Book Report

Well here it is, my last post of 2021. I'd like to say that 2021 was a banner year for blogging. It was not. I had more than twice as many posts in 2020. Still, some stories were shared, laughs were had, grumblings were aired, as I plodded away through the year. And it was a banner year in at least one aspect - as I finally got into my new place and said goodbye to apartment living. Forever.

Today, the world said goodbye forever to Betty White. Just shy of 100, the TV and film icon seemed like she would outlast everyone. But in the end, even she has to make that great journey into the unknown beyond. Seems like this should be an even bigger story than the New Year that's currently occupying most network television airwaves.

But now that I've moved on (literally and figuratively) and started over on my new life, my new journey into my own great unknown, here we are saying goodbye to yet another year that was marred by a worldwide pandemic that some deny exists and most are at least tired of acknowledging exists. Good bye, 2021, good bye. 

So what have I done to ring in the New Year? Well first off, it's not quite 10pm here so we still have a little over two hours to go. Did I watch the ball drop in New York? Nope. Have I or will I give a toast to the New Year? Nope. Well, technically, I did this with my parents and some Barefoot Chardonnay earlier this afternoon. I mean, it was already January 1 somewhere in the world at that point, so it counts, right? Well, before I digress too far, I'll sum up by reiterating what I know I've stated in years past on here. 

It's just another day.

Really, I don't celebrate New Year's Eve. Making resolutions? Nope. I mean if you can't inspire yourself to improve upon whatever it is that torments your soul the rest of the year, no sudden proclamation on this night will do much good to you in the coming days, or weeks, or months. I suppose I shouldn't be so pessimistic, I mean hey, whatever works for you is good I suppose. And truth be told, I have in the past done some celebrating of the New Year (who can forget all those celebrations at Disneyland near and at the turn of the century?). And I've certainly flirted with ideas of things I'd like to at least try and accomplish as another year unfolds. 

And I suppose it should at least, now, be a time for positivity, as we reflect on the past and look to the future.

So in a positive light, and before I get to my book report, I'll mention that I had a banner year in step counts, i.e. walking. Yes, I walked. I walked a lot. 2021 is basically done for that, since I will walk very little over the next two hours. My average daily step count for this year was 13,496, up from 12,537 in 2020. So there, something to cheer about. I'll toast to that! Er...maybe tomorrow. 

And in line with something I started last year (or was it the year before?) - I'd like to report on the books I read. Again, I'm not what you might call a "prolific" or even "avid" reader - I know quite a few people that put me to shame in that regard. But still, I read more than a lot of people seem to these days, and this year I did crank out 9 books in my not-so-copious free time in-between work, raising a kid, all that walking I did, and playing Minecraft. I mean seriously, where was the time to read anything??

But here are the books I read this year, in order (and it bears mentioning that I didn't even finish the first one until May. So, really, I did 8 books in the last 7 months). But here they are: 

Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes - Suzanne Collins
Normal People - Sally Rooney
The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
Anthem - Ayn Rand
Deadeye Dick - Kurt Vonnegut
Galapagos - Kurt Vonnegut
Mother Night - Kurt Vonnegut
Farenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury

And no, I won't actually bore you to tears with a lengthy analytical book report on these. I mean, if you're that interested, go read them yourself. Except maybe Farenheit 451. I actually never read it before, and frankly I don't enjoy his style of writing, with the ridiculously obtuse metaphors and even more ridiculous dialogue. Plus, I'm sure most people were subjected to this in high school, or perhaps college. I somehow avoided it till now. Don't get me wrong, I'm not sorry I read it. But I'm glad it was borrowed from the library and not something I bought. I have a few other Bradbury's on my shelf; someday I'll have to read them and see how they stack up.

In any case, I'm not going to go on and on here. I have to go check in on Connor and make sure he's tucked in for the night anyway. Then I'll spend some quality "me" time - perhaps reading something new to start the New Year off right - before drifting off to sleep for the first of many New Year's in my brand new condo. Positivity!

I hope I don't get woken up at midnight by idiots doing fireworks...

Finally at Home

Here we are, on Christmas Eve, just me and the cat. Because...that's how we roll. Finally...FINALLY...at home. It was only an 8 month delay after all, but at the end of November I finally got the keys to the new place. I started moving in smaller items, slowly but surely, as December got underway. And about two weeks ago the rest of my stuff got moved in on one brisk Saturday morning. So now, two weeks later, and a lot of unpacking and settling is done...but still a bit more to go. It's a process. But it's nice to finally be somewhere that feels like home. And just in time for Christmas! 

Connor spent Christmas Eve day here, and the rest of the family came over. Cookies were made, pizza was eaten, mimosas and wine were drunk - and Connor even got to open some presents. It was a nice day all around.

And later, after the family had left and the child was nestled all snug in his bed - well he was gone and back with his mom anyway - I went for a walk down to Rockmont Circle. The Fab 40's of Natomas. This was actually my third trip there this year. As I said in a prior year, it's actually better than the Fab 40's, in my opinion. No one selling popcorn or hot cocoa or anything this year, but the displays of lights were still top notch. And even better for me: now I live less than a half mile away. So, why not go back for more holiday cheer? And it's a nice walk, anyway.

And now it's just shy of two hours before Christmas morning. There's always so much buildup to the season and then before you know it, the day is here and then in a flash it will be gone again. And then all the lights and tinsel will come down, the decorations will be put away for another year, and life will go on once more. And hey, in another week we'll be closing out the year and looking forward to 2022. 

And in the meantime, I'll continue settling into my new home and new life here. Finally. 

Thursday Love

So it's Thursday evening and...you know what? Let's give Thursday some love. It's kind of the ugly duckling of the weekdays. The outcast, if you will. Monday is always dreaded as the start of the drudgery of another work week. But at least it gets attention. It gets noticed. Tuesday belongs to tacos, of course. Thank goodness for alliteration. Wednesday is the proverbial hump day, the day of the camel. Friday is the gateway to the weekend. TGIF! Thank goodness it's Friday! Is. What I'll be saying tomorrow. 

But Thursday. It's just kind of...there. What is so special about it? Nothing. Well, I'm enjoying the evening anyway, laying out on the couch and typing away as the TV drones on, playing Law & Order SVU in the background. A simple quiet evening at home. I can't really think of anything, though, that makes Thursdays stand out. Well, this picture was taken last Thursday, and it certainly stands out. But that's all arbitrary.

Maybe we need to come up with something for Thursday to be. Something to make it stand out. So it can finally take its place of honor among the rest of the weekdays. Something to give it a chance to be...special. 

Isn't that all anyone wants anyway? To be special, in a world crammed full of ordinary individuals who don't really stand out from one another. Not really. Not in anyway that matters, anyway, in the grand scheme of things. We're all just Thursdays. Isn't that weird? Everyone want to be a Tuesday or a Friday. Even a Monday would be something. But no, no. It's Thursday for all of us. We're just minnows in a sea of fish, as it were.

Thursday Thursday Thursday. I don't know. I'll think of something. The answer is out there, or else trapped here deep in the recesses of my mind somewhere. Thursday will have its day! Well. I mean. It IS a day. But it will find its place to shine, as hopefully we all will.

Dear Glenn Disney

So today I went and saw the movie version of the hit musical Dear Evan Hansen. It was probably folly to do something so emotionally charged on a day already tainted by the emotion of having to release Connor to his mother for the week. But it is what it is.

The movie has been taking all sorts of hits by critics, so I wasn't sure what to expect. Bottom line: it was pretty amazing.

The movie offers, by the nature of cinematography, an opportunity to develop characters as well as present locations and scenery to enhance to story experience. And, really, I think it delivered. The music from the original musical was presented in a clever way through moving scenes of high school life and flashbacks to character's pasts, all things the musical simply cannot effectively do on stage. The vocal performances of the actors were just as stellar as in the musical.

And yeah, Ben Platt is a 27 year old playing a high school senior. One of the big criticisms of the movie. But Platt still has a boyish charm about him which at least makes it within the outskirts of plausibility. Certainly we've been treated to far worse examples on television of people in their later years playing teenagers on screen. 

The movie gives us two brand new songs as well. Which - frankly - weren't particularly necessary. I suppose they exist to further the development of characters which otherwise have little stage/screen time in comparison to the stars of the show. The song performed by Connor, presented as a video file found from someone who had been in rehab with him, at least provides some redemption of the character, who is otherwise presented as someone completely estranged from his family and devoid of all sense of emotional responsibility to his family.

The other song, performed by the girl who is president of the senior class and helps start and run the Connor Project movement after being inspired by Hansen, does give her some vulnerability and commonality with Hansen, as they both apparently suffer from depression and share a moment of spiritual bonding. But, really, it wasn't particularly necessary for development and progress of the story. 

The emotion was definitely there - even, I daresay, more so than in the musical. And that, I think, is the backbone of the musical that fueled its amazing reception on the stage. It's certainly what fueled the experience for me, when I saw it live in San Francisco at the end of 2018. Granted, I was in an emotional place back then and ripe for harvesting in that regard. So, yes, it made me cry then. It did so today too. The biggest song for me was and is So Big/So Small. It's very relatable for me. Granted, in a reversed role. I think I've mentioned before on this blog that I've tended to be the wife/mother figure in previous relationships. But anyways. Moving on.

The end of the movie - which in the musical version is quite short by musical finale standards - feels even more truncated than the stage version. The musical uses a reprise of For Forever. The movie uses a reprise of one of the newly composed songs. Honestly...I didn't care for it that much. Too short and not as meaningful, in my opinion. But to each his own. I maybe I just missed this from my one viewing of the musical, but it seems like more time was supposed to have passed before the final scene. In the movie, it's just the end of summer following high school graduation. But maybe I misread that in 2018. Guess I'll have to go see the musical again.

So again, the movie is great, in my opinion. I wouldn't mind seeing it again. And this post ended up being more of a review than I had originally intended. But I don't feel the need to write Dear Glenn Disney letters to myself, as Evan a did as an assignment from his therapist (that set up the whole plot of the show). I mean sure, I've felt alone, and depressed, and so on. Who hasn't at one time or another? But I've never been in need of being found as much as Evan Hansen was. He even admits that he didn't fall from the tree (causing his signature broken arm), but rather he "let go". Was that in the musical? I might have missed that part too...

So. Anyways. Go see the movie.

Fall! Fall?

So, it's officially Fall now, with the first day of the autumnal equinox being, well, yesterday. Not that you'd know it. Because here in Sacramento, it's hot. Like, 98 degrees. And no, that's not a 1990's-era boy band reference.

So instead of sweltering away in the the valley dust bowl, I went last Friday afternoon to (where else) San Francisco. What a change! As it always is. It was cool. No, cold. I actually put on pants at one point. Um...in place of shorts. I swear I wasn't wandering around in my underwear. Not that that would seem much out of place there. It shouldn't be out of place here, it's so hot. 

But as usual, it was a lovely day by the bay enjoying the fresh coastal air. I hit Ghirardelli Square for my usual Nob Hill Chill, hit the Sports Bar on Columbus Avenue for a $4 happy-hour beer, and generally just tottered around the city trying not to look like a tourist. I shouldn't be, after all the time I've spent there. I'm practically a local. In my mind anyway. I could get used to that weather, anyway.

It was even so cold that on the way back towards my car, after dinner at a sit down pizzeria, I stopped and got a hot chocolate at Starbucks. A large hot chocolate. Quite a step up from my normal medium-sized order. Starbucks, incidentally, has moved into one of the little container shops that have been erected a little ways down from Pier 39. I'm not sure if anyone is aware of it, as there was no one in the store but me.

Unfortunately just a little while later, I spilled almost the entire hot chocolate while trying to get a nice photograph of the antique fishing boats. There's a small window at dusk where the light just pops on your photos, turning things otherwise commonplace in something almost ethereal. And you just have to stop what you're doing and take advantage of it. Even if at great expense. But I blame the wind for my mishap, in all honesty. 

So, the hot chocolate was a loss. I drank maybe a quarter of it before The Accident. A seagull made off with the lid. I have no idea what he intended to do with it. One man's trash is another bird's treasure, apparently. The cup, I salvaged for the nearest trash can.

And the walk of shame back to my car was otherwise uneventful. Actually, I don't think anyone actually saw me spill it. Except for a homeless man camped out on the boardwalk. He muttered something incomprehensible to me. I didn't stop to try and interpret. 

It was dark by the time I started for home - the downside of the fall season is its increasingly shortening days. It's now dark when I get up at 6pm, and dark long before Connor's bedtime at 8:30pm. And hot in-between. But we did get some rain at the beginning of last week. Yes! Actual moisture from the sky! It does in fact exist, and has not fallen into the realm of legend. At least that is a sign, of sorts, that the Fall is nigh. Hopefully, just around the corner. 

If nothing else, I'm so ready for the daytime temperatures to drop below 90. Where are you Fall!

Decompression

Here's a picture of a silhouette of trees. Because, why not? Honestly, I wasn't even going to post a picture on this one. Nothing I've seen lately has seemed worthy of a photograph. No moment worthy of being frozen in time, immortalized in digital format. Everything has been kind of...blah.

Thank goodness iPhones have such poor color matching; the dull blue and faint haze of smoke in the distance turned into a really orange to lavender transition here. So it goes.

Anyways, I went for a walk, as I so often do, mostly to decompress tonight after two full days of school back in session. Not that it was that trying, really, but it's certainly a change from the past year and a half. And it was a nice cool evening, the first in a long time where temperatures dipped below 80 at sunset. Thank goodness again. 

It hasn't been difficult to tell that the world is not quite back to normal. An don't because everyone everywhere on campus is wearing masks, and everywhere you turn there's another hand sanitizer dispenser staring you down. The traffic has been noticeable lighter than it was. Before Covid. Parking has been much easier on campus than it was. Before Covid. Less eateries are open on campus than there were. Before Covid.  Seems like a pattern, doesn't it? This marker will be a benchmark for the state of society for awhile. 

So, yeah, the first two days of school were mild by comparison to what I've been accustomed to as being "the norm" in previous years. We're there, onsite, as we have been for years. But it's not quite the same. And maybe it's just me, but the students seem to have gotten even younger. Or else I'm just getting older. Surely that's the real cause, but I prefer to waver in my sensibilities and cling to a smidge of denial.

The mind is younger than the body.

But just three more days before the first week will be in the books. And three more weeks till the start of fall. And maybe in three months there construction will conclude on my new townhome, and I can be moved in before the holiday season begins. Maybe maybe maybe.

For now, I'm relaxed, at home, in bed, and about to call it a night. And day three will greet us soon enough. 

So It Begins

Well, here we are at a juncture in time that we knew would come. That we knew must come. Sometime. Eventually. We've been waiting for this for over 15 months. It's the eve of the start of the fall semester, and we are finally returning to something resembling normal. Well, more or less.

Tomorrow students will flock to campus to begin their baccalaureate adventures at Sac State. It won't be quite like it was before, as there's still a smattering of classes being held online. And students and staff and faculty will be required to wear masks indoors. And who knows if all the campus features will be open and available. Yet.

Last week was a dry run for us, more or less, as marching band camp returned for the first time since 2019. Students returned! Dozens of people graced my office in search of lockers and keys and so on. Round Table and Jamba Juice and Starbucks were open in the Student Union. Students began moving back into the dorms. Progress!

We'll see how long things last. The world still isn't quite right, and people still spook easily at the slightest hint of a cough. A lot of people think it will shut down again, as soon as people start contracting Covid again. And they probably will, just like they contract the flu and the common cold and on and on. Every year. That's our normal.

But for now, some amount of positivity permeates the clouds of doubt (though those could be clouds of smoke from the fires in the Sierra). We're planning on offering live concerts with live audiences this fall, and tickets have gone on sale. Ensembles will be rehearsing with a more or less normal in-house capacity. And I have returned to full time onsite, for two weeks now already. Boy, is it tough getting back to normal! We all got soft this past year with reduced workloads and working from home. 

But come tomorrow morning, we'll see if things looks and feel like normal. I've been watching a slow but steady stream of emails arrive at my inbox all weekend, students needing lockers and keys and volunteer paperwork and parking permits and on and on. So I expect it will be a busy day tomorrow...just like the start of a semester used to be. Before Covid.

Here goes year 23!

Wannabe Farms

I'm writing tonight,
though not much in prose.

I'm not much a poet,

as everyone knows.

I went to the store

and found a new book.

It seemed rather funny, 

so I took a look.

The book was of animals

who lived on a farm.

They had great aspirations,

but meant no one harm.

The animals, you see,

they had great big dreams.

To live more like humans

would be great, so it seems.

They tried to achieve

but it always went wrong.

They were just regular animals,

it did not take long.

But what they did find

at the end of the day.

Was a great sense of calm;

and they went on their way,

Such is the synopsis of a book I found randomly in a bargain bin at the local supermarket: "Wannabe Farms" by Brian McCann. A nice little hardbound book telling stories of animals with wild dreams of being more like humans. And of course, it went wrong. And yet, they found peace and tranquility at the end of the day and found peace in their own way. Kind of a nice narrative on chasing dreams and finding something good at the end of the road, even if it wasn't what you expected when you started. 

I suppose it would be most correctly characterized as a humor book, yet it also works well as a children's book. I've been reading a chapter each night to Connor.

The thing that sold me on it? A little blurb from a review on the front cover: "...comedy that a seven-year-old and a middle aged man will both find hilarious." Well, that describes us to a tee. Not that age in itself should be the best criteria for appreciating a book. But it is pretty good, actually, and for $5 I really can't complain. 

Tonight's chapter: "The Day the Sheep Wanted to Become Barbers (It's Literally Impossible, By the Way, So It Was a Huge Mess!)" Tomorrow's will be: "The Day the Horses Decided  They Could Make the Farm More Successful (Did You Guess Total Disaster? You're Right!)"

I can't wait for bed time tomorrow!

 

Hot Hot Hot

So, I'm sitting up late on a Tuesday evening, relishing in the fact that I'm not currently melting into the sheets of my bed. It's been hot, ladies and gentlemen. Damn hot. We hit 109 last week! Today was an aberration in the trend, as it *only* got to 88 today. Last week there were several days in a row well over 100, and it appears next week we'll return to that again.

It's a great time of year for ice cream, which of course I procured on my regular mecca to San Francisco last week. Where, in fact, it was only 74 degrees. And breezy to boot. And yes, I know this ice cream cone looks small. My hands are big...that must be it.  It was from that little classic VW bus that hangs out around the Marina District, selling their home-churned flavors. They called this a "double smidge"! There's actually two sizes smaller below this...but it's okay. Being this small, I felt justified in getting a Ben & Jerry's milkshake later on. After a 12 mile walk which included a round-trip trek across the Golden Gate Bridge.

It was almost too cold for ice cream in San Francisco. Can y9u believe it? Almost too cold. It's hard to imagine as we sit here sweltering in the Sacramento heat. 

When did it get so hot in the central valley of California?? I don't remember this as a child. It never seemed that hot. So either I was cheerfully delusional in my youth, or we've become a poster child of sorts for global warming. It seemed easy to demonstrate global warming just by looking at the receding ice and glaciers in places like Alaska, which I've seen firsthand. But this is a little too close to home. And yet no one seems to really catch onto this, how it's just warmer and drier and the winters are shorter and on and on. At least they don't seem to notice. Maybe they're afraid to notice.

And of course, the planet ebbs and flows naturally over the millennia, despite our interference, as it has for millions of years. Ice ages come and go. I remember in school years ago learning about how we're basically at the hind end of the last ice age, in the grand scope of things. Or at least we were. Not sure if we've passed over the threshold where we're no longer waning, but rather waxing into something else. Oh, if only I could be immortal, to exist long enough to see the return of the next ice age. Though such extremes should not be needed just to get a reprieve from the Sacramento summer weather. 

Well, there's always San Francisco. It's just too hot here.

End of the Month Already?

Well I felt I just HAD to do a post today. Not just because it's Memorial Day and the end of a holiday weekend. But really because it's the very last day of May, and I realized I haven't written all month. Where does all the time go?

Well I suppose this will end up being a recap of sorts. We're still deep in the Covid bubble, but things have been improving steadily as of late. We're expecting that by June 15, restrictions will be eased up significantly and we may be able to plan for a normal fall semester. Well, closer to normal anyway. At least, not as ridiculous as the last two semesters have been.

But yes, the semester is over at Sac State. We made it through, somehow, and students still did their recitals and graduated and went through Carmencement - the drive through commencement organized by Sac State. I'm not entirely sure how this summer is going to go, as once again we have no summer camps going on. So the workload, which plummeted in March 2020, continues to sit near the bottom of a chasm. 

Today was hot. Quite hot. TOO hot. It was the first 100 degree day of 2021 I believe, and it sure felt like it. We haven't gotten much rain this season, so I fear this summer will be long and dry and full of wildfires. Great. Just what we needed.

 

But I started off this morning bright and early at 7:00 AM with a 4-mile bike ride to Old Town, followed by a 5 mile walk along the River Walk in West Sac and around downtown Sacramento a little bit. I had never actually done the River Walk on that side of the Tower Bridge, so it was a new experience. And although the day promised to be impossibly hot, the morning was still quite nice, at that early hour anyway. But I was actually looking for a little breakfast. Finally found a Subway that was open, after passing by a couple that were closed. And then I finished off my early morning escapade with a 4-mile bike ride back home. I was actually home by 10:00 AM, and even at that early hour, it was hot. Quite hot. TOO hot.

So, I regret to admit that I've spent the rest of the day cooped up at home with the air conditioner conservatively set at 79 and yet struggling to keep up. I did do laundry, so that was something. And I read a bit. Napped a bit. Ate a bit. Typically holiday repertoire. 

And now, as the sun is dropping low on the horizon and the temperature is plummeting to a less balmy 99 degrees, I suppose I should show some initiative and get outside for so (more or less) fresh air and exercise. I'm still admittedly a little sore from the two days in a row of bowling, first on Connor's little playdate and then with just the two of us (he really really really wanted to go again). It's amazing sometimes how your body protests things it used to do with regular gusto. Lack of consistency mixed with getting older, I guess. I am not going to age gracefully, but rather kicking and screaming. 

Well, unless I'm too sore or tired for all that, in which case I'll probably just take a nap.

But that about wraps up May, now onto June! The month I should be moving into my new townhome, which was delayed from the end of March, and is now postponed to the end of October. But that's another story for another time.

Goodbye May!

Donut of the Week

So this week, my little buddy is Donut of the Week at school. It's a playful little thing his teacher devised to give each kid a little showcase during the school year. On Monday they get to share an "All About Me" poster. (I should say "poster", in quotes, because it's really an online Seesaw assignment where they fill in the blanks. Thanks, Covid, for stifling creativity in our children). On Tuesday they get to bring something to school for Show and Tell. Wednesday they get to pick the music used for their brain break in class. 

But on tomorrow - Thursday - that's where the fun happens. Parents get to write a letter to their child, basically dripping with love and tenderness and compliments, and likely providing the child with hours of fun in-class embarrassment. The sappier the better. 

Now, it's been a few years since I had a homework assignment, not to mention a writing one. But I felt up to the challenge. So I cuddled up on the couch next to my boy this evening as he watched Minecraft music videos on YouTube. And clickety-clack, I typed out a banger of a letter in no time flat. And since I have the benefit of this blog at my disposal, and I can copy and paste and Bam! Instant blog post.

So here's my soon-to-be infamous letter:

Dear Connor – 

 

This is just a note to let you know how proud I am of you. It’s been the highlight of my life to watch you grow up from a tiny infant into the bright young boy you are today. You are always kind and thoughtful and empathetic towards other people as well as to animals. Your seemingly boundless energy has kept me on my toes and demanded that I pretend I’m at least 10 years younger just to keep up. Your capacity for intelligence often surprises me, as you frequently seem to absorb new information effortlessly. And you like to learn. Your limitless curiosity about the world around you and your observations of it have led to all manner of daily Quotes – nearly 300 in the past wo years – that I’ve shared with friends and family on Facebook. Your innocent and often profound insights have brought, laughter, joy, tears, and every emotion in between to the people around you.

 

I know it’s been a struggle this year; everything from dealing with this pandemic to the delays in construction of our new home (which still isn’t finished), to the loss of your favorite cat, Buster. I know it hasn’t been fun having to quarantine ourselves and miss out on play dates and stop participating in the sports you love such as basketball and soccer, and on and on.  But we’ve found new things to play, and new adventures to try such as our outings to go hiking in the woods or to try new card and board games or even to make up your own games. Your imagination never stops! We’ve killed many a zombie together and mined so many diamonds and emeralds and ridden so many paths on our two-wheeled “horses”. And you have persevered through everything and always kept a smile on your face and lifted my spirits in the process. I’m incredibly proud with how well you’ve taken everything in stride, and how you never complain and always see the bright side of life. In short, you inspire me. And I can’t wait to see what the next few years have in store for us.

 

Love, 

Your Dad

Writing Again

Well I see more than a month has gone by since I posted on here. Where does all this time go? Minutes turn to hours, hours to to days, days to weeks. What a droll existence! Meanwhile, Scout is still adjusting to the loss of her brother, Buster. As am I. As is Connor. That was the last thing I wrote about on here. Funny how one little animal becomes so entwined in our lives. This is why I don't support the use of "emotional support animals" to try and avoid the rules of society. As if those pets were somehow more special to their owners than anyone else's. News flash: ALL pets are emotional support animals. That's why we have pets.

Today was a pleasant day though. I didn't get a soul-repairing trip to the bay this week. I need to, and soon. It just wasn't in the cards this week, though I certainly contemplated it.. But I started this morning with a 4-mile walk along the river in Old Town, followed by some laundry and vacuuming at home, followed by some margaritas at Chili's courtesy of my last gift card, received pre-Covid. And then, not to be outdone, I did a 5-mile bike trek on the paved bike trails around Natomas. I ended up at Orchard Park, where this shot was taken. There's...so many nice, paved bike trails around here. All interwoven and spreading across the land. The more I explore, the more I find new ones. This one was new to me, and it had several paths in various directions that I had neither the time nor stamina to explore. Not today anyway. But today was an acceptable substitute for the Bay Area. So it was a good day.

I also stopped by the townhome this evening, just to check on things. No progress seemed to have been made in the last several days. I've been trying to get an update on construction progress for over a month now, to no avail. I just want to know when it will be done, when I can move in. It keeps getting delayed due to this ridiculous pandemic. I'm ready to end this apartment existence and have my own place again; to finally pull my things from storage and create a "home". Sigh. Keep waiting I guess.

And now it's getting cold, and the wind which has been with us all day is intensifying. Supposed to rain tomorrow. After being around 90 degrees the past week. Pick a season California! But I do like the gloomy weather, so it will be a nice change come tomorrow, if not entirely conducive to outdoor activities. And Connor and I just got to use the community pool for the first time last week! And now it will be far too cold to use it. 

And that reminds me, I need to write sometime about dreams of the future and potential places to live, after the townhome and after Connor goes off to college. Places more temperate and delightfully appropriate for the retirement which keeps inching closer. It's good to dream about such things, I think. But I don't want this post to go on so long...so I'll save it for tomorrow. Hey, I'm writing again anyway. Perhaps I can keep it up...

And Life Goes On

So yesterday we had the unpleasant and unfortunate experience of coming home from a leisurely walk to the park to find our beloved cat Buster dead. Gone. We're not quite sure what happened; he had exhibited no signs at all of being in any sort of distress. We had seen him just an hour before. Of course we didn't really look at him before we left. Who leaves their house expecting to find their pet dead upon their return? He had no pre-existing conditions that we were aware of. Of course. he must have had something wrong with him. Something caused him to die. A congenital heart condition that led to a sudden heart attack, perhaps. Who knows?

He was only three and a half years old.

I remember going to pick Buster and Scout up, from this family who lived off of a frontage road in the country just outside of Elk Grove. Their cats had a litter. They were selling. They advertised on Craigslist. This was back in the fall of 2017; they had been born on August 23 and now that they were weaned, they were available! And I had been looking for young kittens. I picked the loner black one who did everything in her meek power to avoid her brothers and sisters. And the one orange tabby who kept chasing her around and antagonizing her. He still did that, even on the morning of his death.

But he was Connor's cat, really. Connor's first pet. Scout was always standoffish with Connor; it was only in the last couple of months that she would even let him get close enough to pet her. Before, she would run away hissing and hide. But now she'll actually come out in the open when he's around.

But Buster and Connor has a special bond. Buster was incredibly patient around Connor, allowing the kid to manhandle him and move him around. Which, let's face it, Connor did a lot of. But Buster loved the attention. He thrived on it. Often demanded it. You could barely sit down anywhere without him leaping up to get in your lap, to be all up in your business.

And like his surrogate father (that being me), Buster loved his routines. Every night at bath time, Buster would station himself right next to the tub. And he'd sit there and wait for Connor to get out. He often got splashed, or petted with wet hands. He rarely came away dry. Sometimes he would get up and walk along the edge of the tub, towards the faucet. We half expected him to slip and fall in. Because let's face it, he was a little overweight and a bit of a klutz. 

He'd also be waiting for me, just outside my shower as I tried in vain to get out without stepping on him. Every. Single. Night. Turns out, he really liked to watch the water go down the drain. Well. Everyone should have a hobby.

And then at bed time, he would always jump up on Connor's bed and lay next to him, waiting for me to read them a bedtime story. Sometimes he would sit up there until Connor fell asleep, and then stand guard over him. And he'd purr, and purr. He was a loud purr-er.

He was a good kitty.

It's a shame Buster will not get to see the shiny new condo I have bought, that is now under construction. I'm sure he felt limited in the small apartment we are currently at. There's only so much room to run around, and so few windows to look out of. The new place would be something like a 60% increase in space. Which is a huge difference to a kitty! I'm guesstimating here a bit, as I didn't do the actual math. But now I kind of want to...okay it's just over 70% increase in space. There. Now I can sleep at night.

I've never lost a pet so suddenly and unexpectedly before. I suppose I can take comfort in the fact that I didn't have to watch his health decline over a long period of time. Didn't have to watch him suffer. Been there, done that. Not fun. But it was too soon, too soon. 

I had to let Connor sleep in my bed last night, because as soon as he crawled up there he started crying. He misses his cat. He said having the cat there helped keep the nightmares away. Maybe so. Cats keep Creepers away in Minecraft, so why not? Your first lost pet is perhaps the toughest, and especially so when you were so close.

And now it's just me and Scout at home. For awhile she wandered around the place, sniffing and looking as if she was looking for him. I'm not totally sure she understands what happened either. I'm not even sure she saw him after he was gone, as there couldn't have been too much time before we found him, and it was their normal morning nap times after all. But she lost a bother, and now we'll just have to comfort each other and keep on keeping on. And life goes on. 

You can the video tribute to Buster HERE

Political Activism

So, I'm not a political activist. Or a social activist. Or any kind of activist, really. In general I try and avoid all societal interactions, to the best of my ability. I'm actually pretty good at it. Everyone's good at something. I stopped watching network TV years ago, stopped paying attention to the news. In short: I stopped caring. I do my own thing, live my own life, focus on me. And my son. Well, and my cats. I'm a good citizen though; I follow (most of) the established rules and laws. I don't litter, I recycle as much as I'm able to. I drive a hybrid. When I'm not walking and sparing the air. I work a full time job. I contribute to society.

Sometimes things get to you though. Like this morning, as I was waking up from a night marred with tossing and turning and funky dreams which I can no longer remember. As I was laying in bed, a feverish internal debate in progress about whether I should get up and start my day, I scrolled through Facebook. It's a good way to see some of what's been going on in the world. You can always count on your Facebook Friends to keep you up to date. Sharing, sharing, sharing,

Anyways, I came across a story from ABC News about the homeless encampment under a Highway 50 overpass, that suddenly became newsworthy by virtue of being in the way of Progress. Namely the work of CalTrans. It seems CalTrans can't work when there's people living on the space they want to work on. Imagine that.

And like the silly fool that I am, I read the comments to the article. This is never a good idea. Though these were fairly tame in the grand scheme of the world, save for the top featured one which said to tell them to move on, because they're Homeless and they can "do that anywhere". Most of the comments seemed to suggest that Governor Newsom and Speaker Pelosi and others of affluence had plenty of space around their grand homesteads. The Homeless would certainly have room there, to live in their backyards. I paraphrase a bit, but I'm sure you can imagine the lingo of the Keyboard Warriors at 6am on a Tuesday. 

In general, people just want the Homeless to go somewhere else. Anywhere else. Let them be someone else's problem, is what people say. And it's not like the old days where being homeless meant you were hunkered down under a storefront awning in your grimy old sleeping bag with a couple of damp blankets and some flattened out cardboard boxes to cover you. No, now they have professional camping tents, many nicer than mine that I actually use once every few years and pay $40 a night for the right to pitch it up in a fine wooded area. And they have possessions. Things. Bicycles and coolers and piles of clothes and pieces of what used to be furniture, and on and on. So many piles of stuff, though it's difficult to tell which are treasured times and which are trash. They look the same to me. They look the same to a lot of people. And it seems like there's so many more Homeless now, like it's ballooned in both the numbers of people and the square footage now covered in garbage and sewage. Possibly due to Covid, to the shut down of society which must have forced some people out of their homes for lack of work. 

In any case, few people seem to have tangible ideas for solving this problem, which is now even more seemingly out of control. Most just like to place blame, to pass it around like a football. Or a hot potato, I suppose. So I wrote a comment to the post. (Bad idea! For the sake of your own sanity, never, ever do this!). This is what it said:

"If we want to fix this problem, our society needs to stop accepting that it’s “OK” for people to setup makeshift camps wherever they want. And we’ve been accepting it by letting it happen. And by simply relocating homeless whenever it gets in the way of “progress”, which is what this story is about. We need comprehensive rehabilitation programs to get people off of the streets and back in to mainstream society. This article mentions briefly at the end a 100 bed shelter being built. It’s a start. And I know there’s a lot of people out there that “prefer“ to live on the streets. This can’t be OK. We have allowed it to be OK for a long time, and this problem has gotten exponentially worse in recent years."

Now, I don't see this as particularly profound of a statement. It's rational, and logical, if not overly simplifying the problem. But it seems to have been received well; in just over 12 hours it's received 106 likes. And I think it's true - we have accepted that being Homeless is an 'okay' thing. By virtue of not really doing anything substantial to combat it. 

And here's a picture of the sun setting over the Sacramento River, because we need more beauty in our life. Of course, there's homeless encampments out there. You can't see them in this photo, but if you walk the levee trails around Old Town you can see them. They're there. 

The homeless situation is sad. It really is. It saddens me every time I drive through downtown and see all the rough and grungy encampments and piles of trash spread out all over. Well anyways, I've said my piece and now I'll crawl back under my rock again. But hey, maybe our leaders will get that shelter done, and maybe up to 100 people will get the assistance they so desperately and obviously need and get off the streets. As I said, it's a start. And maybe some of those people, once they've gotten their fresh start, can go back to the camps from whence they came, which I'm sure will still be there. And maybe they can talk to those who are otherwise mentally fit but insisting that they prefer living on the street. Pride! And maybe these new souls can tell the old ones how nice it is to sleep in an actual warm, dry bed each night; to eat real food that wasn't previously discarded by someone else; to take a crap and not have to spend the night smelling it because they can flush it down an ACTUAL TOILET. That alone would convince me. How could anyone prefer that life? I'd take a handout over pooping in an alleyway any day of the week. Which choice hurts your pride more?

And that, my friends, is the extent of my activism. I'm not a rich or powerful or influential person. I don't have all the answers. I'm just another one of these keyboard warriors, sitting behind their computer going "tsk tsk" about the ways of the world that baffle us so. And life goes on.

Recapping February

Sunsets are always nice, and tonight's was no exception, with a picturesque grove of old Valley Oak trees setting the mood. Photography, really, is just about being in the right place and in particular at the right time. This particular grove is right next to Garden Highway and the Sacramento River. It's always good to go for an impromptu walk; you never know what you'll run into. And Nature inspires, once again.

Well it's been an eventful and busy weekend already, and it's only Saturday. Yesterday I left work early and traveled to San Francisco (where else?) for a lively stroll along the waterfront. This time I actually took off the shoes and socks and went about a mile and a half along the sandy Chrissy Beach. The water was so cold! But refreshing. This was after starting the afternoon with a Nob Hill Chill from Ghirardelli. I hadn't been there for a little while, so it was nice to get back to my roots, so to speak. It used to be my go-to place, when I first started these pilgrimages to the Bay Area. And then into the evening I trekked up into the city to Mac'd for a custom Mac and cheese dinner creation. Chicken, mushrooms, bacon, and corn, oh my. It was an order to-go of course, as restaurants have their indoor dining closed. But they did provide some little plastic tables and chairs under a pop up tent along the street side.

Today was sort of a pickup day in anticipation of the Return of Connor. I capitalize that freely, as it's really something of an event. A life event, really. It's like I lead two different lives, like a superhero disguising his identity from the world by leading a mild mannered "normal" life.. Though my situation isn't nearly as exciting as all that, and I lack any true super powers. But I do lead two lives, or so it seems; one as a single father and one as a semi-reclusive bachelor. 

But anyways, I spent the day today doing laundry, vacuuming the apartment, getting a haircut, going shopping for food and Connor's school (he goes back to live instruction Monday! Only two days a week, but still. It's been almost a year). And then in the early evening I treated myself to a margarita and dinner at Chevy's. I...had a coupon. And that's another thing that I haven't done in awhile - not just Chevy's but actually a sit-down restaurant experience. 

And now as the end of February is upon us, I'm reminded that I was originally supposed to be moving right around now. Back in September when I plunked down a deposit on a new-construction condo, they estimated that it would be finished about the end of February, or beginning of March at least. But once again Covid reared its ugly head and disrupted the flow of building materials and probably labor as well. So...it's been delayed. Till the summer. So this weekend is a little less uneventful than it should have been. 

But hey, I wouldn't have been able to do any of this other stuff, most likely, if I was on the verge of a big move. So, there's the silver lining. Making lemonade! And now it's about time to get to bed and rest up. For the Return...

First Day?

Well here it is, the first day of school at Sacramento State. Or so they tell me. It's kind of hard to tell these days.  I mean, I was there, the campus was there. But no one else was there. Ghost town. If you ever watched the TV show "Last Man on Earth", you'd know what I experienced today. It was very much like that.

So the semester started, and crickets chirped. And squirrels searched in vain for morsels of food to eat. I'm sure the squirrels miss the students most of all. Having people around provided a stable food source, either from careless droppings or purposeful feedings. Usually both. What a buffet of food they've lost! 

I have no idea if anyone had any classes today. I mean I have to imagine that hundred and thousands of students were sitting somewhere, hovered over their computer screens, while professors droned on through Zoom and tried to make the best of it. Many probably experienced problems with internet, problems with technology, and so on. The same problems I see with my son's first grad class everyday. Though I hope the college students don't constantly interrupt class to share random and irrelevant tidbits of their lives with everyone. In any case, I'm sure students attended classes today as best they could.

I sat in my office and drank cocoa. Also I went for a walk.

I mean I did get productive things done. Got caught up with all of the space reservations that had to be changed, or deleted, or created, owing to the ever changing environment of our times. And I cleaned up my emails, and sent some out to start getting ready for the long haul of the semester. And it will be a long haul, I think, with a lot of busy times ahead.

But boy, was it dead today. Spooky. It's been nearly a year now of this. I think we're all ready to get back to normalcy. So much for the first day of classes.

Better Late Than Never

Wow,  I haven't written on this thing since last year. Of course that would have been funnier if I wrote that line on January 1. Maybe January 2. But here we are, three weeks into the New Year. I suppose it would be the appropriate time to reaffirm my resolutions, reflect on the past year. Maybe reflect on the upcoming year. Well, if I was one to do such things for the sake of a holiday. 

It did occur to me the other day that my tastes in nature have come full circle. It was sort of an epiphany. Growing up, I was more of a child of the mountains. I know I wrote about that once before. We never went to the beach. We went camping, in the mountains. Summer after summer after summer. In recent years I migrated to the ocean, making regular pilgrimages to San Francisco to explore the coastlines. And they were great, and they restored me. And I needed that.

In recent months I've diverted my attentions back to the mountains, and the forests. Auburn State Recreation Area, Sugar Pine Mountain, Griffith Quarry, Empire Mine, and on and on. Perhaps it was influenced by all those hours playing Minecraft, exploring mountainsides. But no, there were coastlines there too. But it's been refreshing, smelling the fresh pine-scented air again. Just the smell of it brings back fond memories.

Tomorrow Connor and I will try another place around Colfax or Auburn. Because he wanted to go hiking in a "forest" with me. After our successful trip this past Monday to Griffith Quarry. I'm sure it will be delightfully brisk and clean, after winter finally arrived today to wash a bit of the dryness away, and now threatens to dump some snow across the Sierras next week.

You know what it is? It's the driving distance. It's a lot closer to get to the mountains from here than the coast. And the idea of spending less time in the car and more in nature has been appealing. It's just the economy of it all, I suppose. 

In any case, if nothing else, variety is good. The 'spice' of life and all that. And hey, Happy New Year. Three weeks late. Well, better late than never.