but the entrance road was closed due to flooding. But it happened that Audubon was having a Spring Festival that day -- at a nearby location -- so we went to that, and there were live snakes there. Mostly in cages, but one that someone was holding and you could pet. I am fond of snakes, so I petted it extensively.
And then we went to Kernville and played in the park, and what do you know, here's a little snake in the grass! A small skinny snake, probably a young one (don't know what kind). I wanted so much to pick it up, but I knew I shouldn't, and the babies were so interested in it too, but we had to keep telling them not to touch it either. We should have left it alone, but we just couldn't, so it kept getting mad at us and rearing up. Finally it climbed up a tree and hid (sort of), so we let it be. Here's the snake in the grass:
And here's the snake up the tree:
And here, because I can't resist, is another tortoise -- plus boos, for those who are less obsessed with reptiles than I. This was at the Spring Festival. At least in the Kern River Valley it's still spring.
One more note on creepy crawlies. The other day when I went to pick the twins up at daycare, they were outside in the play yard, as usual, but I noticed that most of the kids were clustered around the jungle gym, looking at something. I went inside the fence and asked "What are you doing?" The teacher told me "It's a spider." Since she didn't seem concerned, I assumed it wasn't a widow and went to have a look. It was a little garden spider, being stared at by 6 or 8 three year olds. "I'm going to kill it!" announced Baby A, who was holding a big plastic spoon. "No, no," I said. "Don't kill it. That's a GOOD spider. It won't hurt you."
Before we moved to Ridgecrest I had a pretty severe case of arachnophobia. I can't say I just love spiders now, but I've come quite a long way.
http://www.keenfootwear.com/product/ss11/shoes/women/waterfront/la%20paz%20sandal/sweet%20grape
Of course I shouldn't be buying sandals. I should be saving my money in case we are evicted from our rental house (if we are, it won't be our fault, I hasten to add). We have a very bad feeling about our landlord's financial situation. Oh the joys of living in Ridgecrest, though I suppose this could happen anywhere.
It's just been really dry recently, that awful can't-drink-enough-water, need-to-wear-Chapstick-on-all-body-parts kind of dry feeling. Our backyard, which seemed so lush a month ago, now seems so deserty, all the green weeds turned to straw. It's as though it went from March to September in a few weeks.
However, the tortoises don't seem to mind it, so maybe I'm being too whiny. We took them out of their pen this evening and let them roam around the yard. I was fascinated by how they managed to find funny little dried-up weeds that I wouldn't have given a second thought to and munch them down with gusto. For them it's still spring and maybe I should take my cue from them.
Speaking of reptiles -- and how often I do seem to be speaking of reptiles -- we saw our first live wild snake last weekend. Since moving to Ridgecrest over two years ago, we have seen numerous DEAD snakes (mostly on the Garlock Road), but no live, wild ones. And believe me, I keep my eyes open!
We saw the snake in Kernville, not Ridgecrest, so I suppose it doesn't really count, but it was so lovely! It was in the park along the river in Kernville, where we went on Saturday. We had first attempted to go to the Kern River Preserve, but the entrance road was closed due to flooding. But it happened that Audubon was having a Spring Festival that day -- at a nearby location -- so we went to that, and there were live snakes there. Mostly in cages, but one that someone was holding and you could pet. I am fond of snakes, so I petted it extensively.
And then we went to Kernville and played in the park, and what do you know, here's a little snake in the grass! A small skinny snake, probably a young one (don't know what kind). I wanted so much to pick it up, but I knew I shouldn't, and the babies were so interested in it too, but we had to keep telling them not to touch it either. We should have left it alone, but we just couldn't, so it kept getting mad at us and rearing up. Finally it climbed up a tree and hid (sort of), so we let it be. Here's the snake in the grass:
And here's the snake up the tree:
And here, because I can't resist, is another tortoise -- plus boos, for those who are less obsessed with reptiles than I. This was at the Spring Festival. At least in the Kern River Valley it's still spring.
One more note on creepy crawlies. The other day when I went to pick the twins up at daycare, they were outside in the play yard, as usual, but I noticed that most of the kids were clustered around the jungle gym, looking at something. I went inside the fence and asked "What are you doing?" The teacher told me "It's a spider." Since she didn't seem concerned, I assumed it wasn't a widow and went to have a look. It was a little garden spider, being stared at by 6 or 8 three year olds. "I'm going to kill it!" announced Baby A, who was holding a big plastic spoon. "No, no," I said. "Don't kill it. That's a GOOD spider. It won't hurt you."
Before we moved to Ridgecrest I had a pretty severe case of arachnophobia. I can't say I just love spiders now, but I've come quite a long way.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Windy Easter
So Easter Sunday is drawing to a close, and I am musing about this odd holiday that the twins enjoyed so much today. When I asked them, last night, what was special about tomorrow (i.e., today), they didn't know. I said "It's Easter!" and they said "Oh, Easter," but in a very vague way. So I said, "What happens on Easter!" and Baby A said brightly, "Candy!" There you have it.
When I was a kid, I honestly didn't know what Easter was about. No idea. That is, it was about eggs and rabbits and candy, but why did people go to church? No clue. Much much later, when I was in grad school, I went to a Presbyterian church for a few years, and learned what religious Easter is all about. I found it interesting, even moving, in a spiritual way. I never really believed in the whole Resurrection thing, but I liked the rhythm of the church year, Lent as a time of meditation, and then the joyous Easter -- even though for me Easter was joyous because it was springtime and there were eggs and rabbits and candy.
What on earth am I going to teach my kids about this? In a year or two I think I'm going to need to say something. I don't want them to be as mixed up as I was. Oh well, maybe when it's time I'll have some ideas.
Anyway, I was looking back at photos from previous Easters. Their first Easter, in 2008, they were just a few weeks old. Aunt Nancy was visiting and I think she made Easter dinner and gave them a bunny. I can't find a photo that screams Easter, but here's one from a week or two later:
Easter 2009 was our first in Ridgecrest. The babies were just past their first birthday. Here they are with their Easter stash:
All they got were some bunnies (all of which they already owned) and some plastic eggs with nothing in them. And they stayed in their cribs until we got them up. Baby A wasn't even walking yet. Baby B maybe had just started. The good old days.
Last year, Easter 2010, was more complicated. As you can see, there are actual chocolate rabbits in those baskets:
None of the stuffed animals were new, but the little dolls and the cars were Easter gifts. Delighted smiles very quickly turned to tears as Baby A commandeered all the cars for himself.
This year's loot looked very much like last year's, except more jelly beans. Once again, all the stuffed animals were already ours (but the toy cars were new):
The big difference this year was that now the boys get up before us. I heard them, as I lay in bed trying not to wake up (it was a little before 7 am). I heard the door to their room open, I heard them go down the hall. I heard Baby A say "Look at these!" and Baby B's cries of delight as he too spotted the display. Then I heard munching, and then a little later, "Need a paper towel!" so then I got up. They'd spilled half a container of bubbles -- I don't know what possessed me to put that in their baskets. By the time I got out there to clean it up, they'd eaten all their chocolate bunnies and quite a few of the jelly beans.
After Mom and Dad had breakfast (and boos had more jelly beans), we had an Easter egg hunt in the backyard, and that was fun.
For lunch, we drove the 60 miles to Olancha and went to the Ranch House Cafe, because it's one of the few places where the boos sort of behave themselves. The one problem was that for Easter, the Ranch House Cafe set out a mechanical stuffed rabbit that scared Baby B half to death the last time we were there, a few weeks ago. So he didn't want to go today, but we talked him into it by telling him we'd stay far away from the rabbit. Of course our waitress got off to a bad start by urging the twins to go see the rabbit, but we explained the situation to her and she backed down.
After lunch, we decided to drive another 20 miles or so north to Lone Pine, where there's a very nice park with green grass and a little stream running through it, and we played there for quite a while.
On the way back to Ridgecrest the winds kicked up, and we were absolutely blown to bits. But we made it home. Rocket Boy decided to make egg salad for dinner (out of some of the hard-boiled eggs we dyed yesterday), but the boos did not find it appealing. I remember that from childhood -- it's so fun to dye eggs, but then you don't really want anything to do with them later. Tomorrow I'm going to make deviled eggs with the rest. And that'll be our Easter.
When I was a kid, I honestly didn't know what Easter was about. No idea. That is, it was about eggs and rabbits and candy, but why did people go to church? No clue. Much much later, when I was in grad school, I went to a Presbyterian church for a few years, and learned what religious Easter is all about. I found it interesting, even moving, in a spiritual way. I never really believed in the whole Resurrection thing, but I liked the rhythm of the church year, Lent as a time of meditation, and then the joyous Easter -- even though for me Easter was joyous because it was springtime and there were eggs and rabbits and candy.
What on earth am I going to teach my kids about this? In a year or two I think I'm going to need to say something. I don't want them to be as mixed up as I was. Oh well, maybe when it's time I'll have some ideas.
Anyway, I was looking back at photos from previous Easters. Their first Easter, in 2008, they were just a few weeks old. Aunt Nancy was visiting and I think she made Easter dinner and gave them a bunny. I can't find a photo that screams Easter, but here's one from a week or two later:
Easter 2009 was our first in Ridgecrest. The babies were just past their first birthday. Here they are with their Easter stash:
All they got were some bunnies (all of which they already owned) and some plastic eggs with nothing in them. And they stayed in their cribs until we got them up. Baby A wasn't even walking yet. Baby B maybe had just started. The good old days.
Last year, Easter 2010, was more complicated. As you can see, there are actual chocolate rabbits in those baskets:
None of the stuffed animals were new, but the little dolls and the cars were Easter gifts. Delighted smiles very quickly turned to tears as Baby A commandeered all the cars for himself.
This year's loot looked very much like last year's, except more jelly beans. Once again, all the stuffed animals were already ours (but the toy cars were new):
The big difference this year was that now the boys get up before us. I heard them, as I lay in bed trying not to wake up (it was a little before 7 am). I heard the door to their room open, I heard them go down the hall. I heard Baby A say "Look at these!" and Baby B's cries of delight as he too spotted the display. Then I heard munching, and then a little later, "Need a paper towel!" so then I got up. They'd spilled half a container of bubbles -- I don't know what possessed me to put that in their baskets. By the time I got out there to clean it up, they'd eaten all their chocolate bunnies and quite a few of the jelly beans.
After Mom and Dad had breakfast (and boos had more jelly beans), we had an Easter egg hunt in the backyard, and that was fun.
For lunch, we drove the 60 miles to Olancha and went to the Ranch House Cafe, because it's one of the few places where the boos sort of behave themselves. The one problem was that for Easter, the Ranch House Cafe set out a mechanical stuffed rabbit that scared Baby B half to death the last time we were there, a few weeks ago. So he didn't want to go today, but we talked him into it by telling him we'd stay far away from the rabbit. Of course our waitress got off to a bad start by urging the twins to go see the rabbit, but we explained the situation to her and she backed down.
After lunch, we decided to drive another 20 miles or so north to Lone Pine, where there's a very nice park with green grass and a little stream running through it, and we played there for quite a while.
On the way back to Ridgecrest the winds kicked up, and we were absolutely blown to bits. But we made it home. Rocket Boy decided to make egg salad for dinner (out of some of the hard-boiled eggs we dyed yesterday), but the boos did not find it appealing. I remember that from childhood -- it's so fun to dye eggs, but then you don't really want anything to do with them later. Tomorrow I'm going to make deviled eggs with the rest. And that'll be our Easter.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Not a particularly good Friday
Just a short post tonight because I am worn out. What a terrible day. Every other Friday our cleaning lady comes, and while Rocket Boy really loves the results, the process is less enjoyable for me. First I have to pick up the whole house BEFORE she comes -- but AFTER the twins go to daycare, because any picking up I do with them home, they immediately undo. So there's this tiny window of time where I run around frantically picking things up, back and forth across the house, redistributing items that the twins have strewn. Then, panting, I go and get Crystal (she doesn't drive), take her to Wal-Mart where she selects cleaning products for me to buy, and then take her back to our house so she can start cleaning, while I sit at my computer feeling guilty because I'm not doing the cleaning. Of course it benefits her, because she gets our business, but I feel that if I were a good person, I would clean my own house.
Today I really strongly considered asking Crystal if we could reschedule, because I'm so tired and sick with some funky virus, but I chickened out. So I did all the usual picking up and fetching. Then, about half an hour after she got started, I had to leave again, because the boys' class at daycare was having an Easter party and parents were urged to attend. I got there a few minutes late, just in time to see Baby A being led over to Time Out, but when he spotted me he shouted "My mommy's here!" and was allowed to run over to me, along with Baby B.
Then we had to make Easter baskets. All the other kids' parents could focus on making their Easter basket the most beautiful ever. Some of the kids even had two relatives there to help. And then there was me, frantically trying to make TWO Easter baskets in the allotted time. The joys of twins are never ending. As I worked, people came around with baskets of treats and put some in every kid's basket. Plastic eggs full of candy, candy on its own, cookies in ziploc bags. What a nightmare.
As soon as the baskets were made and filled, Baby A and Baby B started demanding to go home. And then I realized that that was what was expected of me -- when I left, I was supposed to take my children with me, even though it was only 3 pm and they normally stay until 5 pm. But I had Crystal at home, cleaning. So I said "Let's go to the park" and they were all for it. I called Rocket Boy from the car and told him that if by any chance he could possibly leave work just a LITTLE early, that it would be MUCH APPRECIATED, and he said oh yes, he would leave as soon as he shut down the computers.
So we went to Pearson Park (not to be confused with Pearsonville Park), which has pretty good play equipment. The boos insisted on bringing some of their candy over to the play area. I just didn't have the strength to prevent this. After a bit they both announced that they had pooped and I should change their diapers. So we went back across the park and across the street to where I'd parked the car, and I changed both diapers. While I was changing one boy, the other would get more candy out of his basket. Then back to the park, more playing, and pretty soon Baby B has another poopy diaper. Rinse and repeat. Meanwhile their chocolate candy is melting in the hot car and they're eating it anyway, and WHERE IS ROCKET BOY???? At 4:30 I gave up, packed them back into the car, and went home. But of course Crystal was still cleaning, so we went and sat in the backyard. I wanted to crawl in a tortoise burrow and hide. Finally at 5 pm Rocket Boy showed up. Soon after that, Crystal was done, so we took her home.
Then we had to do something about dinner. On the days Crystal comes, we eat out, so that we don't mess up the kitchen 30 seconds after she's cleaned it. But the boos had been eating candy all afternoon. Plus, our favorite place to take them for a quick bite, the coffeehouse Casa Java, went out of business recently. So we decided to go to the Espresso Cafe, which has a large outdoor seating area. But when we got there, they were setting up for Live Music, Wine Tasting, a Special Menu, and other non-toddler-friendly things, so we left. But then what? "Taco Bell?" Rocket Boy suggested.
I just couldn't do Taco Bell. So we went home, stopping on the way at the funny little drive-through place at the corner of Ridgecrest and Norma to get Rocket Boy a vanilla shake. He shared it with the twins and that was their dinner. I had a peanut butter sandwich. And after many more hours the twins went to bed. And now I'm going to go too.
But first, as a reward to everyone who read this far, here are two photos. First, the tortoises having breakfast this morning (grape leaves, hollyhock leaves, and yellow rose petals):
And second, a postprandial nap in the sun:
Today I really strongly considered asking Crystal if we could reschedule, because I'm so tired and sick with some funky virus, but I chickened out. So I did all the usual picking up and fetching. Then, about half an hour after she got started, I had to leave again, because the boys' class at daycare was having an Easter party and parents were urged to attend. I got there a few minutes late, just in time to see Baby A being led over to Time Out, but when he spotted me he shouted "My mommy's here!" and was allowed to run over to me, along with Baby B.
Then we had to make Easter baskets. All the other kids' parents could focus on making their Easter basket the most beautiful ever. Some of the kids even had two relatives there to help. And then there was me, frantically trying to make TWO Easter baskets in the allotted time. The joys of twins are never ending. As I worked, people came around with baskets of treats and put some in every kid's basket. Plastic eggs full of candy, candy on its own, cookies in ziploc bags. What a nightmare.
As soon as the baskets were made and filled, Baby A and Baby B started demanding to go home. And then I realized that that was what was expected of me -- when I left, I was supposed to take my children with me, even though it was only 3 pm and they normally stay until 5 pm. But I had Crystal at home, cleaning. So I said "Let's go to the park" and they were all for it. I called Rocket Boy from the car and told him that if by any chance he could possibly leave work just a LITTLE early, that it would be MUCH APPRECIATED, and he said oh yes, he would leave as soon as he shut down the computers.
So we went to Pearson Park (not to be confused with Pearsonville Park), which has pretty good play equipment. The boos insisted on bringing some of their candy over to the play area. I just didn't have the strength to prevent this. After a bit they both announced that they had pooped and I should change their diapers. So we went back across the park and across the street to where I'd parked the car, and I changed both diapers. While I was changing one boy, the other would get more candy out of his basket. Then back to the park, more playing, and pretty soon Baby B has another poopy diaper. Rinse and repeat. Meanwhile their chocolate candy is melting in the hot car and they're eating it anyway, and WHERE IS ROCKET BOY???? At 4:30 I gave up, packed them back into the car, and went home. But of course Crystal was still cleaning, so we went and sat in the backyard. I wanted to crawl in a tortoise burrow and hide. Finally at 5 pm Rocket Boy showed up. Soon after that, Crystal was done, so we took her home.
Then we had to do something about dinner. On the days Crystal comes, we eat out, so that we don't mess up the kitchen 30 seconds after she's cleaned it. But the boos had been eating candy all afternoon. Plus, our favorite place to take them for a quick bite, the coffeehouse Casa Java, went out of business recently. So we decided to go to the Espresso Cafe, which has a large outdoor seating area. But when we got there, they were setting up for Live Music, Wine Tasting, a Special Menu, and other non-toddler-friendly things, so we left. But then what? "Taco Bell?" Rocket Boy suggested.
I just couldn't do Taco Bell. So we went home, stopping on the way at the funny little drive-through place at the corner of Ridgecrest and Norma to get Rocket Boy a vanilla shake. He shared it with the twins and that was their dinner. I had a peanut butter sandwich. And after many more hours the twins went to bed. And now I'm going to go too.
But first, as a reward to everyone who read this far, here are two photos. First, the tortoises having breakfast this morning (grape leaves, hollyhock leaves, and yellow rose petals):
And second, a postprandial nap in the sun:
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Way too much weekend
Well, we survived the weekend, barely. Some weekends are so quiet, so dull. And then there was last weekend. After our jaunt on Friday there was the Wildflower Festival on Saturday and Sunday, the twins and Rocket Boy attended a 3rd birthday party Sunday afternoon, and I had a colonoscopy and endoscopy on Monday. A seemingly endless weekend.
I was so happy today. It was all over.
The Wildflower Festival was interesting. I'm waiting to hear from people in the know as to whether it was really successful or not. Apparently there were TOUR BUSES going from site to site (the Festival took place at five spots around town). Who on earth would take a tour bus to Ridgecrest? And from where? The mind boggles.
Recently I read a mystery called The Lincoln Lawyer by Michael Connolly (I found it at Rite-Aid, OK?), and early on, the main character talks about how it feels to drive from LA to the beautiful Mojave Desert -- except he's talking about LANCASTER. It takes us an hour and a half to drive to Lancaster, and from there it's another hour to LA. Sigh.
Anyway, the Wildflower Festival. We only made it to two of the five venues, but that's because we had the boo bears with us, of course. Also, on Saturday there was a Children's Fair at the park, so of course we had to go to that. It was OK. Here we are at the Fair.
That's kind of how it was -- hot and dry and barren. Welcome to Ridgecrest.
After the Fair, we walked over to the Maturango Museum to see the wildflower display there (part of the Festival). We were there for about two seconds, due to two little men who wanted to pick up all the wildflower displays. Thus, I didn't take any photos of it, so here are some more wildflower photos instead.
I think this is some kind of buckwheat, not totally sure. We found it in the field near our house:
This is Desert Larkspur. We found it near Fossil Falls:
And this is called Desert Mallow or Apricot Mallow, also found near Fossil Falls:
Back to the Festival. We next went over to the Rec Center, where there were booths with people selling arts and crafts, and also non-profits. The tortoise club had a booth, so we went there. Here we are, bothering the tortoises.
My writers club had a booth too, and I sat at it for two hours on Sunday morning, but very few people came by. Not really surprising, considering that it was Palm Sunday in a town with more churches than restaurants.
Sunday afternoon I had "prep," so Rocket Boy took the twins to the birthday party of one of their little friends from daycare. Here's Baby A attempting (and failing) to hit a pinata at the party:
Monday, Rocket Boy and I made the drive to Lancaster and back for my procedures. An hour and a half each way. I don't have any photos -- oh wait, I do too. But you know what, I'm going to keep them to myself. Much as I'd love to scan and share with you the photos of my sparkling clean colon, duodenum, and the rest, I'm not going to. Apparently I have some limits.
Tonight Rocket Boy said to me, "So what do you want to do next weekend?"
"Nothing!"
Of course, it's Easter, so it won't be nothing. But I can dream.
I was so happy today. It was all over.
The Wildflower Festival was interesting. I'm waiting to hear from people in the know as to whether it was really successful or not. Apparently there were TOUR BUSES going from site to site (the Festival took place at five spots around town). Who on earth would take a tour bus to Ridgecrest? And from where? The mind boggles.
Recently I read a mystery called The Lincoln Lawyer by Michael Connolly (I found it at Rite-Aid, OK?), and early on, the main character talks about how it feels to drive from LA to the beautiful Mojave Desert -- except he's talking about LANCASTER. It takes us an hour and a half to drive to Lancaster, and from there it's another hour to LA. Sigh.
Anyway, the Wildflower Festival. We only made it to two of the five venues, but that's because we had the boo bears with us, of course. Also, on Saturday there was a Children's Fair at the park, so of course we had to go to that. It was OK. Here we are at the Fair.
That's kind of how it was -- hot and dry and barren. Welcome to Ridgecrest.
After the Fair, we walked over to the Maturango Museum to see the wildflower display there (part of the Festival). We were there for about two seconds, due to two little men who wanted to pick up all the wildflower displays. Thus, I didn't take any photos of it, so here are some more wildflower photos instead.
I think this is some kind of buckwheat, not totally sure. We found it in the field near our house:
This is Desert Larkspur. We found it near Fossil Falls:
And this is called Desert Mallow or Apricot Mallow, also found near Fossil Falls:
Back to the Festival. We next went over to the Rec Center, where there were booths with people selling arts and crafts, and also non-profits. The tortoise club had a booth, so we went there. Here we are, bothering the tortoises.
My writers club had a booth too, and I sat at it for two hours on Sunday morning, but very few people came by. Not really surprising, considering that it was Palm Sunday in a town with more churches than restaurants.
Sunday afternoon I had "prep," so Rocket Boy took the twins to the birthday party of one of their little friends from daycare. Here's Baby A attempting (and failing) to hit a pinata at the party:
Monday, Rocket Boy and I made the drive to Lancaster and back for my procedures. An hour and a half each way. I don't have any photos -- oh wait, I do too. But you know what, I'm going to keep them to myself. Much as I'd love to scan and share with you the photos of my sparkling clean colon, duodenum, and the rest, I'm not going to. Apparently I have some limits.
Tonight Rocket Boy said to me, "So what do you want to do next weekend?"
"Nothing!"
Of course, it's Easter, so it won't be nothing. But I can dream.
Friday, April 15, 2011
No poppies
Today was Friday, flex Friday (which means Rocket Boy doesn't go to work), but horror of horrors, the twins' daycare was also closed (so the teachers could listen to a speaker or something). We're looking forward to the Wildflower Festival this weekend, but it doesn't really get going until tomorrow. So what to do?
We decided to go to Lancaster and see the poppy preserve. We went last year and it was beautiful, poppies everywhere. For those who have forgotten, here is a photo from last year (which was not considered a great year, just OK):
And here is one we took today:
I mean, there are a few, but not many.
We really screwed up on the timing, too -- we meant to go in the morning, but one thing led to another, and finally we decided to go to Palmdale first, have lunch and do some shopping, and go to the poppy preserve on our way home. We got there around 3 pm and of course it was windy, because I'm pretty sure it's ALWAYS windy in the Antelope Valley. It wasn't cold, but the babies don't like wind. (And really, who DOES like wind?) They actually ran away from us on the trail, all the way back down to the parking lot. We were screaming at the top of our lungs and they just ignored us. We went and got them, but then they ran away again. We finally had to put on their leashes, which we haven't used in ages. Here they are running away from us in the wind:
We walked and walked on the trail, but we never found the owl clover (another wildflower) that the ladies at the visitor center said were out there. Just that nasty little weed that's everywhere now. I don't know its name.
Poor Lancaster. Their Poppy Festival is this weekend, and really, why would you bother going this year? Of course that may mean that fewer people come to Ridgecrest's Wildflower Festival. Is anyone actually going to come to our Wildflower Festival? We'll find out tomorrow. We're going to go, at least, and I'm going to sit at a booth Sunday morning (and possibly tomorrow afternoon if Rocket Boy is willing to mind the twins for a while).
I'll leave you with one more photo. I'm pretty sure this was taken by Baby B. (Hey! Are those little fingerprints in the sky?)
We decided to go to Lancaster and see the poppy preserve. We went last year and it was beautiful, poppies everywhere. For those who have forgotten, here is a photo from last year (which was not considered a great year, just OK):
And here is one we took today:
I mean, there are a few, but not many.
We really screwed up on the timing, too -- we meant to go in the morning, but one thing led to another, and finally we decided to go to Palmdale first, have lunch and do some shopping, and go to the poppy preserve on our way home. We got there around 3 pm and of course it was windy, because I'm pretty sure it's ALWAYS windy in the Antelope Valley. It wasn't cold, but the babies don't like wind. (And really, who DOES like wind?) They actually ran away from us on the trail, all the way back down to the parking lot. We were screaming at the top of our lungs and they just ignored us. We went and got them, but then they ran away again. We finally had to put on their leashes, which we haven't used in ages. Here they are running away from us in the wind:
We walked and walked on the trail, but we never found the owl clover (another wildflower) that the ladies at the visitor center said were out there. Just that nasty little weed that's everywhere now. I don't know its name.
Poor Lancaster. Their Poppy Festival is this weekend, and really, why would you bother going this year? Of course that may mean that fewer people come to Ridgecrest's Wildflower Festival. Is anyone actually going to come to our Wildflower Festival? We'll find out tomorrow. We're going to go, at least, and I'm going to sit at a booth Sunday morning (and possibly tomorrow afternoon if Rocket Boy is willing to mind the twins for a while).
I'll leave you with one more photo. I'm pretty sure this was taken by Baby B. (Hey! Are those little fingerprints in the sky?)
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Flossing and flowers
Just a few thoughts before bedtime. I can't stay up too late because the twins are getting up earlier and earlier these days, along with the sun. They really hit the ground running, too. Down the hall they zoom in their footed sleepers, off to the refrigerator (whose childproof lock they figured out long ago). By the time Rocket Boy and I manage to get up and follow them, they are in the midst of eating several containers of Activia yogurt, with the sticky foil tops strewn around the table. For a while peach was the favorite flavor, but recently I bought some vanilla yogurt and now they like that best. They call it "flower yogurt," because the containers have a picture of a vanilla flower on them.
Rocket Boy and I struggle to eat our own breakfasts, as boo bears get rowdier and rowdier. Finally, multiple announcements of "I got a poopy" convince us to follow them back to their room, change their diapers, and wrestle them into some clothes. I am no longer allowed to choose their outfits, although I attempt to exert some influence, as in "You can't wear shorts, it's too cold," "You can't wear your snowman shirt, it's going to be 94 today," and "You can't wear your Thomas train shirt, it's dirty."
After we get dressed, it's time to brush teeth. I dislike this part of the morning routine so much that I sometimes try to sneak into my bathroom to brush my own teeth without them seeing. But this is almost always unsuccessful, since they follow me everywhere, and if they aren't right next to me, they're LISTENING to what I'm doing. So they find me. And they LOVE to brush their teeth. I know that should make me happy, but somehow it doesn't.
Tooth brushing is terribly complicated. They each have a stool to stand on. They each have a toothbrush. I put Thomas Train toddler toothpaste (don't ask) on their toothbrushes. The Thomas Train toothpaste is kept high up, on top of the medicine cabinet, because it is very desirable. They "help" me put it on their toothbrushes, which means they scream "I do it!" while I say "No, Mommy do it." Then they brush while I frantically put MY toothpaste on MY toothbrush and brush my teeth as fast as I can. Then I brush each of their sets of teeth (with water, since they've already eaten their toothpaste). I sing the ABC song while I brush them. This gives me enough time to do all their teeth, while they listen to the song. Then we rinse off the toothbrushes and rinse our mouths and dry our hands on the towel.
Then it's time for flossing. I used to be a pretty good flosser, but I've gotten lazy over the years. If it weren't for the fact that I don't have a dentist in Ridgecrest, and I'm really worried about what's happening to my teeth, I might floss once a week, if that. But the babies LOVE flossing. They LIVE for flossing. "Do flossing, Mommy?" they ask, when we are done with the toothbrushes. "Oh no," I say, "no time for flossing today." But then they cry and beg. "Do flossing, Mommy!" So we do flossing. Meanwhile time is passing, the sun is getting higher in the sky...
I break off a length of floss for each of them (the floss is also kept on top of the medicine cabinet because it also is very desirable). Then we go over to my bed and they fight for who gets to lie with his head propped up on my pillows first. I open the curtains, turn on the bedside light, and put my glasses up on top of my head so I can see into their little mouths, and then I floss between all their little teeth. Baby A actually has 3 places in his mouth where his teeth touch, so the flossing is useful to him. Baby B's teeth are all miles apart so the flossing is quite pointless. But I do it, tooth after tooth.
Then it's time to floss MY teeth. They each insist that I floss my teeth using their dental floss, while they watch. It isn't as gross as you'd think, because they don't have anything between their teeth, so the floss doesn't get dirty (until I use it, of course).
Then THEY floss MY teeth. They don't know how to hold it taut, so it's quite difficult for them to get the floss between my teeth. But they work hard at it.
Then they take their floss and wander around the house, flossing their teeth until at some point they drop their floss on the floor and I pick it up and throw it away.
Brushing teeth and flossing takes FOREVER. This is one of the reasons we never get anything done. But it does make the morning go by.
And now, here are some more flowers. These are from our trip to Death Valley -- was it two weekends ago? They were all seen on Artist's Drive.
This is caltha-leaf phacelia:
This is desert five-spot:
I think this is notch-leaf phacelia, but it might be Death Valley phacelia:
And this is a whole lot of phacelia and some desert five-spot:
Rocket Boy and I struggle to eat our own breakfasts, as boo bears get rowdier and rowdier. Finally, multiple announcements of "I got a poopy" convince us to follow them back to their room, change their diapers, and wrestle them into some clothes. I am no longer allowed to choose their outfits, although I attempt to exert some influence, as in "You can't wear shorts, it's too cold," "You can't wear your snowman shirt, it's going to be 94 today," and "You can't wear your Thomas train shirt, it's dirty."
After we get dressed, it's time to brush teeth. I dislike this part of the morning routine so much that I sometimes try to sneak into my bathroom to brush my own teeth without them seeing. But this is almost always unsuccessful, since they follow me everywhere, and if they aren't right next to me, they're LISTENING to what I'm doing. So they find me. And they LOVE to brush their teeth. I know that should make me happy, but somehow it doesn't.
Tooth brushing is terribly complicated. They each have a stool to stand on. They each have a toothbrush. I put Thomas Train toddler toothpaste (don't ask) on their toothbrushes. The Thomas Train toothpaste is kept high up, on top of the medicine cabinet, because it is very desirable. They "help" me put it on their toothbrushes, which means they scream "I do it!" while I say "No, Mommy do it." Then they brush while I frantically put MY toothpaste on MY toothbrush and brush my teeth as fast as I can. Then I brush each of their sets of teeth (with water, since they've already eaten their toothpaste). I sing the ABC song while I brush them. This gives me enough time to do all their teeth, while they listen to the song. Then we rinse off the toothbrushes and rinse our mouths and dry our hands on the towel.
Then it's time for flossing. I used to be a pretty good flosser, but I've gotten lazy over the years. If it weren't for the fact that I don't have a dentist in Ridgecrest, and I'm really worried about what's happening to my teeth, I might floss once a week, if that. But the babies LOVE flossing. They LIVE for flossing. "Do flossing, Mommy?" they ask, when we are done with the toothbrushes. "Oh no," I say, "no time for flossing today." But then they cry and beg. "Do flossing, Mommy!" So we do flossing. Meanwhile time is passing, the sun is getting higher in the sky...
I break off a length of floss for each of them (the floss is also kept on top of the medicine cabinet because it also is very desirable). Then we go over to my bed and they fight for who gets to lie with his head propped up on my pillows first. I open the curtains, turn on the bedside light, and put my glasses up on top of my head so I can see into their little mouths, and then I floss between all their little teeth. Baby A actually has 3 places in his mouth where his teeth touch, so the flossing is useful to him. Baby B's teeth are all miles apart so the flossing is quite pointless. But I do it, tooth after tooth.
Then it's time to floss MY teeth. They each insist that I floss my teeth using their dental floss, while they watch. It isn't as gross as you'd think, because they don't have anything between their teeth, so the floss doesn't get dirty (until I use it, of course).
Then THEY floss MY teeth. They don't know how to hold it taut, so it's quite difficult for them to get the floss between my teeth. But they work hard at it.
Then they take their floss and wander around the house, flossing their teeth until at some point they drop their floss on the floor and I pick it up and throw it away.
Brushing teeth and flossing takes FOREVER. This is one of the reasons we never get anything done. But it does make the morning go by.
And now, here are some more flowers. These are from our trip to Death Valley -- was it two weekends ago? They were all seen on Artist's Drive.
This is caltha-leaf phacelia:
This is desert five-spot:
I think this is notch-leaf phacelia, but it might be Death Valley phacelia:
And this is a whole lot of phacelia and some desert five-spot:
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Elmo's world
We always said that we weren't going to let the babies watch TV until they were at least two years old. Then, when they turned two, we said we weren't going to let them watch TV until they ASKED to watch TV. Well, this winter it finally became necessary to watch TV. Necessary for US, the parents, to have the kids watch TV.
It started with The Wizard of Oz, which we bought on DVD. First we watched it with them. Then we watched it with them again. Then we watched all the commentary and special features. For a while there we were watching it every day. Kids screaming, don't know what to do with them -- let's watch The Wizard of Oz!
Then, for some reason, we started watching Sea Hunt. Sea Hunt, for those not in the know, is a TV series that appeared from 1958 to 1961, and afterwards in syndication. I have no memory of it, but Rocket Boy liked it. A channel that we get (I don't even know which one) shows Sea Hunt regularly, so Rocket Boy DVR-ed it to watch with the kids. Sea Hunt stars Lloyd Bridges as a scuba diver who has all sorts of adventures and always beats out the bad guys.
When we turn on the TV to watch something we've recorded, our local PBS channel comes up first, because that's what we watch the rest of the time. And it shows Sesame Street from 6 pm to 7 pm every night. So when Rocket Boy would turn on Sea Hunt after dinner, up would pop Sesame Street.
Finally, we gave in. We went over to the dark side. Now we watch Sesame Street almost every night. We usually turn it on between 6:15 and 6:30, but never later than 6:40, because at 6:40 it's time for the "Elmo's world" segment of the show. Baby A and Baby B love Elmo more than anything else in the world.
"Do do duh do, do do duh do, Elmo's world.
Do do duh do, do do duh do, Elmo's world.
Elmo loves his goldfish, his crayon too.
That's Elmo's world!"
(Rocket Boy and I sing this theme song constantly, unable to get it out of our heads. Sometimes we sing "Lemur's world" instead, which annoys Baby B (who has a stuffed lemur).
Elmo's world is a small, claustrophobic room drawn in crayon. The other inhabitants of the room include a goldfish named Dorothy, a small desk with a drawer in it that Elmo often fights with, a computer that Elmo gets email on, a TV, a piano, a window with a shade that Elmo also often fights with, and a door to the real world. Outside the window is a blank space inhabited by a very strange man named Mr. Noodle.
Each episode, Elmo announces that he is thinking about something. Today it was feet. Then Dorothy the goldfish has a question. Today she wanted to know how to jump on one foot. Elmo says brightly, "Let's ask Mr. Noodle!" He cajoles the shade into going up so he can ask Mr. Noodle. Mr. Noodle is tall and goofy looking, and he always answers the question (in mime) wrong two times and then finally gets it right, with help from some off-camera children who criticize everything he does. Then Dorothy wants to ask someone else (Dorothy is a smart fish), so two or three children are shown answering the question (correctly), and then Elmo asks the question of a baby, who never knows the answer.
There's more to the segment -- the TV and the computer get involved, and a relevant visitor comes to the door (today it was a foot). And at the end Dorothy always wants to sing the (topic of the day) song. Today it was "Feet feet feet, feet feet feet, feet feet feet feet feet" (to the tune of Jingle Bells). And then we sing the Elmo's World theme song again and then it's over.
In my opinion, the best part is Mr. Noodle. When Elmo says "Let's ask Mr. Noodle" I shout out, "Don't ask Mr. Noodle! He doesn't know anything!" but secretly I am longing for my daily dose of Mr. Noodle. I just looked him up and he is played by the highly-regarded actor and clown Bill Irwin. That makes sense. He's just so wonderfully ridiculous.
As we watch, I think of all the things we could be doing instead -- making puzzles and going for walks, reading books and singing songs (except that I'm not allowed to sing anything right now -- every time I start to sing a song, Baby B shouts "DON'T SING THAT! SING ABC!" so then I have to sing the alphabet song, and that gets old).
But then I look at my little boys -- they're just so in love with Elmo. I think it's OK.
And then it's 7pm, time for The Zula Patrol and we turn the TV OFF!
Rocket Boy says we should point out to the twins that the Republicans want to cut off all funding for Elmo's world. No time like the present to start them thinking like liberals.
It started with The Wizard of Oz, which we bought on DVD. First we watched it with them. Then we watched it with them again. Then we watched all the commentary and special features. For a while there we were watching it every day. Kids screaming, don't know what to do with them -- let's watch The Wizard of Oz!
Then, for some reason, we started watching Sea Hunt. Sea Hunt, for those not in the know, is a TV series that appeared from 1958 to 1961, and afterwards in syndication. I have no memory of it, but Rocket Boy liked it. A channel that we get (I don't even know which one) shows Sea Hunt regularly, so Rocket Boy DVR-ed it to watch with the kids. Sea Hunt stars Lloyd Bridges as a scuba diver who has all sorts of adventures and always beats out the bad guys.
When we turn on the TV to watch something we've recorded, our local PBS channel comes up first, because that's what we watch the rest of the time. And it shows Sesame Street from 6 pm to 7 pm every night. So when Rocket Boy would turn on Sea Hunt after dinner, up would pop Sesame Street.
Finally, we gave in. We went over to the dark side. Now we watch Sesame Street almost every night. We usually turn it on between 6:15 and 6:30, but never later than 6:40, because at 6:40 it's time for the "Elmo's world" segment of the show. Baby A and Baby B love Elmo more than anything else in the world.
"Do do duh do, do do duh do, Elmo's world.
Do do duh do, do do duh do, Elmo's world.
Elmo loves his goldfish, his crayon too.
That's Elmo's world!"
(Rocket Boy and I sing this theme song constantly, unable to get it out of our heads. Sometimes we sing "Lemur's world" instead, which annoys Baby B (who has a stuffed lemur).
Elmo's world is a small, claustrophobic room drawn in crayon. The other inhabitants of the room include a goldfish named Dorothy, a small desk with a drawer in it that Elmo often fights with, a computer that Elmo gets email on, a TV, a piano, a window with a shade that Elmo also often fights with, and a door to the real world. Outside the window is a blank space inhabited by a very strange man named Mr. Noodle.
Each episode, Elmo announces that he is thinking about something. Today it was feet. Then Dorothy the goldfish has a question. Today she wanted to know how to jump on one foot. Elmo says brightly, "Let's ask Mr. Noodle!" He cajoles the shade into going up so he can ask Mr. Noodle. Mr. Noodle is tall and goofy looking, and he always answers the question (in mime) wrong two times and then finally gets it right, with help from some off-camera children who criticize everything he does. Then Dorothy wants to ask someone else (Dorothy is a smart fish), so two or three children are shown answering the question (correctly), and then Elmo asks the question of a baby, who never knows the answer.
There's more to the segment -- the TV and the computer get involved, and a relevant visitor comes to the door (today it was a foot). And at the end Dorothy always wants to sing the (topic of the day) song. Today it was "Feet feet feet, feet feet feet, feet feet feet feet feet" (to the tune of Jingle Bells). And then we sing the Elmo's World theme song again and then it's over.
In my opinion, the best part is Mr. Noodle. When Elmo says "Let's ask Mr. Noodle" I shout out, "Don't ask Mr. Noodle! He doesn't know anything!" but secretly I am longing for my daily dose of Mr. Noodle. I just looked him up and he is played by the highly-regarded actor and clown Bill Irwin. That makes sense. He's just so wonderfully ridiculous.
As we watch, I think of all the things we could be doing instead -- making puzzles and going for walks, reading books and singing songs (except that I'm not allowed to sing anything right now -- every time I start to sing a song, Baby B shouts "DON'T SING THAT! SING ABC!" so then I have to sing the alphabet song, and that gets old).
But then I look at my little boys -- they're just so in love with Elmo. I think it's OK.
And then it's 7pm, time for The Zula Patrol and we turn the TV OFF!
Rocket Boy says we should point out to the twins that the Republicans want to cut off all funding for Elmo's world. No time like the present to start them thinking like liberals.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Springtime wanderings
After a cool week, the weather is starting to warm up again and it's just beautiful here right now. Wildflowers everywhere! When we were in Death Valley last weekend the ranger mentioned that they aren't having a very good year for flowers, and I know Lancaster isn't having a very good year with their poppies. But it's beautiful around Ridgecrest.
Today we made our first visit of the year to the Desert Tortoise Natural Area (DTNA), which is outside California City, just south of us. We got there about 10:15 am, and I was sure we'd see a tortoise or two. But no, there were none. The naturalist told us that earlier in the week, when it was colder, they'd had FIVE tortoises walking around, but now that it's warmer, nothing. We are beginning to doubt such stories. "Oh, there was a tortoise here a moment ago, you just missed it," etc., etc. It's like the Monty Python sketch with the man pretending to sell cheese.
Still, even without tortoises, the DTNA is a lovely place, and we enjoyed our walk. We did see several lizards, and that made the boos happy. Here is one, a horned lizard (also known as a horned toad):
There were nice flowers too. Here is a shot of the boos among the goldfields:
It is getting harder and harder to take photos around them, because now they insist on taking photos too. Every time I photograph a flower, Baby A then has to photograph the flower, followed by Baby B. They snap several shots, just to be sure they've got it. Meanwhile, my camera's batteries run down. When I get home and download the photos to the computer I then have to go through them and delete all of the babies' shots.
Here's an example (that I kept to show you). They insisted that I take a picture of a rock with lichen on it. Here's the rock:
And here's their blurry picture of the same rock, with the camera's cord hanging down in the middle of everything:
They insist on holding the camera about 2 inches away from whatever they're photographing. I say to Baby A, "Not so close!" but he ignores me. Then Baby B gets the camera, and Baby A shouts "Not so close!" which makes Baby B nervous, so his shots are even worse than Baby A's.
I guess I could just say "No! It's Mommy's camera!" That's what parents would have done in the old days, when cameras had film. But I figure they're learning, and no one's dropped the camera yet, so on we go.
Later in the afternoon, when we were hanging out in our backyard, watching Daddy work on the weeds, I said to Baby B, "Did you like the tortoise place?"
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry there weren't any tortoises there. But there were lizards."
Baby B said, "And a tortoise picture."
And so there was.
Today we made our first visit of the year to the Desert Tortoise Natural Area (DTNA), which is outside California City, just south of us. We got there about 10:15 am, and I was sure we'd see a tortoise or two. But no, there were none. The naturalist told us that earlier in the week, when it was colder, they'd had FIVE tortoises walking around, but now that it's warmer, nothing. We are beginning to doubt such stories. "Oh, there was a tortoise here a moment ago, you just missed it," etc., etc. It's like the Monty Python sketch with the man pretending to sell cheese.
Still, even without tortoises, the DTNA is a lovely place, and we enjoyed our walk. We did see several lizards, and that made the boos happy. Here is one, a horned lizard (also known as a horned toad):
There were nice flowers too. Here is a shot of the boos among the goldfields:
It is getting harder and harder to take photos around them, because now they insist on taking photos too. Every time I photograph a flower, Baby A then has to photograph the flower, followed by Baby B. They snap several shots, just to be sure they've got it. Meanwhile, my camera's batteries run down. When I get home and download the photos to the computer I then have to go through them and delete all of the babies' shots.
Here's an example (that I kept to show you). They insisted that I take a picture of a rock with lichen on it. Here's the rock:
And here's their blurry picture of the same rock, with the camera's cord hanging down in the middle of everything:
They insist on holding the camera about 2 inches away from whatever they're photographing. I say to Baby A, "Not so close!" but he ignores me. Then Baby B gets the camera, and Baby A shouts "Not so close!" which makes Baby B nervous, so his shots are even worse than Baby A's.
I guess I could just say "No! It's Mommy's camera!" That's what parents would have done in the old days, when cameras had film. But I figure they're learning, and no one's dropped the camera yet, so on we go.
Later in the afternoon, when we were hanging out in our backyard, watching Daddy work on the weeds, I said to Baby B, "Did you like the tortoise place?"
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry there weren't any tortoises there. But there were lizards."
Baby B said, "And a tortoise picture."
And so there was.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Hidden desert
Today is another windy day, blowing in one last storm. The tortoises were up this morning, but they went down again early. We even have a chance of rain tomorrow. The last two years, I think the last rain came in February! And here it is April. Funny year.
I'm sitting here looking at my to-do list, checking off what I've done and wondering what else I'll do today. Making dinner is probably not avoidable, working on taxes definitely is. As I ponder my list, I'm listening to "Hidden Desert: a Tribute to Thin White Rope." http://thehiddendesert.blogspot.com/ This requires a little explanation.
The first time I came to Ridgecrest, in 1979, for a punk rock concert, I met some pretty cool guys, friends of the friend who'd invited me down. (Actually I invited myself, but whatever.) I lost touch with my friend a few years later and thus with his friends. Flash forward 31 years to last summer, when I wrote a memory piece about that trip. The story is called "Ridgecrest Revisited" and it's included in an anthology my writing club is publishing, Planet Mojave (http://planetmojave.com/).
Anyway, it turned out that another member of my writing group actually knew most of the people I mentioned in the story, because her son was in their circle. She noted that one of them, Guy Kyser, had played in a fairly successful band. After a bit of detective work I discovered that Guy's band was called Thin White Rope, and it was quite popular during the 1980s and early 1990s, especially in Europe.
So I watched videos of TWR on YouTube, and ordered a few of their CDs from Amazon, but I have to admit that what I like best (so far anyway) is this tribute site. Most of the bands who contributed songs are actually European -- French, Italian, German, British, even Serbian. So you get these amusing pronunciations and little funny bits, like the singer counting "One two three, eins zwei drei" as the song begins. The Italian guy who sings the "Triangle" song has a particularly lovely accent. Guy Kyser had a very distinctive voice -- "gravelly" doesn't even begin to describe it -- and I find him a little hard to listen to. Most of these tributes are easier. What can I say? I'm old, I don't do punk anymore (though TWR's sound is actually described as "desert rock").
But Guy's songwriting skills were impressive. Some of the songs are really disturbing and/or moving. I like "The Red Red Sun," "Hidden Lands," "Sack Full of Silver," "Astronomy," and "Up to Midnight." Remember that Guy grew up in Ridgecrest. Many of his songs sound like they're about his hometown.
This little town
will drag you down
Your old car
has broken down
On your right
is everyone
On your left
the red red sun
Welcome to Ridgecrest. I feel as though I've found another key to this place.
And now, for the wildflower enthusiasts among you, here are a few more photos from the field near our house.
This is probably Fremont pincushion. It's something pincushion anyway (there are several varieties).
This is called Brown-eyed primrose (sorry, not a very good shot, but on the positive side, you get to see a little bit of Baby A's shoe).
And this, this is impressive. It's some kind of a Sunray, possibly a Panamint daisy (I need a more comprehensive wildflower book). We were in Death Valley on Sunday, driving on the Wildrose Canyon road into the park, when suddenly I saw this enormous flower sticking out of a rock. I hit the brakes, pulled over, and Rocket Boy and I got out to take a look at it. That's a measuring tape next to it. The thing was nearly 2 feet tall!
I'm sitting here looking at my to-do list, checking off what I've done and wondering what else I'll do today. Making dinner is probably not avoidable, working on taxes definitely is. As I ponder my list, I'm listening to "Hidden Desert: a Tribute to Thin White Rope." http://thehiddendesert.blogspot.com/ This requires a little explanation.
The first time I came to Ridgecrest, in 1979, for a punk rock concert, I met some pretty cool guys, friends of the friend who'd invited me down. (Actually I invited myself, but whatever.) I lost touch with my friend a few years later and thus with his friends. Flash forward 31 years to last summer, when I wrote a memory piece about that trip. The story is called "Ridgecrest Revisited" and it's included in an anthology my writing club is publishing, Planet Mojave (http://planetmojave.com/).
Anyway, it turned out that another member of my writing group actually knew most of the people I mentioned in the story, because her son was in their circle. She noted that one of them, Guy Kyser, had played in a fairly successful band. After a bit of detective work I discovered that Guy's band was called Thin White Rope, and it was quite popular during the 1980s and early 1990s, especially in Europe.
So I watched videos of TWR on YouTube, and ordered a few of their CDs from Amazon, but I have to admit that what I like best (so far anyway) is this tribute site. Most of the bands who contributed songs are actually European -- French, Italian, German, British, even Serbian. So you get these amusing pronunciations and little funny bits, like the singer counting "One two three, eins zwei drei" as the song begins. The Italian guy who sings the "Triangle" song has a particularly lovely accent. Guy Kyser had a very distinctive voice -- "gravelly" doesn't even begin to describe it -- and I find him a little hard to listen to. Most of these tributes are easier. What can I say? I'm old, I don't do punk anymore (though TWR's sound is actually described as "desert rock").
But Guy's songwriting skills were impressive. Some of the songs are really disturbing and/or moving. I like "The Red Red Sun," "Hidden Lands," "Sack Full of Silver," "Astronomy," and "Up to Midnight." Remember that Guy grew up in Ridgecrest. Many of his songs sound like they're about his hometown.
This little town
will drag you down
Your old car
has broken down
On your right
is everyone
On your left
the red red sun
Welcome to Ridgecrest. I feel as though I've found another key to this place.
And now, for the wildflower enthusiasts among you, here are a few more photos from the field near our house.
This is probably Fremont pincushion. It's something pincushion anyway (there are several varieties).
This is called Brown-eyed primrose (sorry, not a very good shot, but on the positive side, you get to see a little bit of Baby A's shoe).
And this, this is impressive. It's some kind of a Sunray, possibly a Panamint daisy (I need a more comprehensive wildflower book). We were in Death Valley on Sunday, driving on the Wildrose Canyon road into the park, when suddenly I saw this enormous flower sticking out of a rock. I hit the brakes, pulled over, and Rocket Boy and I got out to take a look at it. That's a measuring tape next to it. The thing was nearly 2 feet tall!
Saturday, April 2, 2011
And now we have two
When I went out this morning to check on our late-sleeping tortoise, I saw a tortoise walking around in the pen -- and it was her! Tortoise #1 wasn't up yet, but tortoise #2 was up and out of her burrow at last. I was SO glad we didn't have to dig up her burrow. Best for her to come out on her own.
A few minutes later, tortoise #1 emerged from the other burrow. Apparently even though they spent the winter in one burrow, they've decided to separate for spring. Or maybe it was just that night.
Anyway, here is tortoise #2 having her first dousing of the season:
As you can see, she wasn't terribly impressed by the hydration process. After a bit, Rocket Boy came out to see her and he decided she needed a real bath, a scrubbing. I pointed out that tortoises in the wild don't ever have scrubbings, but he was not interested. He filled a big tub with warm water and proceeded to wash all the dirt off her with a scrub brush.
Then we fixed up a little tub of cool water and set it in the sun and her in it. Here she is having her second swim (or third, if you count the scrubbing), while two little people look on.
After a while she walked out of this bath, so we put her back in her pen, upon which she promptly went back down in her burrow. I didn't blame her!
But a few hours later she came up again, and she and tortoise #1 basked in the late afternoon sun. Ah, the life of a tortoise. Little do they know they're soon to move to new homes. We will miss them when they go.
A few minutes later, tortoise #1 emerged from the other burrow. Apparently even though they spent the winter in one burrow, they've decided to separate for spring. Or maybe it was just that night.
Anyway, here is tortoise #2 having her first dousing of the season:
As you can see, she wasn't terribly impressed by the hydration process. After a bit, Rocket Boy came out to see her and he decided she needed a real bath, a scrubbing. I pointed out that tortoises in the wild don't ever have scrubbings, but he was not interested. He filled a big tub with warm water and proceeded to wash all the dirt off her with a scrub brush.
Then we fixed up a little tub of cool water and set it in the sun and her in it. Here she is having her second swim (or third, if you count the scrubbing), while two little people look on.
After a while she walked out of this bath, so we put her back in her pen, upon which she promptly went back down in her burrow. I didn't blame her!
But a few hours later she came up again, and she and tortoise #1 basked in the late afternoon sun. Ah, the life of a tortoise. Little do they know they're soon to move to new homes. We will miss them when they go.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Tortoise update and wildflower primer
"There she is, Miss America..." Actually the song I keep singing to tortoise #2 is "Come out come out wherever you are..." As you can see (I hope you can see), she is alive and moving, and we did not have to poke her. We found a good stick, got down on our hands and knees in the tortoise pen, shone a flashlight down the burrow -- and there she was, looking at us! She's about halfway up the burrow in this picture -- still too far down for us to reach, but definitely closer than she was last night.
So I took a few flash pictures of her (I'm actually holding the camera down into the burrow and snapping blindly), we sprayed a little water down in the burrow to give her a taste of what she could have if she'd come out, and she promptly turned around and went back down. Oops.
So tomorrow we're going to see if she tries again (and there will be NO flash photography and NO sprays of water), but if she doesn't come all the way out, we'll probably dig her out. Then she can have a bath and start waking up a little more. The other tortoise had a nice day today, walked all over the pen and ate some green leaves.
As promised, here are some wildflowers! I finally managed to bring my camera on a morning walk. This was actually taken in our front yard. The yellow flowers are desert dandelions and the little purple flowers are red stem filaree.
This is a fairly common one, not so pretty, but we can't all be beautiful. It's called fiddleneck.
I'm pretty sure this is pygmy-leaved lupine. It's also fairly common in the field near us.
This one is not at all common out here. It's called blue dicks and is found all over the state, but from the pictures I've seen, it's usually much fluffier and prettier elsewhere. This must be the desert version -- small, drab. Figures. I think it's nice, though. Grows from a bulb.
And here we have the tiny yellow flower called goldfields, because they appear to turn fields gold. (Lots of desert dandelions are mixed in there too.)
I will post more photos as we find more flowers. I love this time of year.
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