Hmmm....

I thought I had mentioned this before, but I can't find it anywhere.

At this point, it looks like I will be going on a hike in France in early September.

I'm actually looking forward to this treck, both for the hike and the sites. One of the stops, Rennes le Chateau, is vaguely related to Rosslyn Chapel in Scotland. Both were mentioned in the Da Vinci Code and are said to have a connection with the Templars and possibly the Holy Grail. Whether any of this is true or not, it is history of a sort, and history of all types fascinates me.

So, now I struggle to get my fat slovenly body into condition in time for an extended hike. A task made all the more challenging by the late SoCal winter. Three out of four weekends in a row now we have had rain, which means lower snow levels in the mountains and flash flood warnings. And that means no conditioning hikes and no mountain hiking for me this weekend, once again. Well, there's the possibility of a hike on Sunday if Monday's storm doesn't decide to come in early. The alternatives--speed hiking at the local nature trail (with a weighted pack to make it more challenging), or incline training on the treadmill at the gym. The gym won't let me wear a pack while on the treadmill. It's considered to be "street clothing".

On another note, for any women out there that have been looking for a good technical day pack, there are two in the Jansport line that I really like. The Luna (25 liter) and the Penelope (35 liter). Both are hydration pack ready, and also offer the ability to carry two 1 liter (1 quart) water bottles. Ok, these are not exactly inexpensive packs, and I'm not really fond of the bright girly colours, but if you're not picky about the colour and you're willing to do some looking around, it is possible to get these packs for approximately half the retail price. I did. And, honestly, I don't know if it's the fact that these packs were designed specifically for women or if I've just learned to balance the load better, but for a change my back and shoulders do not hurt at the end of a long day of hiking. In fact, most of the time I don't even notice that I am wearing a pack. I can't say that about the pack I carry to work five days a week.

Move one book and ....

Ever wanted one of those magical bookcases or fireplaces that open up to reveal a secret passage or room on the other side? How about a staircase that lifts up to reveal a hidden entrance to the basement,Munsters style?

Well, here's the company that can do it for you.

If It Arrives In A National Geographic Email, It Must Be True

Housefly Gets Glasses Made With Lasers

March 28, 2006—Pampering pets with designer goods isn't so unusual—and now even your houseflies can get outfitted in style.

An entry in a German science-photo competition, this image shows a fly sporting a set of "designer" lenses crafted and set in place with a cutting-edge laser technique. The glasses fit snuggly on the fly's 0.08-inch-wide (2-millimeter-wide) head.

Manufacturing firm Micreon GmbH submitted the insect's picture for the Bilder der Forschung (Photos of Science) 2005 competition. Selected images were on display last week in a Munich shopping center.

Micreon, based in Hannover, Germany (see map), created the fly's eyewear using ultrafast laser micro-machining. The firm notes on its Web site that the process can create objects with high precision at scales of less than a thousandth of a millimeter.

—Victoria Gilman

What is home?

The definition is different for everyone. It might be a place, a time, a memory, a group of people or even just a thing. All hold in common, for most of us, pleasant memories of a past we wish we could hold onto forever. Usually, it is the house we grew up in. I had never really thought much about this until recently when I listened to a few friends telling their children about their memories of their own childhood. Most of my friends seem to have spent their formative years living in one or two houses/places. These they define as home. They can name all of their teachers from K-12 and some can even tell me what they liked or disliked about each of those teachers. Many are still friends with people they met in grade school. When they hear how often I moved, how many schools I attended (approximately 17)--we moved more often--they tell me that I really have no place I can refer to as home. I disagree. Home is that entity that you form an attachment too, no matter how long or short a time you are in its proximity. It could be a house, school, a place, etc.... Whatever it is, it is home to you.

To me home, or at least my perception of it, as the place of my childhood memories consists of three houses in northern Washington state. More precisely two houses in the foothills outside of Port Angeles and one in town on the corner of 8th and A, just three houses down from the entry to one of the 8th street bridges--there are two. Here I lived for four years. Four years and four schools. Queen of Angels (old and falling apart even then), Lincoln Elementary (now a museum), Stevens Junior High (then the newest school in town), and Roosevelt Junior High.

I met my first best friends here, Suzi and Barbara, though I knew each for less than a year before I moved or switched schools. The first teachers that I can remember were here as well. Sister Margaret (everyone's favourite), Sister Kathleen and Father Daniel (think Bing Crosby in Bells of St. Mary's and any other movie that he played the role of a priest). Ok, so Father Daniel had an affair with a married woman and later left his calling to be with her. I didn't know any of that back then, and even Queen of Angels had a right to a bit of soap operatic drama. He and Sister M. were my first favourite teachers and had a profound effect on my religious choices. Note, I didn't end up Catholic.

At Lincoln Elementary there was Mr. Born. He taught me how to play basketball, baseball, soccer on the ice, and how to use a jig saw and tin snips. He was always spraining his ankle, and once he got his hand caught in a kitchen mixer.

Mrs. Lisenberry at Stevens JH gave me confidence in my artistic abilities and paid her babysitters really well. Yep, I was one of them. And let's not forget Mr. Duce at Roosevelt JH, who encouraged my scientific endeavours and spoiled me rotten.

I have memories of other places too, Wren, Phylomouth, Corvalis, Spokane, Prosser, Moses Lake, Sandpoint, and oh so many other towns. None of these stick in my memory as fondly as Port Angeles.

My point--home is, as the saying goes, where the heart is. It is the place in your memories that stands out as the brightest, shiniest, warmest light. The place that you always look back to with fondness and remember when you need comfort. Our perceptions change when we become adults, but for all of us, no matter how short or long our stay, there is always that first root home that we remember.

Movies seen

Ok, I'm a little late at updating these. In fact, I am so late that I am certain I will forget some of them, so feel free to ask if I have seen one that I haven't mentioned.

Eight Below::Not an award winner, but definitely will pull at your heart, especially if you are a fan of dogs. It was worth seeing. Excellent scenery and effects. The dogs were beautiful, and their emotions and trials came through well on film.

UltraViolet::If you like comic books converted to movies, you will like this one. And it actually has a message. There are even vampires, well, of a sort. Just don't expect to see any blood sucking or blood baths. It's not that type of movie.

V for Vendetta::Another movie with a message. Excellent acting. V stands for more than Vendetta, by the way. I will probably have to see this movie again, simply because I was exhausted from a long day of hiking in freezing weather--I got hailed on, rained on, and I slipped into the icey water four times. I ended up soaked to just below the knees for several hours. At least I can say I did not once feel like walking out of the movie. When I went in to see it, I was certain that I would be demanding readmits.

Aquamarine::A cute movie for coming of age young teen girls. That's a mouthful, huh. With my nieces in mind, I enjoyed this mermaid Barbie comes to life and sorta, kinda, maybe falls in love movie.

Pink Panther::A fun matinee, as all Pink Panther movies should be. There's even a love interest. Ok, so I did fall asleep in the middle of the movie for a very short time, but that was due to another long day of hiking and had nothing to do with what was happening on the screen. I only wish I could remember the original movies that my father used to watch whenever they came on the tv. I wonder if they are available on dvd?

And that's it for now. I know I've seen more, though not as many as I usually do. I just can't remember all of them. Maybe my mind is finally beginning to rot? :-)

Yet another hiking entry

For those of you who are interested in getting in shape for a hike, whether it is short and easy or long and difficult, check out Body Results. You will find a great deal of training advice on this site, and, if you want, you can even get an on-line trainer. The Schurman's are friendly, offer excellent suggestions for your particular situation (even if you haven't paid for it), and give terrific customer service. I ordered three items from their web site. One will be here Tuesday, the second was out of stock, so, as compensation I received the third (and least expensive) item at no charge and will be receiving a more advanced model of the out of stock item at no extra charge.

Happy St. Patrick's Day To All!!!

Two greeting cards from the past to share.

Who needs to read anymore???--a jumble of random thoughts

Have you ever wondered...are we becoming a readerless society? Is the written language being forced into obscelesence by the influx of new data storage and retrieval methods. Is our society becoming ever more video and audio oriented?

What does all of this say about our future? Is it good or bad?

I know the questions seem endless, maybe even pointless, but somehow I can't help but wonder. To me learning to read was like breaking a code or solving a puzzle. The alphabet was my key to knowledge, to the worlds of other peoples imaginations. With it I was able to unlock the door to a boundless plane filled with creations, discoveries and possibilities enough even to keep my bottomless curiosity sustained and constantly coming back for more.

And so it puzzles me when I realize how many people I know, my age and younger, who will not pick up a book, paper or electronic, and read unless they absolutely have to. It's not that they have anything against reading, at least not so far as I can tell. They can read. They google information when they must. They simply don't see the point in reading something as thick as a novel or a history tome, when they can get the same or similar information from a movie or audio source. I see a future coming when even these sources will seem outdated, when all you will have to do to acquire knowledge on a subject is step up to a vending machine, speak what you want, slide your atm card (or whatever form of currency we are then using) and receive an injection of Sherlock Holmes best know tales or Einsteins Theory of Relativity directly into your brain. No learning or reading required. You will simply know.

And I wonder, is this progress? Is this really such a bad thing? Would I be among the first to step up and try this new fangled device or would I be sitting back among the old fogies who are reading their bound paper books and their e-books, wondering what the heck is wrong with the kids these days? How could they have forgotten their alphabet? Do they still know what magic and imagination are? Can they still think for themselves? Will they still be able to discover and learn, to invent? Or will all knowledge simply have become an imprinted process, and all genious and determination have been irradicated?

The questions seem simple enough and redundant, but they are not necessarily easy to answer. There have been societies (cultures?) on our world that did not have written forms of communication. (Sorry, I didn't have time to google it, so I don't have an example.) What did their old-timers think when the kids came home and said, the heck with all this story telling and verbal history. How can you possibly expect us to remember everything you say. If we write it down, we don't have to remember. We can just look it up later.

Would the reaction of the older members of that society, a society that was gaining a written language, really be all that different from their counterparts in ours, a society that may well be losing written language, albeit very slowly. And are we really losing anything, or is it simply becoming archaic. The knowledge is still there. It is still being stored. We can still look it up when we need it. Maybe, we're just growing up and progressing on to yet another higher level in our mental evolution--leaving behind a tool, a crutch, that was only a temporary bandage and is no longer needed.

Squeaky Bed Memories

I have a friend who has a beautiful and immaculate home. I visit as often as I can, not because of the home, but because of the company. Every time I visit though, there is one concern he mentions--the bed in the downstairs guestroom squeaks. He wonders, was it put together incorrectly, or if there is another reason for the high pitched metallic groans it emits every time a guest shifts position on the mattress. Does the noise bother me, he asks. Does it keep me awake? To which I answer, no, of course not. But I never continue on to tell him that I actually enjoy the squeaks. They bring back fond memories. Memories of holidays spent in the dormitory in my paternal grandparents basement, where all four beds squeaked. Their familiar sounds lulling my brothers and sisters and I into peaceful slumber while we dreamed of the morning's delights to come, left by such wonderful beings as the Easter Bunny and St. Nickolas.

My grandfather was no fool, though. The father of six daughters, he knew the worth of a squeaky bed and its many purposes. The embarrassment factor of such a bed alone, worked far better than any chastity belt he could have devised. I have no idea how chaste my aunts actually were, but nothing untoward ever happened under grandpa's roof. By the squeak of the bed, he could also tell which daughter had come home after curfew and the locking of the doors. At least one of my aunts was known for sneaking in through the basement window and using her bed as a landing pad. One of the very same beds that I slept on in that basement dormitory as a young child.

So, my answer to my friend, who worries that a squeaking bed might keep me up at night--this guest at least, enjoys the fond memories and snatches of family stories that those creaky squealing noises beneath the mattress bring back.

Vegas again

Until recently, I had been to Las Vegas exactly once in my life--to see shows, not to gamble--and that was 12 years, maybe more, ago. Well, this year I have been back twice to visit friends. This last trip, a week ago, some of my friends insisted that I visit the strip again. Honestly, I really had no great desire to do so, but I also saw no harm in it. Plus, there was the added temptation of the Ruben's exhibit (unfortunately, photos were not allowed). So off I went, and I had a wonderful time, even if only for a couple of hours.

Here is a sampling of the very few photos I was able to take during that time. Warning--these are touristy shots, not professional.

Inside and outside the Venetian










The heralding angels of Ceaser's Palace look out on the Eifel Tower of the Paris.



And inside




In front of the Mirage

Stubborn as a Mule

Yes, I'm talking about me.

At the moment, it looks like I will not be making a hiking trek outside of the US for some time, if ever. Actually, I will probably be really lucky if I ever get to take a hike outside of my local area. I am just too out of shape and condition--that's right, I'm too fat, too lazy, too slow. No matter how much I work out that is unlikely to change--at least it hasn't so far. And chances of my ever being able to keep up with my friends or a group are not good. I just can't seem to break a 17 minute mile on pavement--level or inclined--and I can only hold that pace for about 3 miles max. ( It's not unusual for it to stretch to a 20 minute mile if I'm not paying attention.) Which I suppose makes sense, since I only have time to fit in 3, 3 mile walks a day on the weekdays. I prefer to save my longer hikes for the actual trail.

I was feeling really good about my accomplishments over the last couple of months. I'd managed to increase my walking distance per day--tripled it--and started trail hiking. All without injury or pain or even strain. I was having fun. And last week, after putting in a great deal of time to find the right shoes, I started running again. It was just a 1 mile jog walk. I didn't bother telling anyone about it because I knew it would seem silly and trivial to all my friends, but to me it was a miracle. Running without any pain to an old injury that was supposed to keep me from ever being able to run again was more than thrilling. It was like flying. It wasn't the first time I tried, but always before I had failed miserably. I was excited, but still I knew that my minor success would mean nothing to anyone else I care about. That point was driven home quite thoroughly when I decided to tell two of my closest friends. It meant nothing to them, and why should it. Most people take the ability to run for granted. Besides, it was my achievement, not theirs.

So, with all this seeming failure sitting on my shoulders now, am I just going to curl up in a ball under my favourite comforter and let my admittedly small and unremarkable achievements atrophy and fade away into oblivion? Nope, I'm too stubborn for that. I'm still on my walking schedule. I've added incline workouts on the treadmill at the gym. I've contacted the local Sierra Club conditioning hike group to see if they have room for another hiker. If they do, I will add at least one conditioning hike a week to my schedule--I'm in desperate need of a pacer. And, weather permitting, the hope is to continue with one long hike in the hills a weekend. There are strengthening exercises in there somewhere too. Stubborness is sometimes a good trait.

So, what is the hiking schedule for this weekend? Well, assuming the trails are not snowed in or flooded out--we're expecting a lot of rain over the next two or three days--we thought we might attempt the Mount Lowe Railway trail. It's at a higher elevation than the Upper Arroyo Seco trail, and has twice the elevation change. It's also more likely to be snowed in. So, if we can't get to Lowe, and Arroyo Seco is open, we will hit the trailhead no later than 9am and do the full 10 miles with the possible addition of a couple miles of the Bear Canyon trail as well. The big trick--getting my hiking partner to limit photo taking to sign posting and realizing that this time I will leave him behind if his camera causes him to lag.

Ok, I'm not mean and cruel enough to leave him so far behind that he can't possibly catch up with me, but I might think about it. :-)

The Glass Eye Opens

A photography blog.

There's not much to see yet, and I don't know if I will be able to keep it up for long, but here we go.

The Glass Eye