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.

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:

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.

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?)

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:

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

Spring is here, and summer too

OK! I haven't been posting here for quite a while, so it feels very weird to be back. But here I am, back.

While I've been gone (from the blog, that is), spring has really sprung here, and now along comes summer. I was driving down China Lake Boulevard today and the electronic sign said it was 90 degrees! On March 31st! I was not happy about that. Tomorrow it is supposed to be 91. It's going to be cooler on the weekend and next week, but really, 90 degrees in March. Not necessary.

We had some fabulous storms this month too, including one about ten days ago that resulted in this gorgeous snow on the mountains west of town (that's the southernmost tip of the Sierra Nevada range).

Pretty cool, no? Our little valley is entirely surrounded by mountains, and after this storm the mountains to the north were also snow covered, but I didn't get any photos of them.

But now it is spring again, or rather summer, and there are wildflowers everywhere. Last spring we were so good about learning the names of all the flowers, and now I find that I have forgotten almost all those names. But there is no time like the present for learning them all over again, and in any case the boos don't know the names and might like to learn them, so we are starting to work on that. Baby B recognizes one flower, the desert dandelion, and as we walk along he points them out, except he just calls them dandelions. I say "Yes!" and then add, pedantically, "DESERT dandelions." I'll try to post some wildflower photos soon.

We have also been seeing quail almost every day, rabbits, and today I saw a lizard. The first lizard of spring, or rather summer.

With all this warm weather, one of our tortoises has decided to come up out of her burrow and rejoin the living. She came up a couple of weeks ago, but then went back down again when it got cold. Last weekend she came up again, so we gave her a bath in order to rehydrate her. Here she is having a bath.

Isn't she sweet? The other tortoise, however, has not made an appearance, and this is unfortunate, since there are folks out there eagerly waiting to adopt her. Tonight we shone a flashlight down in the burrow, and there she is -- she didn't somehow vanish into the earth or anything like that. But she's not coming out. So tomorrow we are going to try to get her out.

How does one get a tortoise out of a burrow, you may ask. Well, the first thing we have been told to do is to poke her with something, like a stick. She is six feet down in the ground, but I am thinking a broomstick might work, or maybe the non-sharp end of a hoe. Rocket Boy is home tomorrow, it being Flex Friday, so we will work on this together. One of us will hold a flashlight while the other one pokes. If the tortoise moves her legs, we will know she is alive. If she does not move her legs, we will know that she is either dead or sick. If she moves her legs, there is a chance that she will then walk out of the burrow. If not, or if she doesn't move her legs, we will probably have to dig her out. Stay tuned for further developments, which I will try to report on tomorrow.

Wind

I believe I mentioned, a few posts back, that it hasn't been so windy this year. That was true, a few posts back. No, it's still true -- overall, it's been less windy. But Sunday and Monday we had a wind storm, so now I'm all jacked up again about Ridgecrest being windy. And since spring is really just getting started, we could have just as much wind this year as last.

Bad winds out here are called "termination winds," because in the early days bad wind storms would cause people to terminate their employment with the Navy at China Lake.

Apparently yesterday it was so bad that they actually closed Highway 14 to big rigs and campers/RVs. A big rig blew over and that was the end of that. The Daily Independent even wrote an editorial about how to drive in the wind, the gist of which was "Don't."

I drove to the grocery store in the wind yesterday, taking care to open my car door slowly and carefully so that all my shopping bags wouldn't blow away, as happened once last year. When I was leaving the store, I found that the automatic doors weren't working -- they were just sort of waving gently in the wind -- so I had to shove one of them open in order to get out. Then, in the parking lot, I heard a scream, and watched as a cart went zooming across the lot toward a car. A man bravely grabbed it before it hit and returned it to a young woman with a baby. I was careful to return my cart to the cart-return place, but the wind actually almost blew it away anyway.

The twins and I tried to take a walk that morning, but the wind got much worse after we'd gone half a block, and we had to cut it short. The boys sat in their stroller and pulled their sun shades down to block the wind, while I valiantly pushed against the wind to get us home.

In the afternoon, after my shopping trip, I sat at my computer and tried to concentrate, but the howling wind got under my skin.

Boulder actually has worse winds than Ridgecrest, but they're not as frequent. And they don't involve dust clouds.

I suppose I should make some comment about the metaphorical wind blowing in change, but it just wasn't a metaphorical wind. That said, change would be welcome.

Another busy Saturday

Another busy Saturday spent anywhere but Ridgecrest.

The liberal salon meeting this month was not on the first Friday night at someone's house in Ridgecrest or Inyokern, it was on the first Saturday afternoon (i.e., today) at someone's house in Weldon. Weldon is 55 miles west of us, in the bucolic Kern River Valley on Highway 178. We couldn't really go to the salon proper, since we'd have the twins with us (though NEARLY three years old, the twins aren't quite ready for long discussions of political issues), but we thought we'd drop by and say hi, in case no other Ridgecrest liberals felt up to making the drive.

It turned out that many people felt up to it -- the place was packed. So we wandered around the gorgeous property for an hour, walked down to the river, ate a few snacks, talked to a few people about health care and how evil Republicans are, and then took our leave before the twins either fell over a cliff or broke a precious art object (both of which appeared likely to happen at any moment).

We then continued west on 178, and then north on 155, because we were hoping to do a little sledding. Now, it was warm today, in the 70s in Ridgecrest. At the salon party we mentioned to a few people that we were going to look for some snow and everyone kind of shook their heads and said "hmm." As we drove up Highway 155 northwest of Wofford Heights, it was very warm in the car and we saw not a trace of snow on any of the mountains around us. Oh well, we thought, might as well drive all the way to Greenhorn Mountain County Park (where we went sledding last year) and then turn around.

But as we approached the park, we were pleasantly surprised.

Even though there was no snow anywhere else, there was a lot of snow on that mountain. So we got out our double sled and Rocket Boy pulled the boys around a bit. The only problem was that Baby A got upset and didn't want to go any further, so then RB just pulled Baby B. Baby A and I walked back to the car -- where I guess he felt safe -- and then spent our time throwing snowballs. Or rather, I threw snowballs. He claimed not to be able to make a snowball while wearing his big mittens. So I made snowball after snowball after snowball, and attempted, at his direction, to throw them at various trees and signs.

After a while Rocket Boy and Baby B returned.

We changed out of our wet things and piled back into the car, feeling pleased with ourselves. Then, since we were all the way up there already anyway, we went over to Kernville and played in the park for a while. And then we drove to Lake Isabella for a quick dinner before heading home.

Here's a restaurant that will be glad never to see us again. Honestly, is it possible that the Threes are going to be worse than the Twos??? Baby B spent the entire dinner standing up on his seat in our booth, smearing up the glass on the window, while Baby A spent the entire dinner UNDER the booth table, occasionally rolling out into the aisle for the waitress to trip on him. When we tried to make them sit in their seats, they screamed.

But the worst thing happened before our food came. Rocket Boy took Baby A out a side door to the smokers' patio just to keep him occupied for a little while. Baby B, who had refused to go with them, suddenly got out of his seat (ignoring me), and walked quickly across the restaurant to the front door. Before my astonished eyes he opened the front door and left the restaurant. I jumped out of my seat and ran after him, but when I got to the front door and looked out, he had vanished. Finally I found him -- he had gone to the patio via a different route. I was so mad at him I was nearly speechless, but eventually I found the words to tell him what a bad boy he'd been. I'm sure it made no impression at all.

All the long dark way home over Walker Pass, as Baby A snoozed, Baby B kept saying to me: "Mommy?"
Me: "Yes, honey?"
Baby B: "Mommy, I got a idea."
Me: "What's your idea, honey?"
Baby B: "Birthday!"

So you can see what was on his mind -- not his behavior, anyway. We're thinking maybe we can't go to any more restaurants for a while, maybe not until they're four. I'll let you know how that goes.

Hello March

The photo above is of a yard on our street in Ridgecrest. We love to walk past this tortoise any day, but especially now, in early March, when he has daffodils and hyacinths in his circle, not just cactus.

When I lived in Michigan I really didn't like the month of March -- drab, gray, cold, muddy, ugly -- and when I lived in Colorado I was too busy digging out from all the enormous snowstorms that occur during March to have an opinion about it. But in California, March is a pretty month. Can be cool, can be rainy, but it's usually beautifully green (even in Ridgecrest) and flowers start to bloom. The desert wildflowers are more toward April, but they're starting. I saw a desert dandelion in our front yard (the side with just dirt) this morning.

So here we are in March, here we are in Year 3 in Ridgecrest. Coming up in a couple of days is my daddy's birthday (he's been gone nearly 22 years now), and then a few days after that, the twins will turn three. We have been talking about birthdays a lot and they seem to be getting the idea. Tonight as I was saying goodnight to them, Baby B said to me, "I got a idea, Mommy." I leaned down and asked him what his idea was, and he said "Birthday!" I agreed that yes, his birthday was coming, next week in fact. I need to go to the little toy store in town and buy some more Thomas trains or something. We'll just give them a couple of gifts on their actual birthday and I think I'll let them open the presents from the San Luis Obispo cousins then too.

Then on the weekend we're going to Los Angeles to celebrate with the rest of the family. Should be quite the social event of the season.

We (i.e., they) are getting so big. Here we are in the field behind our subdivision, in an area we call the "White Rocks" because someone dumped some extra white rocks there once. So many of the white rocks have been removed since then (some by us -- we used them to fill in a hole on our patio) that it hardly still deserves the name. We like to go there and run around on all the little hills. This is the only time all year that it's so green.

The (real) tortoises aren't up yet. Still hibernating, deep down in their burrow (we're almost positive they're both in the same one). I'm quite interested in when they will make an appearance. Both of them are spoken for -- there's a long list of people in Ridgecrest who want to adopt tortoises. We'll miss them when they're gone. Maybe I won't tell the club IMMEDIATELY when they do come up -- maybe we'll enjoy them ourselves for a week or two before bidding them farewell.

I can tell they're not up yet because their pen is full of green stuff (if they were up, they'd be chowing it all down). Come up tortoises, I want to tell them. Come up and eat. Spring is (nearly) here!