Seriously Annoyed

I'm grumpy.

Politicians (on both sides) seem to think that it's OK to screw with the budget to get their way. That we can somehow solve all the ills in this country by balancing the budget with radical spending cuts. That everything will work just fine if we cut spending haphazardly. Cut Taxes. Cut everything. And lastly, that somehow, because I'm a federal employee, I'm not as important as the next guy in the private sector. That this budget fiasco is the fault of myself and my federal colleagues. That I'm a lazy, no good, dishonest, layabout.

 So to you politicians out there. Guess what?!? I pay taxes, I work hard and I'm honest. Every day I give my best to make sure that the American citizens get their money's worth. You know why? Because I'm an American citizen too. Just like you, I don't want to see my money wasted. I've heard "I pay your salary." Guess what. I pay my salary, too. And I'll be damned if Im not going to do everything in my power to try to get my money's worth. Really, Ladies and Gentlemen, you should try doing it sometime.

Then maybe we wouldn't be in the mess we're in right now.

Yeah, I'm pissed.

P.S.  I vote, too.


It's only Political Theater... until it's your job and livelihood they're talking about furloughing.

Eighteen Years...

 Eighteen years is a long time.  It's the time that most children grow from infants to independent adults.  Eighteen years is one Saros, that's the time it takes for the earth, moon and sun to return to their same relative positions in their orbital dance.   And it's the number of years I worked for my boss.

Asbury "Abby" Sallenger - 1997    USGS Photo

  Abby was the kind of guy you wanted to work for.  When I started at the USGS, he was the office chief.  At my first interview he talked to me in a t-shirt, shorts and Tevas, because he'd been in the field that morning.   I learned after that he always wore a slacks and tie, just not on that day.  As he transitioned from chief back to researcher, he picked up hurricane research.  And that was how I came to work for him.  He told me once this would be a project that you could spend your whole career working on.  I gladly would, too, and I told him so.  And so far, I have.

  And that tie?  I saw it maybe once or twice a year after that.

  Abby was a piece de resistance.  He had clout in the office and in the Survey.  What Abby wanted, Abby got.  But he never abused that privilege.  He was one of the most respected scientists in the community of coastal research, as well as climate change.  And yet he never lost sight of what was real.  He always had time for you.  Well, except those few times when there was a storm bearing down on the coast and, well, we were all too busy to think about anything but what was going to happen in the next few days.  If you needed a new computer, you got it.  When it came to safety, he never skimped.  If there was anything that we needed, we got it.  No questions asked.  Period.

  When I was diagnosed with breast cancer he bent over backwards to accomodate me.  Got me what I needed to keep going and come through the other side.   He never flinched or wavered, and let me work at my own pace.  His mom was a survivor.  He understood.

  And when my cat was dying, he let me work at home to be with her, because he was that kind of guy.

  In the last few years, he'd had some health issues.   He never shared what was going on.  But the man who once played offensive tackle in college had grown noticeably thin.  I worried about him, but never asked.  It was not my place to do so.  He would have shared if he wanted to.

  Of the group here at work, I think I'm the one who worked for him the longest, though in no way can I say I've known him the longest.  But people have been stopping by all day, offering their condolences, as if I were the one who had lost a family member.  I don't know, maybe I have.  I'd like to say he was a friend as well as my boss.  I could joke with him about work or people, and whenever he needed to buy something or pay for a conference registration, he'd come to me.  "Mom..." he'd say.   He didn't have purchase authority on his credit card.  He didn't want it.  He was the kind of guy you'd stay late for, if he needed something.  I have no illusion about what he did for me, and for my career.  I can't fathom that loss right now.  Perhaps I never will.  Perhaps in those 18 years he had seen me grow, from a green young fed to a task lead, ready to fly on my own.  Literally and figuratively.   I hope I don't let him down.

  As we scramble in our daze to notify people of his passing, it somehow doesn't seem like enough.  His office seems hollow, devoid of spark, and life.  I imagine it will remain that way for sometime.  It seems like one such as he should get more note than an article in Times.  Words seem as inadequate as a plaque on the wall right now.  The pictures I took of him never seemed to quite capture the man.  I tried a number of times over the years to get one that captured Abby at work or in the field, at his passion, to show his soul.  I'm not a portrait photographer.  I never quite caught it.  I never will.

  He always offered to buy people a beer after we were done working, then tell us to go out an get some, feigning not to have the money to pay for them.  It was a standing joke.  One we always laughed at.  He looked out for the people under him in a way that I've never seen anywhere else.   You knew he cared about you.  I don't know if I'll ever see his like again.  People like him are hard to find.  He will be sorely missed.

  So, Abby, I'll get those figures done for you right away. And next time I see you I tell you what.  I'll buy you a beer....

  Rest in peace, my friend, rest in peace.

Four Years Ago

Four years ago I took the day off work to watch history unfold.  The man taking the oath of office was something our lauded founding fathers likely never imagined when they wrote and endorsed the words "all men are created equal".  There with one hand raised and the other on a bible, stood a man who was proof of that concept.   All men are created equal.

I didn't have to take the day off today.   Today, when that same man once again stood on the steps of the capital with his right hand raised to take the oath for a second term, I already had the day off.  Today was the official celebration of another man who place in history is equally as great.  Martin Luther King, jr.

King may have dreamed of that day four years ago.   I wonder if he thought that he would ever see that day.   He didn't.  But his son did.  And so did I.

I don't know if I'll live to see another black man elected to our highest office.  Or a Latino.  Or if I will live long enough to see a woman elected to the highest office in this land.

Dare I hope that we, as a nation, can evolve that far?

So I will sit on this day and ponder the possibilities as I sat on that day four years ago and hope that we can move on from our petty differences and see the dreams and hopes and potential we all share realized.

For all men and women.

For life.

For freedom.

For peace.

Yes, we can.

Lost Snake

Looked up from the computer the other day to see a squirrel hopping around on the driveway... over a snake.  Made me think the squirrel had a death wish.  At first and from far away glance, I thought it was a rattler.  We've seen them here before.

  I went to grab the camera as Edward headed out.  That's me, camera first, safety second.  Or at least that was the case with the alligator.  As I got there Edward said it's not a ratter.  Yeah, I said, looks like a python.

  A Ball Python, to be exact.  The poor thing was looking for a spot of warm sun on the cold driveway.  It was a chilly day, high maybe 60F.  Cold weather for a snake. I'm not exactly sure what the squirrel thought it would accomplish, but it moved off after we got out there.

  Now what?

  We wanted to catch the snake.  It's a non-native species, and non-native species are wreaking havoc in the Everglades.  This guy also looked like someone’s pet.  I got my garden gloves and we got a box.  By the time I got back out there the snake was off the driveway and at the base of the oak tree.  I distracted it with one hand and picked it up with the other.  Not much fight in the guy, he was in a torpor from the weather.

  Again, now what?

  I walked next door to ask if they had a snake.  Yes.  Did it get loose?  No.  Would you like another one?  No... well.  At that point the oldest daughter said, "I want to see it..."

  So they came over and took a look.  He was a beautiful snake.  Shades of light and dark brown with a light colored belly, maybe 18 inches long.  Full grown for a Ball Python.  My neighbor noticed some of his side scales were roughed up.  Maybe the squirrel had scored a hit, counted coup.  We'll keep him, she said.  We have a spare cage.

  So they took the snake in and will give him a home.  Maybe put up a sign: "Lost snake."  I got to hold him one more time, this time without the gloves.  He cured up into, well, a ball in my hand.  Thus, the name.  I love snakes.  Their skin feels so cool, literally and figuratively.

  There's always a good feeling when you can save a creature, and it's even better when you know that the creature was most assuredly lost.  Hope he does OK in his new home.  It's certainly a better life then on some cold concrete on a chilly Florida afternoon.

Cowboys, Indians and Rubber Bands...

Sometimes the best games are the ones you didn't intend to play.  Ones with house rules; made up as you go along.

That was the case the other day when we got out the toy soldiers I got Edward for Christmas last year.  He had a set of game rules called War Pigs.  It's a simple table top game that uses toy soldiers as pieces.  The rules, as far as I read through them, looked pretty simple.  But we never quite got that far.

Edward started telling me about the games he'd set up on the floor in his room growing up, ones where he made up the rules as he went along.  There were two sides, with the furniture in the room acting as terrain.  The weapon of choice: a rubber band.  The winner was the last man standing.

Next thing we knew, we're off creating our own game.  

We each set up on one side of the table.  The trick was to knock over the other's soldiers with the rubber band, which was fired from a from an oversized tongue depressor with a notch cut in one end.  You couldn't fire from in front the chair, you had to be outside the edge of the table, winging the soldier didn't count he had to fall over, you could fire high or low, which ever worked.  We used candles, coasters and a rock for obstacles.  No figure could be completely hidden from your opponent.  

The first game we placed our guys on the table and merrily fired away.  The next two games we started further back and after 5 shots, you could move any piece the length of your firing stick.  The more figures left on the table, the easier it was to hit one, or two, with a single shot if you got lucky.  Half the time you hit the figure behind the one you were aiming at.  Sometimes you hit your own.  It all counted, if they were knocked over they were out of the game.  

We played for about 90 minutes.  We knelt, stooped, crouched and sat to get our shots.  Rubber bands ricocheted off the table, the candles and ourselves.  Nyala tried to help, but Mara wasn't all that interested.  

In the end we had a great time.  We packed up the toy soldiers and stuck the firing sticks in the bag, along with the rubber bands.  Next time we might play a variant of capture the flag, or seize the hilltop with soldiers flying everywhere. Who knows, maybe Custer will try his last stand again, only this time with slightly unconventional weapons.

Bright Side

Shiprock, NM

Normally when your flight gets delayed by five hours there isn't much you can do about it.  Our flight was delayed by a mechanical problem.  That meant we would miss our connection and would to end up spending the night either in San Jose, where our flight originated from, or Dallas / Fort Worth.  We were on business travel and while the thought of staying and exploring the mountains for an extra day was appealing, getting home 15 hours behind schedule was better then 22 hours behind schedule.  We opted to jump halfway and spend the night in Dallas, since it was halfway home.    

Life is an adventure, right?   Try to look on the bright side?  Sure why not.  You have to try.

The airline flew in another plane, so we were not taking the plane with the mechanical problem.  Worry number one taken care of.  Second, we scored exit row seats on both new flights.  Leg room is always a good thing on a full flight, which on the second leg was sure to be the case.  Third, only 35 of the original 135 passengers stuck with the flight to Dallas.  We averaged less than one person per row on the flight.

Flying from San Jose to Dallas / Fort Worth means we flew over some of the best geology the country has to offer, the southern part of the Rocky Mountains, including Four Corners.  Flying over the Rockys on a delayed flight meant that the setting sun highlighted the topography in a spectacular fashion. And I had a window seat.

Most of you know I'm a geologist.  Rocks are my "thing".  The few times I've flown west I've sat with my face plastered to the window watching the landscape pass by. This flight was no different.  Only this time, there were a lot of windows with no one sitting next to them.  

I felt like a kid in a candy shop.  For about 30 minutes I bounced from one side of the plane to the other, empty row to empty row, a few rows forward, a few back.  First snow capped peaks on the right side.  Incised rivers valleys on the left.  Half Dome in Yosemite.  Ooo!  Is that El Capitan?  The Grand Canyon in the distance?  The pilot kindly called out Shiprock, with a wonderfully long shadow and a tripod of resistant minette "legs" radiating out from the central volcanic pipe. A site to die for... if you are a geologist at 32,000 feet.

After a while the sun had set at ground level.  The ground lay in a muted shadow, with the details having faded from sight, while we watched a fiery sun slip below the horizon with too much haze, even at that height, for a green flash.  

The sky to the west slipped from orange to red to indigo, colors you only see in the clear sky from a plane, before fading to black.  In the distance, off to the east, there were thunderheads putting on a light show that my little Canon camera just didn't have the power to capture.  Above us, Sagittarius sparkled brightly in a clearly visible Milky Way.   

So I sat, sipping a Chardonnay, because the airline wasn't charging for snacks or drinks on the flight, and enjoyed the view.  As we drew closer to Dallas, the lights of Austin shone in the distance to one side, while more thunderstorms flashed off the other.  It hadn't been a bad flight, even for being delayed for five hours.  What else could I do but sit with my face plastered against the window, look for, and find, the bright side in the dark sky beyond.

Inside the Screen

Edward and I were just finishing up a board game this afternoon when I looked out the sliding glass door onto the porch.  Earlier in the game, I had looked out to see one of our squirrels climbing along the outside of the screen.  They do that every once and a while.  We usually chase them off with a spray bottle and they run to the nearest tree, then turn around and scold us.  

  The squirrel was still out there on the screen, but something was different.  "There a squirrel on the screen again", I started to say, then it dawned on me.  "He's on the inside!"  Edward turned and looked.  "Yeah, he is."  Luckily for the squirrel, the girls were inside enjoying a sleepy afternoon.  Edward and I went out and I propped the porch door open with a mat.  Then we proceeded to herd the squirrel toward the open door.  

  Needless to say, that was not a happy squirrel.  He had already knocked into some of the glass I have out there.  He scrambled along the top of the screen scolding as if we were a cat he needed to warn his friends about.  I chased him down the screen and toward the open door.  Great.  Until he decided that being as far away from the floor was the best thing and started to cross the screen over the door and move towards the house.  Edward moved to cut him off and then with one last squeal, scrambled down the door frame, jumped to the floor and dashed out the door.  He didn't look back until he was safely up the nearest pine tree.  

  A few years back we had noticed a large hole in one panel of our porch screen.  The screening is old and brittle we figure the lawn service had put a stick through it.   It measured about 3 x 4 inches.  We had patched the hole as best we could, we thought, mostly to keep lizards and mosquitoes out, and to keep overly curious cats in.  That patch had worked fine until today.

  After the squirrel was out, we looked at the patch.  It had been pushed in, and the hole torn even larger.  So this time I got out an upholstery needle, some black carpet thread and sat dow to repair the screen as best I could.  It took 20-30 minutes to cross stitch the hole and secondary tear closed then glue more screening over the seams to complete the patch, the whole time serenaded by the squirrel, who still felt it necessary to warn others of our presence.

  So once again I think we're covered for lizards, bugs and curious cats.  My only concern is that squirrel. They're smart little buggers. If he decides he wants onto the porch again, he might re-test the patch. That would not be a good thing.  Because if he gets in while the cats are out, that screen will not support one of them climbing up it after a squirrel, nor do I want to try to separate said squirrel from an excited cat if one of them were lucky enough to catch him, never mind the general destruction out there during the chase.