my sandbox

So, this past weekend I went to my folks’ house for the 4th. We were going to go to Newport overnight on the sailboat (not on the aforementioned party boat) but we got rained out.

We ended up grillin’ out at the boatyard (steaks, pot-tate-toes, corn on the cob) and then going out on someone else’s motorboat to watch the fireworks off the North Kingstown town beach. Which was also nice, ‘cept for the part where I had too much wine, and felt poorly the next day.

Previous weekend, I went to see my friends Jessica and Jeff, who live in Our Fair City, Cambridge, MA. Jessica is currently pregnant, which I was able to capture on film but which photos I am not allowed to share with the general populace, which is a shame, cause she’s a good-lookin’ pregnant woman. We made french toast, then went canoeing on the Charles (upstream of Boston a ways), then went to this guy’s 60th birthday party, then the next day went to Dim Sum. Everyone always raves about Dim Sum, which is somewhat baffling to me as all we were able to get out of the experience were a bunch of mysteriously dense dumpling like items stuffed with equally mysterious fillings. There was this thing that was kinda like bread wrapped in noodles, which I quite liked, but other than that, not much goin’ on. Jessica and I did concede that perhaps it would have helped to go with someone who knew what they were doing.

Weekend before that, I went to see Ken and Kim down on the Maryland Shore. They live near Chincoteague and Assoteague, which are those island with the wild ponies. Here’s one now:

Apparently their bellies become bloated and round because they ingest so much salt as they graze. I imagine they must be used to it, but it sounds uncomfortable. Ken and Kim and I also went bird banding, and had ice cream, and seafood (my belly became bloated and round, and uncomfortable), and went to the zoo, where I took around a gazillion pictures of a peacock. Oh, all right, here’s a couple of them:

That about catches you up with my weekend doings, for now. On the horizon, I have a trip to Philly and some visitors from Arlington, MA, which is good, cause it seems that not much goes on around here of a weekend.

NZC quotes some other dude’s post on the topic of being accomplished.

The dude’s observation is both apt and apropos, though when I think of accomplishment (seeing as how my brain has been turned by too much 19th c. literature) I tend to think of it in the Jane Austen sense of the word.

This being the case, I didn’t pay as much attention as I might to the observation itself (as one might expect from the haphazard and dilettantish approach I take to so many endeavors). Travis has a far more considered and mature response to the whole thing, accomplished individual that he is (though not up to his own standards…).

I was far more entranced by Nick’s pithy invocation of Shelley’s poem Ozymandias. Sometimes his ability to coin a catchy phrase approaches the sublime.

And, while we’re about the business of admiring Nick, he’s also responsible for shaming me into this latest fitful spasm of blogging activity by chastising my slackfulness. Mom, thank Nick. Or not, depending on how you feel about that previous post.

Update:  oops, d’oh - forgot to give cred for the quote that’s entirely too long to be a post title.

It’s been a while, I know. Sorry, Mom.

A few weeks back we went to a party at Hilary’s house for our friend Ramiro, who had been imprisoned in Oaxaca last year, basically for being in the wrong place at the wrong time at a teacher’s strike. Lots of you already know the details: if you don’t, check out this Amnesty International Action Alert. He’s free now, and with his wife and two kids. This summer they moved up to Eugene, Oregon, where Ram has been doing some bird work.

It was purely amazing to see Ram free, and healthy and happy, and with his incredible wife and two great kids. Again, a huge thank you to all of you who took the time to sign the petition, write letters, donate money and give good advice. Here’s some pictures that Kerry took- I stole them off his Flickr site. Go here to see the rest.

Joshua and Cami, Ram and Ruth’s really cute kids.

Here’s Ruth helping Joshi to some pie.

Ramiro and Joshua.

Ramiro and Kerry. This is at the point in the evening when Ram had entered the “I love you, man. No, really, I love you, man!” stage.

A recent blog post from Travis, wherein he recounts a conversation we had via email:

Kelly: In other news, sadly, it’s a “long wait” on Netflix for Rome season 2 disc 1.

TJIC: Not for me, @#$% !! UPS delivered it to me at 8am today, and I am *** SO *** watching it tonight. Nyah!

Kelly: I’m on vacation for a week and a half

TJIC: This whole capitalist vs. hippy lifestyle war has both its winning (Rome, season 2), and losing (vacation) battles. Damn you!

I would just like to note that I returned from vacation to find Rome Season 2 Disc 1 awaiting me in my mailbox. Double damn me!

Later on Friday of last week we headed out to Inverness to meet up with some friends and have a picnic. Our friend Lisa chose the spot, which Victor and I hadn’t been to before; a bench atop Mt. Vision in the Point Reyes National Seashore.

Our buddy Bob and his buddy Eric from Montana joined us. We had cheese and crackers and bread and chips and salsa and olives and wine and beer. Here’s some pics that Victor took.

Since I haven’t gotten around yet to telling anyone about my blog, I’d like to send a shout out to my three faithful readers, Scott, Travis, and Nick Guam. Thanks, guys. I couldn’t do it without you. You’re the best.

Italo Calvino, in some essay that I forget the name of, says something like (and I paraphrase) “When you are old, everyone you see wears the face of a dead man”, the idea being that, 1) Old people have seen a lot of faces so everyone reminds them of someone else, 2) Being old, most of the people they have seen are now dead.

Today on the Stanford campus, when I was making my library run, everyone I saw wore the face of Clark Cotton. He’s this guy I knew in Laramie. It was just one of those things. Weird, huh?

This is Jenny.

Victor and I used to pass Jenny every day on our way to work, when we worked where we used to work. When I first saw Jenny, I thought she was a mule, and I had some vague recollection that female mules are called “jennies” and male mules are called “jacks.” So, we started calling her Jenny.

We soon discovered that Jenny was equipped with male genitalia, but not wanting her to feel judged about her lifestyle choice we continued as before. She never said anything, but I sensed that she was grateful that we accepted her for who she was.

But now, I’m not even sure she’s really a mule. Her ears seem too short.

Jenny winters somewhere else (when we were in the Yucatan in March of 2005 we thought we saw her down there), so as the time neared when I was to leave my old workplace back in early April, I feared I would never see Jenny again. She returned from her winter quarters just three days before my last day of work. I was happy to have a chance to see Jenny one last time.

If you want to see Jenny yourself, look for her between April and October on the Point Reyes Station-Petaluma road in Marin County, California. She’s closer to Point Reyes Station, on the right as you’re driving towards Petaluma.