When we left the Monterey Bay Aquarium we hopped on the trolley that loops through the area to go back to the parking garage. Barb and I were sitting, with others, on a longish bench that ran along the side of the trolley, behind the driver. Across from us was a friendly couple, and the woman - little old lady, actually - struck up a conversation with me about my beard, and how I really looked like I could play the part of Santa. That's a polite way of saying I have a belly that matches the beard. We talked about some of my experiences with the Santa hat, and she reiterated that I would make a good Santa.
Just as we got underway, a sack slipped from Barb's hand to the floor, and, gentleman that I am, I bent way down to retrieve it. But when I did, after being on my feet all day, I got a terrible muscle cramp - in my groin! Not just a tweak, not a twinge; but a screamer! It hurt, dear hearts, and it wasn't easing up. I'm about in tears and the only thought going through my mind was, "Must. Not. Massage. It." I mean I had just had this conversation with this sweet, grandmotherly-type woman about being a good Santa. No way could I sit there and rub my groin!
By now the trolley is moving right along, starting and stopping, going up hill and down, and I find it rather difficult to hold my position on the bench. I found that there was just enough room between the seat back and the bench itself to stick my hand in and hold fast to keep me from sliding, and we proceeded up Cannery Row in this fashion, unable to do anything about the cramp, and holding on for dear life when the trolley started up a steep incline and the woman sitting to my left slid right down the bench and stopped. Sitting squarely on my hand.
I assume she thought my hand was part of the seat back, because she didn't move. At all. And now my new mantra is "Must. Not. Move. My. Hand! Must. Not. Twitch!" Otherwise Santa, who just a moment ago was contemplating inappropriately touching himself, has now graduated to groping a total stranger! Finally the trolley turned down a hill, the lady slid off, and I nonchalantly removed my hand.
I have to hand it to Barb; when I quietly tried to explain why there were tears in my eyes, she showed a good deal of empathy by not laughing herself right off the bench. But it was close. Very close.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Monterey Bay
Barb and I decided we could retire in Monterey, California. What's not to like?
It has the climate - I just checked the temperature (at about 4pm) and it's 61 degrees. By contrast, here in Austin it is 104 degrees. One should bear in mind, however that it can get as low as 42 degrees in the winter,
It has a rich heritage as the seat of the Spanish government in the New World; it was the capital of California from 1777 to 1849, under the flags of Spain and Mexico.
It has character - read Steinbeck's "Cannery Row" and Tortilla Flats." Once a whaling center, it became the home of a flourishing sardine industry - until the fish played out. Robert Louis Stevenson walked these beaches and it is said received inspiration for "Treasure Island."
It has soul - the Monterey Jazz Festival is one of the longest-running music festivals of its kind. It is easier to name who hasn't appeared here than who has.
Adjacent to Cannery Row is the Fisherman's Wharf, lined with seafood restaurants ranging from casual, open-air clam bars, to formal indoor dining with views of the bay. Interspersed are gift shops, jewelry stores, art galleries, candy shops, etc. Whale watching tours and fishing trips leave from the wharf, and sea lions abound.
And it has the Monterey Bay Aquarium - arguably, one of the best aquariums in the world.
The Outer Bay exhibit features one of the world's largest single-paned windows - actually five panes seamlessly bonded - 54 feet long, 17 feet high and 13 inches thick. You can view it from three levels.
At 28 feet, the Kelp Forest is one of the tallest aquarium exhibits in the world. The plants grow an average of four inches a day and require weekly underwater gardening; the surge machine which keeps the water in motion in the tank was built in part by David Packard (of Hewlett-Packard fame) - who also provided the initial endowment for the aquarium.
The aquarium is built at the very end of Cannery Row (on the site of the Hovden Cannery, the last cannery on the Row to close in 1973, after sardine fishing collapsed). Part of the cannery is maintained as an active exhibit in the aquarium.
So, here's the deal on retiring there. If we become docents at the aquarium, we'll have shelter, access to restrooms, etc. When we get tired of docenting, we can just hang out on the wharf with the sea lions. Meals are simple. Every restaurant and clam bar on the wharf offers samples of their clam chowder to entice diners in for a bread bowl of chowder. A simple sample-stroll should be quite filling. The only thing I haven't figured out is a place to sleep. You got to figure that if Pebble Beach Golf course is next door, the rent aint cheap. Maybe a little boat in the harbor. Who would notice? I'll get back to you on that part.
It has the climate - I just checked the temperature (at about 4pm) and it's 61 degrees. By contrast, here in Austin it is 104 degrees. One should bear in mind, however that it can get as low as 42 degrees in the winter,
It has a rich heritage as the seat of the Spanish government in the New World; it was the capital of California from 1777 to 1849, under the flags of Spain and Mexico.
It has character - read Steinbeck's "Cannery Row" and Tortilla Flats." Once a whaling center, it became the home of a flourishing sardine industry - until the fish played out. Robert Louis Stevenson walked these beaches and it is said received inspiration for "Treasure Island."
It has soul - the Monterey Jazz Festival is one of the longest-running music festivals of its kind. It is easier to name who hasn't appeared here than who has.
Adjacent to Cannery Row is the Fisherman's Wharf, lined with seafood restaurants ranging from casual, open-air clam bars, to formal indoor dining with views of the bay. Interspersed are gift shops, jewelry stores, art galleries, candy shops, etc. Whale watching tours and fishing trips leave from the wharf, and sea lions abound.
And it has the Monterey Bay Aquarium - arguably, one of the best aquariums in the world.
At 28 feet, the Kelp Forest is one of the tallest aquarium exhibits in the world. The plants grow an average of four inches a day and require weekly underwater gardening; the surge machine which keeps the water in motion in the tank was built in part by David Packard (of Hewlett-Packard fame) - who also provided the initial endowment for the aquarium.
The aquarium is built at the very end of Cannery Row (on the site of the Hovden Cannery, the last cannery on the Row to close in 1973, after sardine fishing collapsed). Part of the cannery is maintained as an active exhibit in the aquarium.
So, here's the deal on retiring there. If we become docents at the aquarium, we'll have shelter, access to restrooms, etc. When we get tired of docenting, we can just hang out on the wharf with the sea lions. Meals are simple. Every restaurant and clam bar on the wharf offers samples of their clam chowder to entice diners in for a bread bowl of chowder. A simple sample-stroll should be quite filling. The only thing I haven't figured out is a place to sleep. You got to figure that if Pebble Beach Golf course is next door, the rent aint cheap. Maybe a little boat in the harbor. Who would notice? I'll get back to you on that part.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Monday Meanderings - Special Tuesday Edition
That's right folks, we did so much meandering this past week we have to have two installments.
I mentioned that you needed jackets to walk the beach in Santa Cruz. Early morning temperatures were in the low 50's - quite chilly. So on the way to breakfast I was surprised to see a group of young people across the street from our motel stripping out of warm clothing down to their bikinis (or Speedos, in some cases). Then they struggled to squeeze into wet suits so that they could go have a surfing lesson. The instructor had his wet suit partially on already and demonstrated the Michal Phelps look for the class.
Then they all trotted off to surf. Later, upon return, they all stripped out of the wet suits (much harder to get off than on, evidently) and showered off under a garden hose at the surf shop - still in the low 50's. You really have to want to surf under those conditions.
We had a traveling companion on this trip - Emily - the name bestowed on the persistent, if polite, voice of the GPS in Julie's car. Let me just say it up front. Emily has issues. I have maintained this to be the case since Emily urged me to turn left into an empty, muddy field on a previous visit. I should point out that it was dark, and I could not see that it was an empty, muddy field, but Emily should have been able to determine that. Every one pooh-poohs my contention that Emily led me astray on this occasion, telling me that I misunderstood her wishes. When I asked the boys to back me up, Jacob just said, "All I know is that the car sure was muddy when we got home."
But I was vindicated on this trip. Emily gave us the equivalent of a GPS raspberry by taking us on a grand tour of Watsonville, full circle in rush hour traffic when a simple right-hand turn would have been sufficient. Either that, or Emily has been suborned by the Chambers of Commerce of towns that we passed through to guide us only on the scenic and grand tour.
Sea lions are a big attraction at Monterey Bay, though I'm not sure why. They are awfully noisy and can be quite aggressive, if approached. And did you know that if you encounter an injured sea lion, as we did, there is a number to call (289-SEAL) and someone will come with cages and stretcher-type boards to rescue it and take it away for care?
And no, there's nothing wrong with these sea lions - they just naturally bend their necks like that. And lie on top of each other.
They were having a fine auto auction at the Bay. Now by fine, I'm talking expensive. These are not cars that you drive down to the beach and line up and let folks kick the tires. The place was overrun with huge auto transporters - enclosed 18 wheeler vans that haul one or two cars at a time. And the cars were all behind fences and you had to register (and put up a $10,000 bond!!! to become a bidder) plus pay $100 to get a catalog so you could make appointments to see any cars that you were interested in. Since we were flying back, I didn't bid this trip.
And if you are curious about why there is something in the foreground of this picture, you can ask my wife and she will be able to say "I told him that you can't trust that view finder." Again.
Tomorrow: More Monterey Bay!
I mentioned that you needed jackets to walk the beach in Santa Cruz. Early morning temperatures were in the low 50's - quite chilly. So on the way to breakfast I was surprised to see a group of young people across the street from our motel stripping out of warm clothing down to their bikinis (or Speedos, in some cases). Then they struggled to squeeze into wet suits so that they could go have a surfing lesson. The instructor had his wet suit partially on already and demonstrated the Michal Phelps look for the class.
Then they all trotted off to surf. Later, upon return, they all stripped out of the wet suits (much harder to get off than on, evidently) and showered off under a garden hose at the surf shop - still in the low 50's. You really have to want to surf under those conditions.
We had a traveling companion on this trip - Emily - the name bestowed on the persistent, if polite, voice of the GPS in Julie's car. Let me just say it up front. Emily has issues. I have maintained this to be the case since Emily urged me to turn left into an empty, muddy field on a previous visit. I should point out that it was dark, and I could not see that it was an empty, muddy field, but Emily should have been able to determine that. Every one pooh-poohs my contention that Emily led me astray on this occasion, telling me that I misunderstood her wishes. When I asked the boys to back me up, Jacob just said, "All I know is that the car sure was muddy when we got home."
But I was vindicated on this trip. Emily gave us the equivalent of a GPS raspberry by taking us on a grand tour of Watsonville, full circle in rush hour traffic when a simple right-hand turn would have been sufficient. Either that, or Emily has been suborned by the Chambers of Commerce of towns that we passed through to guide us only on the scenic and grand tour.
Sea lions are a big attraction at Monterey Bay, though I'm not sure why. They are awfully noisy and can be quite aggressive, if approached. And did you know that if you encounter an injured sea lion, as we did, there is a number to call (289-SEAL) and someone will come with cages and stretcher-type boards to rescue it and take it away for care?
And no, there's nothing wrong with these sea lions - they just naturally bend their necks like that. And lie on top of each other.
They were having a fine auto auction at the Bay. Now by fine, I'm talking expensive. These are not cars that you drive down to the beach and line up and let folks kick the tires. The place was overrun with huge auto transporters - enclosed 18 wheeler vans that haul one or two cars at a time. And the cars were all behind fences and you had to register (and put up a $10,000 bond!!! to become a bidder) plus pay $100 to get a catalog so you could make appointments to see any cars that you were interested in. Since we were flying back, I didn't bid this trip.
And if you are curious about why there is something in the foreground of this picture, you can ask my wife and she will be able to say "I told him that you can't trust that view finder." Again.
Tomorrow: More Monterey Bay!
Monday, August 16, 2010
Monday Meanderings - Aug 16
Is there a more desperate look than that on the face of the airline passenger who comes running - literally - up to the gate 2 minutes after they have closed the flight?
And I'm not saying that these regional jets are small, but when the pilot flips bags of peanuts over his shoulder to the passengers I think we've reached a new level.
And I never cease to marvel at the 18 year-old "Elders" I encounter in the Salt Lake City airport.
Is there a more desolate stretch of real-estate on this earth than the desert between Salt Lake City and the Sierra Nevada mountains of California, stretching across Utah and Nevada? Arid, vegetation-less, barren, desolate; these are the words that come to mind. Yet, despite this, there was a fine spider web of roads crossing and criss-crossing the region. Some were paved and went ruler-straight as far as the eye could see. Most were just dirt tracks, following the valleys. Rarely, you saw houses or clusters of houses alongside these paths. I wonder who lives there, and for what reason?
Yes, we meandered out to sunny California this past week to be with Julie, Jason and the boys. They are in the count-down to back-to-school, but we stole a few days to sight-see and to enjoy being with them; especially during the cool mornings (and evenings) on the patio. Must get one of those.
We took a couple of days and went to the coast. First Santa Cruz, home of a historic and world famous board walk. However, there are no boards on the board walk - just concrete.
The beach at Santa Cruz is quite different then Texas beaches. First, the water is too cold to swim in without a wet suit this far north. Needed jackets just to walk on the beach. And the sand is different; loose and deep, difficult to walk on without sinking down.
Then we dropped down the coast to historic Monterey Bay, home of the Fisherman's Wharf, Cannery Row and the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Much more about that in blogs to come.
I was fascinated by the cross-section of California that made up our trip. If you look on Google earth Fresno will be in a huge swath of green, bordered by the Sierra Nevada Mountains to the east and the Coast Ranges to the west. The green part is the San Joaquin Valley, where an amazing percentage of the nations food crops are grown. The crops one sees in the Fresno area seem to be tree or vine related; grapes, raisins, almonds, pistachios, olives, figs, etc. Once you reach the Coast Ranges there are no crops of any kind; just dry grasslands and a few scrubby trees. You certainly get an understanding of the fire threat that these arid hills pose.
Then on the western side of the Coast Ranges cultivation resumes, but the crops that you notice over here seem to be mostly field crops - strawberries, garlic, artichokes, peppers, lettuce and tomatoes. We drove through Gilroy, the garlic capitol of the world - and it certainly smelled it. We missed the big Garlic Festival, more than 100,000 visitors sampling tasty delights like garlic ice cream and garlic french fries, but we smelled the cash crop; Gilroy Foods - in the middle of the town - processes more garlic than any other factory in the world!
We saw field after field of farm workers either harvesting or planting vegetables. Acres of strawberries being picked by hand. Back-breaking work. And the shadow of Cesar Chavaz was there; at every site were port-a-potties, chairs and shaded areas.
Closer to the coast the fields were full of artichoke plants, and since artichokes are an integral part of our clan we stopped at a stand to buy some. We knew we were buying local, if you live in Marina, California. Here's a photo from the parking lot:
See that guy right in the middle? That artichoke was on our dinner table the next evening. Well, okay, maybe it was 6 of his close relatives, but you get the point. And there certainly is an advantage of buying local - we bought 2 artichokes Saturday in Central Market for the same cost as the 6 in Marina.
And I'm not saying that these regional jets are small, but when the pilot flips bags of peanuts over his shoulder to the passengers I think we've reached a new level.
And I never cease to marvel at the 18 year-old "Elders" I encounter in the Salt Lake City airport.
Is there a more desolate stretch of real-estate on this earth than the desert between Salt Lake City and the Sierra Nevada mountains of California, stretching across Utah and Nevada? Arid, vegetation-less, barren, desolate; these are the words that come to mind. Yet, despite this, there was a fine spider web of roads crossing and criss-crossing the region. Some were paved and went ruler-straight as far as the eye could see. Most were just dirt tracks, following the valleys. Rarely, you saw houses or clusters of houses alongside these paths. I wonder who lives there, and for what reason?
Yes, we meandered out to sunny California this past week to be with Julie, Jason and the boys. They are in the count-down to back-to-school, but we stole a few days to sight-see and to enjoy being with them; especially during the cool mornings (and evenings) on the patio. Must get one of those.
We took a couple of days and went to the coast. First Santa Cruz, home of a historic and world famous board walk. However, there are no boards on the board walk - just concrete.
The beach at Santa Cruz is quite different then Texas beaches. First, the water is too cold to swim in without a wet suit this far north. Needed jackets just to walk on the beach. And the sand is different; loose and deep, difficult to walk on without sinking down.
Then we dropped down the coast to historic Monterey Bay, home of the Fisherman's Wharf, Cannery Row and the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Much more about that in blogs to come.
I was fascinated by the cross-section of California that made up our trip. If you look on Google earth Fresno will be in a huge swath of green, bordered by the Sierra Nevada Mountains to the east and the Coast Ranges to the west. The green part is the San Joaquin Valley, where an amazing percentage of the nations food crops are grown. The crops one sees in the Fresno area seem to be tree or vine related; grapes, raisins, almonds, pistachios, olives, figs, etc. Once you reach the Coast Ranges there are no crops of any kind; just dry grasslands and a few scrubby trees. You certainly get an understanding of the fire threat that these arid hills pose.
Then on the western side of the Coast Ranges cultivation resumes, but the crops that you notice over here seem to be mostly field crops - strawberries, garlic, artichokes, peppers, lettuce and tomatoes. We drove through Gilroy, the garlic capitol of the world - and it certainly smelled it. We missed the big Garlic Festival, more than 100,000 visitors sampling tasty delights like garlic ice cream and garlic french fries, but we smelled the cash crop; Gilroy Foods - in the middle of the town - processes more garlic than any other factory in the world!
We saw field after field of farm workers either harvesting or planting vegetables. Acres of strawberries being picked by hand. Back-breaking work. And the shadow of Cesar Chavaz was there; at every site were port-a-potties, chairs and shaded areas.
Closer to the coast the fields were full of artichoke plants, and since artichokes are an integral part of our clan we stopped at a stand to buy some. We knew we were buying local, if you live in Marina, California. Here's a photo from the parking lot:
See that guy right in the middle? That artichoke was on our dinner table the next evening. Well, okay, maybe it was 6 of his close relatives, but you get the point. And there certainly is an advantage of buying local - we bought 2 artichokes Saturday in Central Market for the same cost as the 6 in Marina.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Nostalgia Tripping
My sister Pat was in town a couple of weeks ago and spent the night with us. She had come to Austin to a reunion of sorts - she and two roommates from college got together for some food, fellowship and reminiscing. That in itself is a rather amazing story - that she had kept up with her roommates all this time; more than 60 years. I vaguely remember that I had a roommate in college. We didn't see each other that much, so we got along pretty good and stayed roommates until I got married. Okay, I'm lying exaggerating about not remembering him, but I confess that I have not kept up with him.
But the point of this story is my sister spending the night here. It seems only fair, because when I was much younger - a mere child - I spent the night at her house many times. My earliest recollection of those occasions is when she lived in the little community of Eliasville, near Breckenridge (at one time in Texas and Pacific Coal and Oil company housing nearby). This little community - which still claims a few residents - was home to her husband Arthur and his family, and I visited often. Later they lived in Fort Worth and the house I remember the most was close to the TCU campus, and just a short distance from our Aunt, Ina.
I have little recollection of why I would stay with her in Fort Worth - my parents were not into going places without me - but the memory is clear. Sometimes, it would be just the two of us and the kids; Arthur's work often kept him on the road. And it seems that I would often stay there during holidays, especially New Years. I remember staying up and watching the ball drop in Times Square on a little black and white TV (long before we had TV at our house. She also had the 1st 45 RPM record player I ever saw).
And I was there at least once during Christmas. We watched some Christmas specials on TV and I remember clearly watching Harry Belafonte singing "Scarlet Ribbons."
And I thought about that when my sister spent the night at my house.
But the point of this story is my sister spending the night here. It seems only fair, because when I was much younger - a mere child - I spent the night at her house many times. My earliest recollection of those occasions is when she lived in the little community of Eliasville, near Breckenridge (at one time in Texas and Pacific Coal and Oil company housing nearby). This little community - which still claims a few residents - was home to her husband Arthur and his family, and I visited often. Later they lived in Fort Worth and the house I remember the most was close to the TCU campus, and just a short distance from our Aunt, Ina.
I have little recollection of why I would stay with her in Fort Worth - my parents were not into going places without me - but the memory is clear. Sometimes, it would be just the two of us and the kids; Arthur's work often kept him on the road. And it seems that I would often stay there during holidays, especially New Years. I remember staying up and watching the ball drop in Times Square on a little black and white TV (long before we had TV at our house. She also had the 1st 45 RPM record player I ever saw).
And I was there at least once during Christmas. We watched some Christmas specials on TV and I remember clearly watching Harry Belafonte singing "Scarlet Ribbons."
I peeked in to say goodnight
When I heard my child in prayer
Send dear God, some scarlet ribbons,
Scarlet ribbons for my hair.
All the stores were closed and shuttered
All the streets were dark and bare
In our town no scarlet ribbons
Not one ribbon for her hair.
Through the night my heart was aching
Just before the dawn was breaking
I peeked in and on her bed
In gay profusion laying there
I saw ribbons, scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for her hair.
If I live to be a hundred
I will never know from where
Came those lovely scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for her hair...
And I thought about that when my sister spent the night at my house.
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