How Did I Get Here?

Wifey and Grace on Monday frosting a birthday cake for  Gracie's dad Scott. 

After spending several minutes looking at this photo an old saying that forever haunts me popped up into my mind once again:  How did I get here?  If you knew my born on the other side of the tracks history you'd understand.

And of course, that's related to this:

Dirty Dancing

When romancing the bone takes hold of my senses, there's no choice but to indulge Wifey in a little foreplay. ...

It begins with a little dirty dancing . .. cheek to cheek. . .. twirling, dipping. . .. all around the patio deck. .. . wonder what the neighbors think?  Who care?  Not me.

This one:

Phantom Ship

Another photo I snapped at Crater Lake.  It's of an island named the Phantom Ship. 

As the story goes,  when a fog settles over the lake the island resembles a ship sailing through the "soup".

I guess you have to be there to believe it.

Space Junk

There's been a lot of hype about this particular piece of NASA equipment falling out of orbit and crashing somewhere on earth.  That happened last night with its splash down somewhere in the Pacific ocean.  You can relax now.

I found one reader comment this morning in a newspaper article on this subject that made me smile:

"Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, if a piece of space junk should whack my ex before I wake, I'll praise the Lord and bake a cake."

Damn.  I just love a good sense of humor albeit off the wall, don't you?

Are You Going?

Wild Blue Yonder

Yeah, it's been a while since I've sat and composed a piece for this place.  There's something about getting away. .. off into the wild blue yonder that breaks the cycle of civilized man.  During the week in the Cascade mountains we were without Internet or e-mail, and cell phone communication.  The RV park did not have cable TV nor was there any television reception via antenna.  Cut off from the world and loving it. . ..

Well, almost cutoff.  Don't ya know that Bob has to have his sports, news and entertainment?  Yup, he does.  The RV has a satellite dish. . .. so much for being isolated.  500 channels of unadulterated media bullshit.  Ahhhhhhhh, loved the vacation in the mountains.  Loved it.

Crater Lake was a bit overcast due to forest fires caused by lightning strikes.  1,900 feet at it deepest level, Crater Lake is number one for depth in America with second place to Lake Tahoe at 1,500.

Wifey wanted to pose for a photo and she did.

Then Wifey wanted me to pose, too.  Put one foot up, she said.  Put a hand on your knee.  She should have said, strike a pose that's unnatural, Bob!  You can see here that I'm so very happy to (a) strike a pose and (b) have a photo taken.  Two of my most unfavorite things.  Grrrrr.

So then Wifey had to get the freaking dogs into the posing act.  Let's put them on a rock, she said.  They'll love it.  I didn't like being posed and the dogs didn't either. 

If you've never visited Crater Lake do it.  Take the boat ride around the lake (we did several years ago).  Worth the trek from the rim to the boat dock (easy going down, not for the fragile coming back up).  Million dollar views.  Priceless. 

And there's a place nearby to buy trinkets and food, too!  Where else can you find a sandwich that goes for 3.99 anywhere in the USA but sells for 9.50 at Crater Lake? 

Don't ya just love capitalism?

September 11th

September 11th.  Here's where the two of us will be.  Crater Lake, Oregon.  1,900 feet in depth.  The deepest fresh water lake in America.  Ninth in the world.

Both of us will sit here for a moment of silence in rememberance of those lost on this day ten years ago, those who were lost in the years after and those who will lose their lives in the days to come.

We'll never forget.

Here Wifey sits during our last visit to Crater Lake in 2006.

We camped at Diamond Lake and we'll camp there again tomorrow. 

It was 108 in Cowtown yesterday. .. a record with an overnight low of 80 (that's a low?!).   Today a little after 2 in the afternoon it's 105 and headed toward another record heat day.  Spending tomorrow night in the Cascade mountains with a predicted low of 40 degrees puts a smile on my face.  From buck nekked sleeping to long john Bobby. . . .wow!

As the song goes, what a difference a day makes. . . .

I Feel The Need. . . the need for SPAM!

SPAM has been around since Christ was a corporal.  Forever and a day. SPAM was served as a side dish at the Last Supper.  I'm kidding?  Nope.  SPAM is mentioned in the Good Book.  Check it out.

As a young lad I was taken hostage by my mother and step-father and held for ransom in Anchorage Alaska.  If you know anything about Alaska or better yet, lived there, you know that food stuffs we take for granted in the lower 48 is in short supply up north.  Back in the day when supply lines were less than sophisticated, this was especially true.  Meat, eggs, fresh vegetables and fruit, and dairy products, if they were available, were and arm and a leg expensive.

Spam, salmon burgers/meatloaf/casserole/etc.,  and powdered milk was what was for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  While many look at salmon as a delicacy, I see it as being one step above what's served for those in solitary confinement . . . about as bad as a diet of bread and water.  Yuck.

 At the supermarket last week it was a surprise to find that SPAM is no longer just SPAM.  It's SPAM Hawaiian, SPAM Garlic, SPAM BBQ. . . and so on.  Hmm, I thought, after all these years out of Alaska, this new shit might be kind of tasty. 

After checking the labels for fat content (regular and unleaded plus saturated), I settled on SPAM Lite which is lower in fat and sodium than your run of the mill can of this stuff...still bad but not nearly as bad as it could be.

What brought this new appetite for SPAM was the planning for a camping trip we'll be taking this next week.  The thought of an open campfire, eggs in the frying pan with a side of SPAM just sounded hella lot good.  This scenario is so unusual and out of character that the wife says she will be snapping a photo to include a can of SPAM held alongside my face. 

If SPAM was eaten at the Last Supper then I might as well have some on what might be my last roundup.  After all, altitude does kill people younger and older than I.  Dining on SPAM at 7,000 feet might be considered risky business.

I've noticed that SPAM is served all over the place.  Popular in Asia, it's served  in more places than not in Hawaii and for probably for the same reasons it was served big time in Alaska:  Supply and demand. .. and its price. Can't be all bad.

I've packed my can of SPAM along with the other food we're taking along.  Burgers one night, chicken the next, steak, meatloaf, and turkey.  No telling how I'll work that can of SPAM into the menu.  SPAM and eggs is sounding mighty good but then so does a SPAM burger. 

You know the old saying:  WHAM, SPAM, THANK YOU MAM!

Leave it to the Americans

A spacecraft circling the moon has snapped the sharpest photos ever of the tracks and trash left behind by Apollo astronauts in their visits from 1969 to 1972.  Yup, trash.  Leave it to the Americans to be the first to liter the moon.

Images taken by NASA's Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter from 13 to 15 miles up show the astronauts' paths when they walked on the moon, as well as ruts left by a moon buggy. Experts could even identify the backpacks astronauts pitched out of their lunar landers before they returned to Earth.

Two years ago, images from the same spacecraft from 30 and 60 miles out showed fuzzier images. But this year the orbiter dipped down to take about 300,000 more close-ups. The trails left by the astronauts are clear, but the places where backpacks were discarded, Apollo 17's moon buggy, and the bottom parts of the three lunar landers are blurry.
After 40 years there does not seem to be much moon dust covering the manmade trails. NASA thinks that it will probably take about 10 million to 100 million years for dust to cover them.

Sidewalk Chatter

So I come home from sailing last week and there on the curb sits this chick chattering into her cell phone.  Strange. There's always people out walking in our neighborhood but never this.

I snap this photo just outside the garage for what reason I frankly do not know.  Well, blog material, now that I think about it.

She sits for a while then lays down flat on her back all the while blah, blah, blah . . . . Talk about uninhibited. 

I really didn't keep track of what she was doing or when she left past taking these photos but I do know that she was on the curb, laying down, etc., for about an hour.

Maybe there's a new law that requires people to not walk and talk at the same time.  Or, maybe this lady can't walk and chew gum at the same time?

Ya think?

Dirt Clod Fights

As a young lad. who spent half of his growing up time in Fresno California, it was a necessity to walk to and from school.  It was a mile and a half there and the same distance back home which gave me and my friends plenty of opportunity to get into mischief.

Our most favorite pasttime were dirt clod  fights with other kids.  The fights usually began as we walked past freshly plowed fields with clogs ripe for the picking. 

Dirt clod fights were cool until someone tossed a clod containing a large rock (some by accident with many on purpose) rang the recipients bell.  This meant all out war and the clods would fly. 

We gather a bunch of clods and continue to toss them well past the plowed fields.  When the clods ran out we tossed dirt.  Dirt.  Gotta get up close and personal when there's nothing left to throw but dirt at your "enemy". 

Sometimes the other side still had ammo . .. lots of clods left which out gunned thrown dirt. When this happened we lost ground and hightailed it home.

Funny what sticks in your mind after so many years have past since those childhood walks to and from school.  What still rings true is the lesson learned about throwing dirt.  When you throw dirt you lose ground. 

Do I need to draw a picture?  You know what I mean.

Think about it.