tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84748775952274496182024-02-06T20:36:40.793-07:00Been Bogged BeforePhotos, Travel, Stories...
Get out the shovel and start diggin'Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.comBlogger63125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-43428650994509067252020-06-21T17:03:00.004-06:002021-04-06T12:15:29.648-06:00Father’s Day<div class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6px; text-indent: 36px;">
<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">Damned driver, he wouldn’t stop for the foreign devil.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was standing in the road, waving my ticket and pointing at his rattling bus.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Couldn’t he see I needed a ride?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He made no attempt to pull over, didn’t even slowdown.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He looked right at me and passed me by as if he didn’t care about me at all.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Son of a bitch,” I cursed the driver out loud unaware of how much we had in common.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">It was mid June 1984, around Father’s Day.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>For the second time I was spending my summer vacation in Taiwan, taking a break from college.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had no job, classes, or any demands on me at all.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My time was spent searching out unusual places, experiences, food, and trinkets. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My quest this day was for something I had failed to track down the previous summer, a T-shirt with Chinese characters.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>These were rare in Taiwan at the time.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Stylish T-shirts all had writing in English.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Many of these were worth buying.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There were some crazy things written on them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Sayings that didn’t make sense, misspelled words, and popular logos changed in someway to avoid trademark infringement.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One shirt I bought boasts “monday hite phpptball shirt.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had found a place that sold good quality made-to-order silk-screened T-shirts.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had ordered one with the characters “Taiwan Da Hswei” which is the National Taiwan University.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The man said it would be ready in four to five days.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It had been at least a week and I was on my way across Taipei to pick it up.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">Gravity felt stronger that afternoon.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I ran my fingers through my sweaty wet hair, pressing hard on my scalp and the back of my neck in an attempt to ease the pain.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The relentless noise and exhaust had beaten me again.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I enjoyed Taiwan, but it had worn me down.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My legs and feet constantly cramped as I hiked around town or stood on the buses, or stood waiting for buses.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Nothing ever went as I planned and that’s what irritated me most.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I wasn’t making any major life changing type plans, just simple ones, like how to get across town to pick up a T-shirt.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When I wanted a specific thing to eat, I couldn’t find it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When I planned a long walk, it rained.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When I needed to catch a bus, the rotten drivers wouldn’t stop.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It seemed as if everything was out to get me, to make me miserable. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">Eventually another bus did stop so I could get on with my plans.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The bus took me to Taiwan National University.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I got off the bus across the street from the university in a market called Gung Gwang where high school and college kids gathered every evening.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The store I was headed to was on the other side of the market and down a major street about a quarter mile.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The market crowds never bothered me unless I was in a hurry.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was in a hurry.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I knew where I was going, but no one else in the market had a clue where they were going.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The sidewalks were cluttered with people wandering from side to side, browsing racks of shoes or inspecting the dresses hanging overhead, then glancing down at displays of purses and counterfeit cassette tapes on the ground.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Competing boom boxes blasted Chinese pop music from every store so that the complete “Top 40” could be heard at once.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Kids surrounded the barbecue carts, staring at meat racks trying to choose between chicken feet, hearts, tongues, or butts making it almost impossible for anyone to pass through.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>On the edge of the sidewalk, motorcycles were parked side-by-side, so close that I could not even slip through to the street to bypass the most popular spots.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I just pushed and squeezed through the crowd as I had gotten so used to, and tired of, doing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As I was just about to the other end of the market, I suddenly found myself in a clearing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There was a void in the crowd.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I froze.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Something wasn’t right.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I looked over my shoulder towards the building wall, and was shocked.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It was not the first time I had seen this kind of thing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had seen it before, but not like this.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There was a hat lying up side down on the sidewalk.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Students on both sides of this clearing were pulling change from their pockets, rushing out into the clearing, dropping the change into the hat, and then slipping away into the crowd on the other side.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Behind the hat was what looked like a pile of body parts, it was twisted pile of arms, and legs.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I’m not sure how many.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They were attached to a small lumpy torso.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I’m not sure if they were attached in the normal places, there were no normal places.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The limbs were obviously not of much use to the rest of the body, no muscles to speak of, just skin, loosely wrapped around bones.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One limb that was serving some purpose at the time was a leg, which was positioned with the knee on the ground and the lower leg bent back up toward this persons’ head so that their chin rested on the sole of the foot.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There seemed to be a delicate balance holding this person up and together.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I notice no movement, not even a blink of the eyes that I will never forget.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>These eyes gazed straight ahead and as if they burned through everything in their line of sight.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They stared right through me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Their focus fixed on a place neither I, nor anyone else in the crowd could possibly see.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Although these eyes seemed to vaporize everything, there was no fire inside.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They were empty, no hopes or dreams, no anything.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>These eyes and this soul seemed completely empty. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Immediately I reached in my pockets like the other students, but I had no change.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I pulled out my wallet and fumbled through it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The smallest bill I could find was a 100 Taiwan dollar bill.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was equivalent to two and a half US dollars.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I saw a school supply shop just ahead and thought I’d run buy something cheap then return with some change to drop in the hat.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I put the money back into my wallet and darted off through the crowd on the other side of the clearing.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>At the shop I looked at pens and pads of paper for a minute or two but there was nothing I really wanted.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I then realized that I could pass by this way after I bought my T-shirt.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Surely I would have some change to drop into the hat when I returned.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>So I continued on to the T-shirt shop, but I could not stop thinking of this person and the empty eyes.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Stepping out of the T-shirt store, I realized this errand had taken much longer than I had planned.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I wanted to return to give this person some change.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>However, I felt defeated and wanted to go home.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I could catch the bus just down the street it would be much faster than backtracking through the market.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>For a few minutes I stood in front of the shop not knowing which way to go.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I began to reason that my change wasn’t going to make a difference.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Anyway almost everyone passing by was dropping change in the hat, and besides, all the money in the world couldn’t buy this person any hopes or dreams.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As I wandered off to the nearest bus stop, I wished there was something meaningful I could do for this person.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I wished I could switch bodies with this person for a day so he or she could feel what it is like to have body that worked.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I stood at the bus stop and imagined how much this person would love to stand and wait at the bus stop.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>How much this person would love to feel pain in his or her legs and feet from walking all over town.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>What would this person give to wave a bus ticket overhead, even if the busses never stopped. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>As I stepped onto the bus I began to feel ashamed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was so fortunate.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Spending my summers half way around the world, free and able to explore as I wished.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I wasn’t rich but I had a few hundred dollars in my pocket, much more than any of the students in the market.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had so much to be thankful for, but all I did was complain about all the little, meaningless things that didn’t go my way.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was miserable </span><span class="s2" style="font-kerning: none; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">⎯</span><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"> because the world was out to get me?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Hah!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The world had gotten this person behind the hat.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>No ability to walk, stand, or even feed and dress him or herself.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>So grossly deformed that others are shocked at the sight of him or her.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And on top of it all, this person is carried to a crowded market, propped up and left to watch thousands of people go by, walking, riding bikes, driving, holding hands, laughing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Just a glimpse of the things this person could never hope to do. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I found a seat on the bus and stared out the window with what felt like hollow eyes.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I tried to find the empathy to feel what this person would feel to have use of my body for a day.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Everything that irritated me, made me hurt, and made me mad, this person would cherish every sensation of.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I imagined this person using my body to relive this day for me. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Eventually I turn my imagination to the other side of this deal.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I would have to spend a day in this persons’ body.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I imagined being picked up out of bed long after I had woke up.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My bed consisted of a mat on a concrete or dirt floor.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was sure my diaper would then be changed, maybe if I were lucky I would have a catheter and only the bag would need to be changed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A brother or sister would have the responsibility to feed me breakfast.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Hopefully, I could communicate what I preferred to eat, and I assumed I would be able to chew a bit so that I could have somewhat normal food.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I might then be taken to a nearby morning market and left to collect change, but I imagined instead that I would be left to lie in one spot until late afternoon.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then I would be carried to Gung Gwang Market and propped up, a hat would be left in front of me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I then knew what to do, stare.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Stare with empty eyes burning through everything.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was able to visualize this quite clearly since I was just there.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I could sense the crowds on both sides with clearing straight ahead.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Legs flashing passed as coins jingled in the hat.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I began to feel the emptiness as I stared out he bus window.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Up to this point what I imagined was consciously controlled, I chose to create these images in my mind, I chose what feelings to feel.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Suddenly that ended.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My stare was fixed and far away, but someone stepped out into the clearing right in front of me and stopped.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I saw myself reach into my front pockets but they were empty, then I pulled out my wallet and shuffled though some bills pulling out a 100 dollar bill, paused for just a moment then tuck the bill back into my wallet and returned the wallet to my back pocket as I began to walk off.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As I slipped away into the crowd, I was rocked back to reality.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My eyes filled with tears, the full message hit me all at once.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It didn’t matter what my intentions were, the message I had sent to this person was clear.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“You're not worth two dollars and fifty cents to me.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It didn’t stop there, that was the same message I had been sending to all the people around me for years, including my family, especially my father and my brother.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Whatever I thought my intentions were counted for nothing, whatever I thought of myself didn’t matter, my actions were screaming “Your not worth two dollars and fifty cents to me.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I knew they had heard.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Finally, I was able to see.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Ever since I was thirteen or fourteen I was caught up with my own pursuits, my own goals, my own stuff.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had plans.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had everything worked out.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was busy and I didn’t have time for anyone else’s plans.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I did not tolerate interruptions or distractions.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I pretty much stopped doing anything with my family.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I didn’t go on vacations with them, didn’t eat with them, didn’t even watch TV with them, nothing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Unless, of course, I needed something from them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It wasn’t that I didn’t love them, or like them, or that I was trying to prove some kind of point.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was just too busy with my stuff.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My focus was on me and no one else. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I had sent this message to everyone in my family. I felt it hurt my brother and my father the most.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My mother was determined to be involved in my life so she became interested in <i>my</i> stuff and helped me get what I needed (camera, bicycle, guitar).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I didn’t exclude her as much.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My sisters didn’t seem too interested in doing anything with me anyway.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But my brother was five years younger than me and looked up to me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He was interested in the things I liked and wanted to do stuff with me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I didn’t see this at the time, I was busy, my younger brother would just be in the way and slow me down.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I realized my neglect had hurt him.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He needed me and I wasn’t there for him.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He had definitely got my message “Your not worth two dollars and fifty cents to me,” even though I never meant it. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It seemed like my father and I were always distant.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I don’t remember ever doing anything with him, just the two of us.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Except when I was 15, my mother made him take me to see the Dallas Cowboys play in San Francisco.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We took a Greyhound bus to San Francisco and didn’t speak to each other at all except for logistics like “What would you like to eat?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>What time does the bus leave?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I am sure we did things together when I was younger, but I have no memories of them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I don’t think either one of us knew how to do the father and son thing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I remember not wanting him to help me with anything.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I would not even allow him to help me with scout projects or putting my toys together.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Later, when I was older, he would fix dinner every weekend.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He would call down to my basement room “Dinner’s ready, come and eat.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I never did.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was busy playing guitar or doing homework.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I would go up to eat when I was ready, long after everyone else had left the table.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I never really gave him an opportunity to do anything with me.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>On the bus ride home that evening, I decided I was going to change.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I needed to be there when people needed me, even if it wasn’t convenient for me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was going to find a way to do things with my family, especially my brother and my father.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Things they planned, things they wanted to do.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was going to change, I wanted to let all my friends and family know they are “Worth two dollars and fifty cents to me.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It had to be through actions and I had a lot of ground to make up.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I spent the next few days planning things I could do to get this new message out.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Things don’t always go as I plan.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A few days later I was retuning to the United States, on my birthday.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>After my fiancé and I landed in Seattle, I called home to let everyone know we were almost home.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We still needed to drive to Utah.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My brother’s girlfriend answered the phone, she told me my family was all at the hospital.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My father had attempted suicide.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Fortunately, after overdosing on pills and alcohol he somehow drove himself to the hospital.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When we finally made it to Utah, my father was still in the hospital and did not want to see or talk to anyone in the family.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A week or so later when he did finally agree to see someone, he wanted to see me, just me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was very nervous going to see him.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Why did he want to see me?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When I saw him in the hallway of the hospital, we both broke into tears, we hugged each other.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He told me he loved me, and I told my father I loved him.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>That is all I remember about that visit. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I don’t know all the problems that led my father to attempt suicide.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I felt that at least some of them had to do with me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I never learned exactly when he attempted suicide, but I learned of it on my birthday.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I assumed it had to have been on the eve of my birthday or on my birthday.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I don’t think it was just coincidence either.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He wasn’t trying to ruin my birthday, I was just one of many things on his mind.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had just gotten engaged and would be leaving home soon.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I think he felt guilty for never being the father he thought he should have been to me, and now I was leaving.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Maybe that was more than he could take with everything else he was dealing with. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">Over the next few years my father worked very hard to understand the sources of his feelings of worthlessness, guilt, and anger.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He attended many counseling programs, which helped him understand himself better and hopefully relieved his negative feelings towards himself.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I really only remember one of the issues my father faced during his counseling, his relationship with <i>his</i> father.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He was essentially the youngest of eleven children (his younger sister died when she was four).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>His father was too busy hunting, fishing, and prospecting to ever spend time with the youngest.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He was often gone for long periods of time.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My father was basically ignored by his father, abandoned.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They never had a father-son relationship.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My father was burdened with pain from his childhood, much of it came from not having a relationship with his father.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The pain carried over to adulthood too.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He had become the type of father his father was in that he didn’t know how to relate to his children, at least not to me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I feel this was part of the reason I became so withdrawn and self-centered.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was a defense mechanism for me, if no one was going to be there for me, it’s better not to want anyone there. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>By the time I learned about this, I had gotten married, moved out, graduated, started my career, etc. etc.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My brother had graduated from high school and moved away to attend collage. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It seamed I didn’t have much time or many opportunities to show them, to prove to them that they “meant two dollars and fifty cent to me.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I did try when I could, but I don’t know if I even could ever erase twenty years sending the wrong message.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It seemed I had gotten the message too late.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>At the time I was learning bits about my father’s past and how if affected him throughout his life, I became very concerned about my own ability to be a father.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My relationship with my father seemed similar to his relationship with his father.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Would I be a distant father, like my father and his father?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I often thought back to the vision of myself I saw on that bus.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I have to be available to my kids when they needed me, on their schedule not mine.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I have to show interest in the things they are interested in.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I must show them by my actions how much they mean to me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I still didn’t know if I could do this, I wanted to, but I had a pretty poor track record.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Before my first child was born, I was nervous.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was never very good with kids.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I didn’t know what to say to them, what to do with them, nothing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I just avoided them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Fortunately, the moment my daughter was born all that was forgotten.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I willingly attended to her every need at any time day or night.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I always knew what to say to her, what to do with her, and always wanted to be with her. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>When my second child was on the way, I became nervous again.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I thought, “Okay, I can do the father & daughter thing, but what if I have a son?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Do I know how to be a father to a son, will I be able to?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Will it turn out like me and my father, or my father and his father?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My second child was a son and fortunately these feelings and thoughts disappeared the moment he was born.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When I first held him in my arms, I never doubted myself as a father again. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I often think of my father and the disappointment and pain he has struggled through.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He has paid an incredible price experiencing both sides of poor father-son relationships and struggled to break this cycle in his family.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>His struggles have made me aware of these issues and helped me understand what it takes to be a father. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">Over the years, I have also often been reminded of the person propped up in the market.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When my kids interrupt me when I am busy playing guitar, surfing the net, or just focused on my stuff, I see a bit of that look in their eyes.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I know they need me, and they need me now.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It’s time to drop what I am doing and show them they are “Worth two dollars and fifty cents to me.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It’s time to read them a book, play cards with them, snuggle, or whatever it is <i>they</i> need.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I have not been perfect at this by any means, but I have been consistent enough that my kids still come to me, they know I’ll be there when they need someone.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>In June of 2001, I had planned to spend Father’s Day by myself in Palau.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We had gone to Taiwan to visits my wife’s family.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I wanted to do some scuba diving on my vacation so I had taken off to Palau.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My kids, then ages 10 and 12, were not happy that I was going to be away from them for Father’s Day.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They wanted to be with me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had already completed the diving I planned to do and was going to do some sea kayaking, and hiking.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I really wanted to do those things with my kids, and was already planning to take them to Palau next time we visited Taiwan.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I decided I could wait for the hiking and kayaking and I would go back to Taiwan to be with my kids for Father’s Day. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I cut my trip short and got back to Taiwan late the night before Father’s Day. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">The next morning, Father’s Day, the kids wanted to take me to a place they had been while I was in Palau.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was to a place called Tamsui.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They told me of the millions of crabs and mudskippers that were there and they knew of a place we could get some great chou tou-fu (stinky bean curd), my favorite food anywhere.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My wife needed to visit some friends so my kids and I took off for a Father’s Day adventure.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As we traveled, they paid for the bus and train tickets with their money.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They knew how to get there and were leading me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It took an hour or so to get to the place with the crabs and mudskippers.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When we stepped out of the air-conditioned train we were greeted with a steaming blast of Taiwan air and the toasting rays of the late morning sun.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We melted as we walked down the path to see the critters.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The nearly unbearable heat made it even more amazing to see fish out of water basking on the mud flats.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Occasionally they would hop into a shallow pool just enough to get wet and then hop back out into the sun.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There were many crabs but not nearly as many as the kids saw earlier in the week.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Maybe they were taking a break from the sun, which is what we were forced to do. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">We found a McDonald’s with air-conditioning.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The kids ate lunch there.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was saving room for chou tou-fu.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Since I wasn’t eating there, the kids let me pay for them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We were soon back on the train heading to the Tamsui market.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This place was by the sea and received a lot of out of town visitors.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The area was half market half tourist trap.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We found the mobile stands that sold barbeque chou tou-fu and we each had some along with passion fruit juice and snow cones.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The kids again insisted on treating me with their own money.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We found a bench in the shade where we ate and hid from the sun for a while.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The afternoon thunderstorms that had been rolling in daily to cool things off were nowhere in sight. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">The kids wanted to show me a few more sights in the area so after resting we headed down the main street of the market.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Like all the markets it was fairly crowed with people wandering in every direction.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The street was a bit wider than most so we had sort of a clear path down the center.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Soon after entering the street, I notice a man in a wheel chair.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He wasn’t grossly deformed, but he was clearly handicapped.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He wasn’t begging, he was selling candy, gum, and some handmade trinkets.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I quickly asked the kids if they would like some gum.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I think this surprised them, as I never ask them if they want candy, I usually get after them for eating too much candy.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Their answer surprised me just as much, “I don’t want any gum.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It didn’t matter, I was going to buy some anyway.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I walked over near his wheelchair and asked him how much the gum cost.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He tried to verbally tell me as I leaned over to listen carefully.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I could not clearly translate the sounds he made into words I understood, I thought it sounded like fifteen dollars in Chinese.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then I notice what I probably subconsciously saw that helped me with the translation.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He was trying to point to a small cardboard sign that read fifteen dollars.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I reached into my pocket, pull out some change and traded him fifteen dollars for a pack of gum. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">I chewed a piece of gum as we continue to walk down the street.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The kids showed me the place where blind people give massages and a few other cool stores.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When we were well down this street my son said, “Dad, I want to tip that guy.” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">I was pretty sure I knew what he meant but to make sure I replied, “What guy?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">“That guy we bought the gum from, I feel bad for him.” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">“Okay.” I said, “We’ll just walk to the end of this street, then walk back down the next street over and we will be very close to where he is.” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">We continued to walk down the street a little ways before my son said, “No, I want to go back right now, I’m afraid he might not be there.” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">This was obviously more important to him than seeing whatever was on the next street, so we turn around and headed back.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A little ways down the street my son asked, “How much should I tip him?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">“That's up to you.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">After a few moments he asked, “Can I tip him one hundred dollars?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">“Sure.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">After a few more steps he asked, “Do I use your money or mine?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">“That's up to you too.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">He thought for a moment then said, “I’ll use my money.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">I don’t think we spoke again until we were very close this man.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There were a few ladies looking at the crafts he had for sale.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>While he was busy, I coached my son on how to say in Chinese “This is a gift for you, my friend.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When the ladies had selected their trinket and left, my son and I approached him.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My son held out a one hundred dollar bill and said what I told him to, but he said it a bit quiet and I don’t think the man heard.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He looked a bit confused, like “What do you want to buy?” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">With my arm around my son, I said in Chinese, “He would like to give this to you.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">The man’s face lit up with joy.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>His eyes sparkled with life and he burst into a smile from ear to ear.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A spontaneous smile, that can only come from happiness, the kind that cannot be faked.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>His smile was huge, every one of his crooked, chipped, and stained teeth were showing, it was truly one of the most beautiful smiles I will ever see.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As he smiled he made a sound, it was kind of like a happy groan.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It sounded nothing like the Chinese word for “Thank you,” which my son knows very well, but I leaned over and whispered to my son, “He says thank you.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">“I know.” My son replied out loud without turning to me or taking his eyes off of this man’s happiness.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">As we waved and said goodbye, I could hardly believe the irony of what had just happened.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I knew my son understood the importance of letting people know they are “Worth two dollars and fifty cents to him.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">At the edge of the market we stopped and ate more barbequed chou tou-fu, not because we were hungry but because we would soon be leaving Taiwan.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had my picture taken with each of my kids by the market for Father’s Day. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">Exhausted from the heat, the air-conditioned train felt so good.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My kids sat on either side of me with my arms around them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>With all of our energy gone and our stomachs full, we sort of melted together on the long ride back. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">The smile I had that afternoon was not nearly as big as the man’s back at the market, at least not on the outside.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Mine was more on the inside, but it stemmed from the same type of spontaneous happiness.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had just received the most incredible Father’s Day gift and nobody even new it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was a gift that came from my father, and my son, and a beggar that I had only seen once seventeen years earlier.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My father had struggled most of his life with pain, guilt, shame, and anger as a result of a poor relationship with his father.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When he was nearly at the point of giving in to these negative feelings, he chose instead to find the source, understand them, and overcome them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>By doing this he taught me how to be a father.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The beggar had shown me how I appear to others and helped me realize my self-centered ways had to change.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My son had just confirmed that he was not self-centered and that the generation-to-generation chain of poor father-son relationships had been broken.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This was the best Father’s Day. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">Sometimes, things turn out much better than I plan.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-35619388354137840962020-05-17T21:05:00.000-06:002020-05-17T21:30:37.202-06:00Amazing Phenomena I'vd Seen<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs0IGCWzsl74lw-r9XJxfHu5h3OvEnbHNqL7HDR6skD0MULYNvyHI4pXRrSRS_WNTK_PnwAorV0BCqZZjlzYusWHDCqXRgR2zbUANiLFFBPKADh5PT-xlj3Lsj2c3DIW0k0F3uKePfUC-o/s1600/750_6158-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1281" data-original-width="1600" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs0IGCWzsl74lw-r9XJxfHu5h3OvEnbHNqL7HDR6skD0MULYNvyHI4pXRrSRS_WNTK_PnwAorV0BCqZZjlzYusWHDCqXRgR2zbUANiLFFBPKADh5PT-xlj3Lsj2c3DIW0k0F3uKePfUC-o/s640/750_6158-3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Total Solar Eclipse - August 21, 2017</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">Vivid Hypnagogic Hallucinations</span></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">I recently discovered there was a name for this and I’m not the only one to have this happen.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">From Wikipedia “</span><b style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(26, 26, 26); color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">Hypnagogia</b><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> is the experience of the transitional state between </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wakefulness" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(26, 26, 26); font-size: 14px;"><span class="s2" style="color: #092f9d; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">wakefulness</span></a><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> and </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleep" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(26, 26, 26); font-size: 14px;"><span class="s2" style="color: #092f9d; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">sleep</span></a><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> in humans: the </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(26, 26, 26); color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">hypnagogic</i><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> state of </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Consciousness" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(26, 26, 26); font-size: 14px;"><span class="s2" style="color: #092f9d; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">consciousness</span></a><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">, during the </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleep_onset" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(26, 26, 26); font-size: 14px;"><span class="s2" style="color: #092f9d; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">onset of sleep</span></a><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">. Mental phenomena that occur during this "threshold consciousness" phase include lucid thought, </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lucid_dream" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(26, 26, 26); font-size: 14px;"><span class="s2" style="color: #092f9d; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">lucid dreaming</span></a><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">, </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hallucination" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(26, 26, 26); font-size: 14px;"><span class="s2" style="color: #092f9d; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">hallucinations</span></a><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">, and </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleep_paralysis" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(26, 26, 26); font-size: 14px;"><span class="s2" style="color: #092f9d; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">sleep paralysis</span></a><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">.” There are different types of images that can be seen but they are described as “Individual images are typically fleeting and given to very rapid changes.” I have seen two type of images in this state.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">Faces and mathematical/physics notebook pages.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">For me the images are in black and white.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">I typically dream in black and white, it’s really more like gray and grayer in a heavy fog.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">This makes the vivid images even more strange to me.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">The faces appear like they are drawn with a pencil.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">The crazy thing is how fast they change.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">I see each one for just a fraction of a second and then it is instantly replaced by another.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">All different kinds of faces; men, women, children, elderly, friendly and unfriendly.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">I never recognize any of the faces as someone I know.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">I am not completely asleep when this happens and I’m conscious enough to think about what’s happening.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">I can’t believe something in my brain is generating all these faces so quickly.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">I can’t control it.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">Can’t slow it down.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">Can’t stop it.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">The first few times this happened it scared me because I thought I might see something I did’t want to see.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">The only thing I could do to stop it was to somehow find the ability to open my eyes (it wasn’t easy).</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">I’ve never seen anything scary so now I just enjoy the show until I slip into sleep.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">The other kind I see is what I can only describe as pages of math and physics homework or notebooks.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">They are pages with mathematical equations and physics diagrams.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">Like the faces they rapidly change.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">I can’t close my eyes and consciously visualize anything like it.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">Not even one static image.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">Of course it doesn’t happen all the time just once in a while so when it does I just enjoy it.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;">It blows my mind to be seeing these images that are generated in my head and yet I can’t control or stop it. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">Rain drops in the ocean</span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">I’ve seen many amazing things while scuba diving that could make this list.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Rain is probably not on anyone’s list of things to see while diving.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It wasn’t on mine.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>At the end of a dive in Palau I could see it was raining during the safety stop and that looked pretty cool to look up and see the many ripples on the surface spreading out from each rain drop.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>However it was when I got to the surface that was really memorable.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was raining big drops but not very heavy so there was plenty of space between the drops.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When I surfaced I floated so my mask was partly above water and partly below.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The surface was calm.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It seemed I could see forever across the sea.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The raindrops hit the water and formed the classical splash and the rebound drop of water shooting up from the surface.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Maybe it was the magnification of the scuba mask but the drops and splashes seemed huge.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I recently saw a video by Paul Nicklen that shows rain from this perspective (with the addition of a crocodile):<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><a href="https://vimeo.com/256797730">https://vimeo.com/256797730</a></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">Snow from airplane with strobe</span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">One night I was flying into Salt Lake City when we flew through a snow flurry.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There was a light on the wing that illuminated the snowflakes in front of the wing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Due to the speed of the plane the snowflakes appeared as white horizontal streaks.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There was also a strobe light on the wing that flashed about every second.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The strobe was fast enough to visually freeze the snowflakes in place for a fraction of a second.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Visually there were horizontal white streaks of snow and once every second they would all stand perfect still just long enough to perceive it then they would blur again. I may not have describe it very well but it was a memorable illusion. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">Bioluminescence</span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">Once on a business trip to Puerto Rico I planned to visit a nearby bioluminescence bay.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was with 3 others from work but I rented the car.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I told them where I planned to go and said they could come along if they liked.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They all chose to go with me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I didn’t know much about the tour just that we would get on a boat and go see it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was a small boat that was near capacity with about 12 people total.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was a warm dark evening with no moon.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The boat ride was about 30 minutes.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As we approached the bioluminescence bay we could begin to see flashes of light in the boat’s wake.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then the wake began to glow greenish blue.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When the boat came to a stop a few of the locals began stripping down to their underwear to jump in.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I didn’t know this was optional but I quickly made one of the best impromptu decision I’ve ever made.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I handed my wallet to a coworker and said I’m going in.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I stripped down to my underwear, stepped up to the edge of the boat and dove in head first.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was very dark and I couldn’t see the water when I jumped but as soon as I hit the water it exploded with green light.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was like I was swimming in a neon light.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>After what seemed like just a few seconds the tour guide was telling me and the others to get back in the boat (maybe it wasn’t an optional part of the tour).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I wanted to stay in the water longer so swam around the boat before getting in.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As I swam I could see individual dinoflagellates give off their tiny burst of light like flashing stars in a sea of neon green.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Reluctantly I climbed into the boat and dried off in the warm breeze as the boat raced back to shore.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I’ve not made it back to a bioluminescence bay yet but I hope to. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcwkZRUaxqcGXos5ggabtR-vzHK9xqUbqUdDeknSEiQ8ZKm35GG397kl_QmmxUTnYWrd03Tiw8OhiBwSSb2IhxmSAFY_yw1fUZ115CLQFSUaO0OGRNBUP4pKMCG0HrFaqCXnTxIE7xVZ0t/s1600/Eclipse+May+20-2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="990" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcwkZRUaxqcGXos5ggabtR-vzHK9xqUbqUdDeknSEiQ8ZKm35GG397kl_QmmxUTnYWrd03Tiw8OhiBwSSb2IhxmSAFY_yw1fUZ115CLQFSUaO0OGRNBUP4pKMCG0HrFaqCXnTxIE7xVZ0t/s640/Eclipse+May+20-2012.jpg" width="632" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Annular Solar Eclipse - May 20, 2012</td></tr>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">Annular solar eclipse a few years back was pretty cool to see but it was seen through filters and eclipse glasses.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I once read that on a scale of 1 to 10 an annular solar eclipse is a 9 and a total solar eclipse is a 100.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I agree.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The total solar eclipse in August of 2017 was without a doubt the most amazing phenomenon I have ever seen.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had read about total eclipses and seen photos and videos but nothing was like seeing the real thing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I read some advice for photographers seeing their first eclipse that went something like this.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Don’t try to take any photos at all.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Just take it all in.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I took this advice, sort of.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I did try to take photos.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had two cameras setup one with a filter to capture the eclipse up to totality and one to take photos of totality.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They were both set on interval mode so they were both taking photos the whole time and I didn’t need to touch the cameras.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I just needed to remove the lens cap of the camera set to capture totality just before totality and put the lens cap back on just after totality.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>However, I had to guess at the settings needed for totality and I set it up to bracket the exposure incase my guess was off.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was off.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Only the lowest exposure shots captured any detail but even in those much of the sun’s corona was blown out (just white, no detail).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I’m so glad I didn’t try to get good photos of the total eclipse.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>If I’d tried to get everything right I would have been messing with my cameras the whole time and missed much of the experience of the eclipse.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The brilliance and beauty of the sun’s corona is difficult to describe.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I understand how people get hooked on chasing total solar eclipses. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-12400956500889437752020-04-29T19:41:00.000-06:002020-04-29T20:11:10.698-06:00Stupid Dreams<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I hate dreams.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I mean the kind that I have when I’m asleep.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They never make sense.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They are stupid and stressful, the places and situations continually change and I’m unable to anything that I’m trying to do even performing simple tasks.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>However, often I’m able to recognize that I am dreaming and that sometime helps me deal with the stress and stupidity.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I typically dream in black and white or more precisely gray and grayer in a heavy fog.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Sometimes during a stressful dream I will ask myself “Am I seeing black and white or color?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>If it’s black and white I know it’s a dream and just let it go on without stressing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A few times I’ve been fooled.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Even if just one object is in color it’s enough to fool me and I conclude that I’m not dreaming and it is real.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then I really get stressed out. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Sometimes when a dream goes really bad I can rewind and dream it again with a more favorable outcome.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I’m not sure how I recognize it’s a dream and it can be rewound but at least it’s less stressful that way.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A few weeks ago I had a dream where I was unable to get ready for bed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was nearly impossible to get my shirt off and when I did there was another shirt underneath it and it just kept repeating.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was pulling so hard to get my arms out of the sleeves and when I finally did there was another shirt that had to be removed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I finally just fell to the ground and started crying because I couldn't even take my shirt off.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then I dreamed I woke up and I was telling people about this dream I had where it was so difficult to get my shirt off and when I did there were more shirts underneath it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was dreaming about telling people about the dream I was dreaming.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When I woke up for real I told Chammy about the dream I had telling people about the dream I had in the same dream.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Last night I came up with a new way to escape a dream.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I dreamed I woke up at my desk at work at 3:00 in the afternoon and I didn’t know how long I had been asleep.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was nothing like my real work place (but that’s typical for my dreams).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was worried that I’d be in trouble for sleeping at work but there was no one else in the area.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I notice some smoke so I began to look around and saw a fire in a lab area.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then I noticed more fires.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I tried to get other employees to get out but no one listened.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I found a fire extinguisher but it didn’t work so I started to run.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The place I was in was like a subway station, underground with arched ceilings and many stairways and other smaller tunnels off to the sides.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I kept finding more fires and was trying to get the people to run but they all ignored me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This went on for awhile and I couldn’t find a way out.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then it dawned on me that this was just a dream.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I decided to get out by walking through the wall because it was a dream and the wall wasn’t real.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I calmly walked into the wall.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I only got a part way through it and then got stuck.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then I panicked and started screaming “Wake me up!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Chammy, wake me up!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Help! Somebody wake me up!”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I don’t think I was talking or screaming in my sleep because Chammy would have woken up.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I did manage to wake myself up about that time.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I didn’t go back to sleep for awhile.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I just laid there thinking how my dreams are evolving to a new level of crazy. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">What kind of crazy dreams do you have?</span></span></div>
Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-36986798934341866902017-02-04T16:51:00.001-07:002021-04-06T12:49:09.269-06:00 Freddy<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQh_b9ZpUX-2nMlvSNXccKPYaTTlv-K7YpX_Su8WRzWJxSrPMR6KneSWzY7djYCS9DCgSfNJTZ0NH47aWbehF9HKUViT_lc9mFfkMaAIcqa22vDO50woKKCJsug3HuFiUOkv7-SxKMdGR9/s1600/DSC_0374.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQh_b9ZpUX-2nMlvSNXccKPYaTTlv-K7YpX_Su8WRzWJxSrPMR6KneSWzY7djYCS9DCgSfNJTZ0NH47aWbehF9HKUViT_lc9mFfkMaAIcqa22vDO50woKKCJsug3HuFiUOkv7-SxKMdGR9/s640/DSC_0374.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: x-small;">This is the beach in Palau where I last met Freddy in 2001. This photo was taken in 2007 by my son. </span></td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">One day on my way to school I came upon a group of 3 or 4 fifth graders bullying a first grader. They were pushing him into a chainlink fence and kicking him. The first grader was scared and crying. I immediately called out “Leave him alone.” The 5th graders stopped and looked my way. As I approached them I said with as much confidence and authority as I could “Leave him alone.” They left him alone at that point. They were probably about done beating him up anyways. They slowly walked off calling me and the first grader names. They were all a year older than me and they out numbered me. They could have easily done to me what they did to the first grader but they didn’t. They just called me a few names and were gone. I picked up the boy’s lunch sack that had been stomped on and completely flattened and handed it to him. I was sorry I didn’t have anything to share with him because I always ate school lunch and had nothing with me. I walked the rest of the way to school with him. I’m not sure what we talked about but I learned his name was Freddy. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">Later in life I met a few other young boys while I was out walking. I never learned their names but collectively I think of all of them as Freddy. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">The second time I met Freddy was in San Francisco. I was 16 and my dad was taking me to see the Dallas Cowboys play the 49ers on Monday Night Football. Most of the trip was paid for with beer cans. My dad and I would often walk along the side of the highways and pick up aluminum cans and take them to be recycled. We would get a few cents per pound. We saved up enough to pay the fares for a Greyhound bus to San Francisco and the game tickets. We stayed one night in a motel in San Francisco. We caught a city bus from the motel to Candlestick Park. We didn’t know which stop was closest to Candlestick so we asked the bus driver to let us know when to get off. When we could see the stadium the bus driver stopped and told us to just walk straight down this street as he pointed to the stadium. We got out and started walking down the street. We didn’t get very far before we felt out of place. It was a residential street with houses on both sides built very close together. The residence were staring at us. Soon some of them began yelling at us. </span></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: large;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">“Hey mother f@#kers! What you doin’ here.”</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">“Get your white asses atta here.”</span></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: large;"> “You gonna die mother f&#kers.” We were scared but just tried to look straight ahead and walked as quickly as we could. The yelling must have gotten everyone’s attention. Men and women started yelling at us from windows. Those that weren’t yelling were staring at us with looks that could kill. Suddenly there was a young boy walking next to me. </span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">“Are you going to the game?” he asked in a excited voice. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">“Uh, yes.” I said. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">“Wow, I wish I could go to a game. Have you been to a game before.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">The name calling stopped as soon as he started talking to us. The adults still gave us unhappy looks but they didn’t say anything. He was a curious 9 or 10 year old boy but we felt much safer walking with him by our side. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">He continued asking questions and talking about football. He was very happy and was exited to hear about the football players I had seen. He stayed by our side until we got to the end of the street which was the start of the stadium parking lot. I remember him saying something like “Have fun at the game. I wish I could go to a game.” </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">Even as a young kid going to a few professional football games I felt something wasn’t right. I knew all the players. I knew their numbers, positions and their stats. I knew many if not most were black. But I didn’t see black people in the stands as fans. That always bothered me. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqD5vFDyWJhymFoltnp80Q-x_hHBsG9-yA3919bpBbKEU80_K1SvJedCvfpVYe2xt57-IDCIdAFIh82QaKeIQk4Tv5S8I68FcHs9nzf7ueiILO2PUsXJoNqhocNWKVrlJUgmNS-N93Vyy_/s1600/Dallas+vs+49ers002.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="431" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqD5vFDyWJhymFoltnp80Q-x_hHBsG9-yA3919bpBbKEU80_K1SvJedCvfpVYe2xt57-IDCIdAFIh82QaKeIQk4Tv5S8I68FcHs9nzf7ueiILO2PUsXJoNqhocNWKVrlJUgmNS-N93Vyy_/s640/Dallas+vs+49ers002.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: small;">This is a photo I took at the Monday Night Football game between the Dallas Cowboys and San Francisco 49ers in 1977.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I began walking to school every morning with Freddy.</span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I was his bodyguard.</span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I’m sure no one who knows me now can picture me as a bodyguard but in fourth grade I was respected on the playground.</span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I played football at recess and lunch with fourth and fifth graders.</span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">My nickname was Legs because my friends said I was the fastest kid in the school.</span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I knew that wasn’t true.</span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">My older sister was faster than me and surely there were some other sixth graders who were faster.</span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">But I wasn’t about to say anything.</span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I liked the reputation and I liked being one of the dominate kids on the playground.</span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">When Freddy was with me he was safe.</span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Every morning we met across the street from my house at the start of a short cut through a vacant lot, then walked to school. </span><span class="s1"></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">At the time I lived in San Bernardino, California. This was the time of Vietnam War protests and racial riots. Our house was next to San Gorgonio High School. That year there were days when I walked to school with the sidewalks lined with riot police with their helmets, shields and guns. I remember seeing fighting from our front window. I’m not sure how my parents did it, probably just by example, but I grew up with a compassion and empathy for black people. I didn’t know much about history then but I knew they were not treated good. I always wanted them to be treated equally and succeed in everything they did. It really upset me that Freddy was bullied and called names because of the color of his skin. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span class="s1"></span></span><br /><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">The next time I walked with Freddy was in Taiwan. I lived there for the summer of 1983 during college break. I didn’t really have much to do other than study Chinese on my own. Nearly every day I would go out walking around Taipei. This particular evening I went to the very southwest side of Taipei across the Tamsui River to Youghe. The Youghe District was famous for places that served breakfast all day long. I always called them 豆漿 (doujiang - soy milk) places. I love the cold 豆漿 they serve. After having breakfast for dinner I decided to walk home (with the help of Google Maps I just learned this is about 8 miles). It was already dark as I started to walk home. Back then it seemed Taipei fell asleep as soon as it got dark. There was much less traffic, fewer pedestrians and everything closed except night markets. By the time I passed the old baseball stadium the city was very quiet. Out of nowhere I heard a voice from behind me say in Chinese “What are you doing out so late?” I turned around to see a young boy with a dog on a leash.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">“I’m walking home. What are you doing out this late?” I replied in Chinese. </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">“Walking my dog. Where do you live?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">We continued the conversation as we walked. We were the only two out and there were very few cars. Eventually an ambulance raced by with it’s lights flashing and siren blaring. It turned down a side street a few blocks in front of us and disappeared. A minute later it reappeared and went down one more block, turned and disappeared again. Soon it reappeared again and went one more block down, turned and disappeared. </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">The conversation was very unusual for me. This young boy initiated the conversation in Chinese and was not surprised nor impressed with my response in Chinese. He didn’t even say “Oh, your Chinese is so good. Where did you learn to speak it.” He didn’t say anything about me being a foreigner. He didn’t acknowledge that I was a foreigner in anyway. He treated me like a neighbor that he saw everyday. It was great. </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">We walked a few blocks then he ended the conversation as abruptly as it began “I got to go now. 再見 (zaijian - goodbye).” </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHsbI5uULOXSTec7DrrjYpCS9fCUG6KA_IyXjfYkESxL62-S71JLieI50s2s-hAQtg7SGLxKBqzyr8B0u5o6yPI7elk5jIWYlwAaYdT9eKuLKRRpeU0-Dok1uAAG7owC5lI0rMhg0IGSoc/s1600/Taiwan83006.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHsbI5uULOXSTec7DrrjYpCS9fCUG6KA_IyXjfYkESxL62-S71JLieI50s2s-hAQtg7SGLxKBqzyr8B0u5o6yPI7elk5jIWYlwAaYdT9eKuLKRRpeU0-Dok1uAAG7owC5lI0rMhg0IGSoc/s640/Taiwan83006.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: small;">The streets of Taipei in 1983. </span></td></tr>
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<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">I was not a fighter. I had never been in a fist fight (I still haven’t) but I knew there was a possibility I would have to fight walking Freddy to school everyday. After all I was his body guard. Fortunately I never ran into any trouble while walking him to school. However, one evening I was out playing when I was confronted by a kid that lived down the street. He said “Why are you walking that n&#%^ to school?” He shoved me and I shoved him back. Luckily for me a friend who was a few years older stepped in and broke it up right then. There was no way for me to win this fight. If it ended any way other than me getting my ass totally kicked he would have come back with 2 or 3 of his older brothers and beat the shit out of me. I had seen them gang up to beat up kids then urinate on them. I’m sure that would have happened to me if I had hurt this kid in any way. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">The last time I saw Freddy was June 13, 2001 in Palau. I was walking along a beach after dark watching lightning in the distance and faint bioluminescence in the waves. There was an opening in the clouds that I mistook for a light thin cloud. Once I realized it was an opening in the clouds I could see many stars through the opening. I had a small flash light to watch out for cane toads. There were many out in the evenings and I didn’t want to step on one. I noticed hermit crabs on the sand and other crabs darting out of the light. A young Palauan boy approached me. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">“Do you speak Palauan?” He asked. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">“No, do you speak English?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">“No.” He said. But obviously he spoke a little. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">I said “I do know how to say hello, ah lee.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">He then taught me how to say “Dong-o-long.” But I didn’t know what it meant. At first I thought it meant crab because he was pointing at one. But when I pointed at one and said “Dong-o-long” he acted as if I got it all wrong. Eventually I came to believe it meant “Yes.” Whatever it means the boy was very happy I learned to say it. I then asked him what his name was. He got frustrated because I just couldn’t say it right. </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">He then spotted a crab that was holding still in the light and he slowly crept closer to it. I held the light on it. When he got too close the crab started to run. The boy jumped towards it and reach out with his bare foot to stomp on it. He missed. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">He then asked “Do you know splash?” </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">I said splash like the waves and pointed the light to the small waves crashing on the sand. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">He looked confused and asked again. This time I just said “Splash?” Thinking I might be hearing him wrong. He pointed to a small building ahead on the beach and said “That is splash.” The building was the dive shop at the resort named Splash. </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">He then said something about “Mama” and turned to go. I asked him how to say good bye. He said “ May-ee-gong.” So I repeated it and waved as he turned and ran off. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span class="s1"></span></span><br /><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">One Spring morning late in the school year I saw a lady turn the corner with Freddy. I waited in the street in front of my house as they walked to our meeting spot. When they approached the lady said “I’m Freddy’s mother. You must be Ross. Thank you. Thank you for walking to school with Freddy.” I could tell she was sincerely grateful and it meant a lot to her. </span></span></div>
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<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">Shortly after that school year ended we moved and I never saw Freddy again. Off and on I think of Freddy. I’ve thought of him more and more the last few years. I wonder if he got beat up walking to school again. I wonder if the police often pull him over and harass him for minor or made up violations. I wonder if he gets watched in stores like he’s some kind of criminal. Did he get treated as if he wasn’t smart in school. Does he get paid less than his white coworkers. Does he worry that his kids will get beat up walking to school. </span></span></div>
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<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: large;">I think about Freddy’s mom too. </span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: large;">I now have kids of my own.</span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: large;"> </span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: large;">They say I am over protective.</span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: large;"> </span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: large;">I do want the best for them and worry a lot.</span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: large;"> </span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: large;">However there is no way I can even imagine how Freddy’s mom must feel.</span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: large;"> </span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: large;">I don’t know what I would do if I feared that my child would get bullied and beat up every time he left the house or if I knew my child would be discriminated against and treated unfairly in nearly every aspect of life.</span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: large;"> </span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: large;">The “Thank you” Freddy’s mom gave me means more to me than any other “Thank you” I have ever received. </span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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</style>Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-31943669035870831482017-01-25T20:07:00.000-07:002017-01-25T20:07:20.913-07:00AntarcticaThere was a photo contest at the end of the expedition to Antarctica on our ship the Akademik Sergey Vavilov. The expedition's photographer, another professional photographer and a few others on the staff were the initial judges they sorted through over 1000 entries and selected 5 photos for each of 4 categories. I entered a dozen photos with at least 1 in each category. The passengers then selected the winners based on applause. Of the 20 finalist photos selected be the judges, 5 were mine with at least one in every category. None of mine were selected as winners by the passengers' applause but I still felt pretty good knowing that 1/4 of the photos chosen by the judges were mine. Here are a few I entered along with a few others I've worked on since I got home. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgerB-lyRZmsPVAWmQGDULZqn_vi_8iXoVSNnziU97XiNoJT0pMw1yvDGPS1aGLD4RB9-iGemXqdep8s-kH89mtu3lBIZ7riG4hyphenhyphenpVRebEbzdLZ7XPJYJo0znUNjFPq_mV5ElSFarrFcDEX/s1600/750_8577-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgerB-lyRZmsPVAWmQGDULZqn_vi_8iXoVSNnziU97XiNoJT0pMw1yvDGPS1aGLD4RB9-iGemXqdep8s-kH89mtu3lBIZ7riG4hyphenhyphenpVRebEbzdLZ7XPJYJo0znUNjFPq_mV5ElSFarrFcDEX/s640/750_8577-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gentoo Penguins at Fort Point</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPNENfp_DcRA7vnqKg6bGracEZzNtniXVJZroi7ELHOhoDvhWwrRiO5ZWy1vF7SWEkae-SExPkLCjuHVyZsjmoM6AmkT5aLLo5lnx2I0bUqGUaQRptUAE_zOYkTNEgra2voPI13q4K67tD/s1600/610_6678.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPNENfp_DcRA7vnqKg6bGracEZzNtniXVJZroi7ELHOhoDvhWwrRiO5ZWy1vF7SWEkae-SExPkLCjuHVyZsjmoM6AmkT5aLLo5lnx2I0bUqGUaQRptUAE_zOYkTNEgra2voPI13q4K67tD/s640/610_6678.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just off Cuvehrville Island</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYhFrj5PzBczeRA3K_g12qqIJI77LRExTxuJCH3H707_ysMfiyLnMhjBep86HBPIMEtbCPWG1RPproakmfYbMIHOcqO-AK2zEerdk8EqU7Uf32NL-OzV1qoPut_UJQ8MXXnsr3d3IosFOn/s1600/750_7407.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYhFrj5PzBczeRA3K_g12qqIJI77LRExTxuJCH3H707_ysMfiyLnMhjBep86HBPIMEtbCPWG1RPproakmfYbMIHOcqO-AK2zEerdk8EqU7Uf32NL-OzV1qoPut_UJQ8MXXnsr3d3IosFOn/s640/750_7407.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue-Eyed Shags at Paradise Bay</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAa0pFWfOjWr9yhu-EBm9xehLkbpkepgWDNXH6JUymt491-QBRPhUR1BcvrcY6pOL_ZtfgSrg1fukOf-jUC6cUQJ6TxWuKiZSck5MNKNPXGWJLaYuSl34VUTAvlDkWPWVCkVHbwKiu-G-g/s1600/750_0356.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAa0pFWfOjWr9yhu-EBm9xehLkbpkepgWDNXH6JUymt491-QBRPhUR1BcvrcY6pOL_ZtfgSrg1fukOf-jUC6cUQJ6TxWuKiZSck5MNKNPXGWJLaYuSl34VUTAvlDkWPWVCkVHbwKiu-G-g/s640/750_0356.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Giant Petrel - Antarctic Sound</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgE9lKf7h3z0jzPybJm_CusLk2xoc6uk9_lTHb_-FrTfSH7ys6qnX4nFhJlCLnrWoy2r2qKxXtR-OGmi20dRRxa9a6_SXAZpPaUlE_1prohagHYg7Lm24Taedb6DrxfUPuKLiTW3ZTXg1x/s640/610_7029.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fort Point - A beautiful day at a beautiful place!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtcBwDbNowcKMa9hQr3Mo9Xf9kGEs5JvuJh9Xs2yJn7mYP0F5DQXxYfDonq1S-VrtGTXwcPnK9YIGb6DGSuQXYsnBggjGWa5mvLJsEpxdbL6pB8x3v7co9gM9DnYQWigrMw9fH6ggqqTcD/s640/750_8513.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gentoo chick at Fort Point</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNKECG2UXnGHtMpmDNPEhHtsMOOFhX5kulrXsdDk5gbQPUARv9isQB09UCOG6QNc1lfjjAVpCpMVwHT4X61qQJ6pPRpIbSLi4l_3fCEuZP9k8PK4KeEGO_esO6CPaJ-v03fk6tx_fYbxEt/s1600/750_8622-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNKECG2UXnGHtMpmDNPEhHtsMOOFhX5kulrXsdDk5gbQPUARv9isQB09UCOG6QNc1lfjjAVpCpMVwHT4X61qQJ6pPRpIbSLi4l_3fCEuZP9k8PK4KeEGO_esO6CPaJ-v03fk6tx_fYbxEt/s640/750_8622-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feeding time at Fort Point</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih0g0X7r99g5fF7M4ObJMs7v82bgrhzrucfMnGqnlZ2Ml_NzkgPmAUIRVApYPVUKTOE3YD0vPCuwB0mKk260fkoaHahkakwcYI2h8KVXFEPB9Bqd_WIhE4PuxgSHX6PpxKmTyrVvIMU2i2/s1600/750_0434.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih0g0X7r99g5fF7M4ObJMs7v82bgrhzrucfMnGqnlZ2Ml_NzkgPmAUIRVApYPVUKTOE3YD0vPCuwB0mKk260fkoaHahkakwcYI2h8KVXFEPB9Bqd_WIhE4PuxgSHX6PpxKmTyrVvIMU2i2/s640/750_0434.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Antarctic Sound</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_XTk98H59Ni9X9wq4IT_QEumilhrEFw0-MSppPrrdEWkQ7Kgy_9M-GlP_N2ZJ0wFf2Nn0kiB4OBbBceAshDFvuG5n3sSVii6FF4NZsuaJUrgyWpHY7fH09pldm7H5OVQBME7loNX384T3/s640/750_0666.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Albatross on New Island, Falklands</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoyJzNN31Hij52QuRx2nSSYGgfoVzd10E6CZKjnEfY5v5YAZaJ3dUNx5sR-tQdOHQ08pDqLCnwU609aG01TqVa9Wn2JrAXq8Xrfmz4dgs6BXQu7uHOlSC6Sa2o7vNIlHc59IvRH3sE9CQh/s1600/610_6763.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoyJzNN31Hij52QuRx2nSSYGgfoVzd10E6CZKjnEfY5v5YAZaJ3dUNx5sR-tQdOHQ08pDqLCnwU609aG01TqVa9Wn2JrAXq8Xrfmz4dgs6BXQu7uHOlSC6Sa2o7vNIlHc59IvRH3sE9CQh/s640/610_6763.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was my campsite at Leith Cove</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">King Penguins on Westpoint Island, Falklands</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Near Gourdin Islands</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rock Hopper Penguins on Westpoint Island, Falklands</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby Gentoo talking back to it's dad at Brown Bluff </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Year's Eve at about 11:00 p.m. Antarctic Sound</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adelie Penguins </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chinstrap Penguin sleeping</td></tr>
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<br />Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-80397290748841464162016-10-20T20:18:00.000-06:002016-10-20T20:18:06.626-06:00Iceland<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's about time I posted a few photos from Iceland. I need to write a little about the trip sometime. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzy9QmKS9_VTj0sqJckwiN-du4C1yL5bqaqLnFWHlyvWzzcRrIcHQqAP5qGBocTNYybneooTFp7bbeRx7WY3nWw3iy0ab5yrZj10Uyl0j8px3W2MvlVnBCn3HFeCg6tAw8XCSzqe0ZApAW/s1600/DSC_1469.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzy9QmKS9_VTj0sqJckwiN-du4C1yL5bqaqLnFWHlyvWzzcRrIcHQqAP5qGBocTNYybneooTFp7bbeRx7WY3nWw3iy0ab5yrZj10Uyl0j8px3W2MvlVnBCn3HFeCg6tAw8XCSzqe0ZApAW/s640/DSC_1469.jpg" width="498" /></a></div>
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<br />Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-13320323390258459192016-03-30T20:08:00.000-06:002016-03-30T20:08:56.982-06:00Death Valley<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A few quick edits from my latest trip to Death Valley</span></div>
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<br />Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-77149202353857677312016-02-27T11:18:00.000-07:002016-02-28T09:45:52.325-07:00Singer Songwriter<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When I was younger I never had crushes on TV or movie stars. Still don’t. Just now for this post I tried to think of the name of any TV or movie star I thought was attractive. I could not think of any. That might say more about my memory or the fact I am terrible with names but I think it’s because I have never found a TV or movie star attractive enough to bother to remember their name. If asked while watching a movie if I find the actress good looking or not I’m sure there are plenty I would answer “yes she’s good looking.” But I view the characters in movies as fake and therefore I don’t find them attractive. Although they might be good looking, I can tell nothing about who they really are by watching their movies. Just not attracted to make-believe characters. To find someone attractive I need to know something about them. Simply being good looking will not do. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVw_gCm1kDVfkX36QPD4zL3JeimXuX5nZqeMTmPq7v71T9hQYx5_LxARtW4H_BZa1kaCnfpXBbKxY_P4bWzuZJ-SYrlMTj2EE75Pxmv4SjmoFI3UXoNUGjp4Iug3b-DUYT2R0gervEtW_e/s1600/Pan+WY001-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVw_gCm1kDVfkX36QPD4zL3JeimXuX5nZqeMTmPq7v71T9hQYx5_LxARtW4H_BZa1kaCnfpXBbKxY_P4bWzuZJ-SYrlMTj2EE75Pxmv4SjmoFI3UXoNUGjp4Iug3b-DUYT2R0gervEtW_e/s640/Pan+WY001-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">潘越雲 Performing in a Taipei hotel lounge June 18, 1983.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Singer songwriters are different. I have found many singer songwriters attractive. It must be because they share their stories, feelings and emotions in their songs and it’s like I get to know them a little. I know it’s impossible to really get to know someone through the songs they write and sing but it’s a lot more to go on than someone pretending to be someone else in front of a camera. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I still find many singer songwriters attractive but when I was younger you could go as far as saying I had a crush on one, 潘越雲 (Pan Yue-Yun). When I was 21 I spent the summer in Taiwan. I bought many cheap pirated cassette tapes in hopes of finding some Chinese artists that I liked. To help learn Chinese I would translate the lyrics of songs I particularly liked. It didn’t take long to discover 潘越雲 and she soon became my favorite. She has a beautiful voice and if I remember correctly she wrote many of the songs she sang. I not only bought pirated tapes of all her albums (so I could listen to them on an old cassette player I had in Taiwan), but I also bought official vinyl copies of all her albums so I could listen to good quality recordings when I got back home. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One day while on a bus in Taipei I spotted her name written on a sign outside a hotel. I quickly read the rest of the sign the best I could. She was going to be performing at this hotel the following week. I don’t remember if I got off the bus at the next stop and went to the hotel or just jotted down the name of the hotel and called them later. I do remember inquiring about tickets. I wanted to make sure I got to see her. I was told there were no tickets and she would be performing in the hotel lounge. She was a very popular star in Taiwan. Everyone knew who she was. I often heard her songs playing in stores and I watched her music videos on TV in the evenings. I worried that I would not be able to get into the show. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">On the day of the show I was prepared. I got there very early. I brought along my camera as well as one of her albums and a marker in case I got the opportunity for an autograph. The lounge was not very big and just a few people were there. I took a seat at a bar that wrapped around the piano and stage. I figured I better order something to eat or drink. I got the cheapest thing they had, fried rice and tea. I ate as slow as I possible could to kill time before the performance started. The lounge never did fill up. There were probably no more than a dozen people there when 潘越雲 came out to perform. She sat at the piano just a few feet away but played the guitar. I thought she would be singing songs from her albums but she didn't perform any of her hit songs. Her set consisted of only western songs all sung in English. Her voice was amazing and I appreciated her talents even more when I saw she played guitar too. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When she stood up to walk off stage I held out the album and in Chinese asked her if I could get an autograph. She said yes but but she needed to put her guitar away first. A minute later she came out and sat next to me and asked me something. What I was doing in Taiwan, how did I learn Chinese or something like that. I was not expecting this. I was so nervous and tongue tied. I had no idea what to say. I know we spoke a little. Some in English, some in Chinese. Mostly I remember the thoughts racing through my head “What should I say… what should I do… stop shaking… come on say something… ask her something…ahhh, what should I say!” I’m pretty sure whatever I did say was uninteresting and a bit incoherent. After a few minutes I got the impression she just gave up trying to have a conversation with me. She autographed the album, thanked me for coming to the show and went backstage. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My head was still spinning but I knew I was an idiot. “Why didn’t you say something intelligent? Why couldn’t you ask her a thoughtful question? Why didn’t you just offer to buy her a drink? You're such a fool!” </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju9yg2u70AETuI-E3www_Qd002b45i50jD7WLZ-aS3j0pUYOv2ApWFEXcnBzqglHO4_5bm8g_ehUuShrUWRabtgtxqMsnYw3IdKzShMCTHWWeAEMmVDw0qb8NLQA7A6Sv7Q4-Ms0HhRtY0/s1600/DSC_6421.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju9yg2u70AETuI-E3www_Qd002b45i50jD7WLZ-aS3j0pUYOv2ApWFEXcnBzqglHO4_5bm8g_ehUuShrUWRabtgtxqMsnYw3IdKzShMCTHWWeAEMmVDw0qb8NLQA7A6Sv7Q4-Ms0HhRtY0/s640/DSC_6421.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Autographed album cover</span></td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">She was scheduled to perform at the same hotel later that month as well. On my 22nd birthday I went to see her perform again. It went pretty much like the first show except I didn’t bring my camera or an album. There weren’t many people at that show either and I’ve never understood why. I didn’t say anything to her when the show ended. Even after days of thinking about it I still didn’t know what to say to her and I knew I would still be so flustered nothing would come out right no matter how much I rehearsed it. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As I was leaving the hotel a bellboy stopped me near the front door and started talking to me. Just then 潘越雲 walked by escorted by two men who looked like body guards. She slowed, looked over her shoulder, caught my eye and said “再見” (see you later). </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My knees buckled. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The bellboy was impressed. “You know her!” </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I watched her walk out, get into a waiting car and disappear in to the night. </span></span><br />
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Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-4265252920849308892016-01-12T17:25:00.000-07:002016-01-12T17:25:23.675-07:00Rapa Nui<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">With the fantastic native name of Rapa Nui, I don't know why anyone would call it Easter Island.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinS7paIqalYKWEWcpqugGTITTYewBEWrPaGTA4-j47lZB0zMcAdJKrSgKaXIKTU3bugRs3khL1VfFX8wPP10esWDpriQRR1f8dfqkkZxDCEr0-UCrXjcr1j8Ny8mKA22n-fB1Cqv55QAqo/s1600/610_0863.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinS7paIqalYKWEWcpqugGTITTYewBEWrPaGTA4-j47lZB0zMcAdJKrSgKaXIKTU3bugRs3khL1VfFX8wPP10esWDpriQRR1f8dfqkkZxDCEr0-UCrXjcr1j8Ny8mKA22n-fB1Cqv55QAqo/s640/610_0863.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Ahu Tongariki at Sunrise</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKGv3z-BgFQgnC1jH35IYA5syCQZAYRcqO79pdh58BzOi2cULGEdJqDqKUV0YktBsI1IFrztBe3z0InV5oRdj7-jIqXu7rsSGvYHbdKE96lCSojyektm-ROBHMAe3KPAImK0ivrrCjDr5O/s1600/DSC_0885.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKGv3z-BgFQgnC1jH35IYA5syCQZAYRcqO79pdh58BzOi2cULGEdJqDqKUV0YktBsI1IFrztBe3z0InV5oRdj7-jIqXu7rsSGvYHbdKE96lCSojyektm-ROBHMAe3KPAImK0ivrrCjDr5O/s640/DSC_0885.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Rano Raraku</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ__u80qAaEL6ZBb2bcAti9iT1p0heGI03YgRj5A4Hlcb0rXPdlfKgn4RRRrraTehibjUdIZypn-lyAez41y6pyJUWpjzAxF0n3p7OKLh4TIayrf9v1tjDMSXYCzpJh0vRU61BbU8_e4kY/s1600/610_0523.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ__u80qAaEL6ZBb2bcAti9iT1p0heGI03YgRj5A4Hlcb0rXPdlfKgn4RRRrraTehibjUdIZypn-lyAez41y6pyJUWpjzAxF0n3p7OKLh4TIayrf9v1tjDMSXYCzpJh0vRU61BbU8_e4kY/s640/610_0523.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ranu Kao</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdZGUg5ijALJ1PvlnYNK_h8YKNPA8MWk-bs76u_xGLIe6oI599ClsmnhfXKgRQPAoava9eGLS8K8VXan0VrFkJhCHm00blFL0GC3dC2I8-i2i4jRlAHbdgsyOP0Z9BcxHaj8nVyK5lk2sm/s1600/610_0168.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdZGUg5ijALJ1PvlnYNK_h8YKNPA8MWk-bs76u_xGLIe6oI599ClsmnhfXKgRQPAoava9eGLS8K8VXan0VrFkJhCHm00blFL0GC3dC2I8-i2i4jRlAHbdgsyOP0Z9BcxHaj8nVyK5lk2sm/s640/610_0168.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Most of the Moai and Ahu look like this now.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin6JJtp5dEO1Kr_fouR556wcITlCBsusA4qkIYIWOhx0aIU8-8WUyN_nBqVdIja_rr5Z5eAZaJkKlI866BYtHpQWJT6d_fBbJvYKo298iaGvaGtlRqzqPR1MXXl59tXN9FKCJkAcah9jMg/s1600/610_1018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin6JJtp5dEO1Kr_fouR556wcITlCBsusA4qkIYIWOhx0aIU8-8WUyN_nBqVdIja_rr5Z5eAZaJkKlI866BYtHpQWJT6d_fBbJvYKo298iaGvaGtlRqzqPR1MXXl59tXN9FKCJkAcah9jMg/s640/610_1018.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: center;"> Ahu Tongariki as seen from Rano Raraku.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5PtrFRMXDqlKIwPcL2eIFrjqSSSCuU9GHh-YDAJjKvWj21hQGsMeb19JNGnF9HJ7BpjGYS5YuocnkmnrRla4A4U4n34sLnCFqHFQQ1RI0TWmGcCaJtb-dceRdeGnjaNfyLvW4_dx1Xlk7/s1600/610_1512.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5PtrFRMXDqlKIwPcL2eIFrjqSSSCuU9GHh-YDAJjKvWj21hQGsMeb19JNGnF9HJ7BpjGYS5YuocnkmnrRla4A4U4n34sLnCFqHFQQ1RI0TWmGcCaJtb-dceRdeGnjaNfyLvW4_dx1Xlk7/s640/610_1512.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> The remains of one of the roads or tracks used to move the moai.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmFekbtZB2_PP4EIFslMUb4aqmZrX1oS2EKB9FdJeY8aqS25DN7ZhHtXGv8AxnMSm_SJikP_hio84OaswWkJ6ZT4h9fuLtRRU4SB_LhiS7s-D1ns8N-wBNMXxHfHbgQ6u15Z427XyHgmtg/s1600/DSC_1004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmFekbtZB2_PP4EIFslMUb4aqmZrX1oS2EKB9FdJeY8aqS25DN7ZhHtXGv8AxnMSm_SJikP_hio84OaswWkJ6ZT4h9fuLtRRU4SB_LhiS7s-D1ns8N-wBNMXxHfHbgQ6u15Z427XyHgmtg/s640/DSC_1004.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">View from Orongo</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjX38QcKupmVrpZbr8G6Rms2XYqSWdum7JHSSDyDvOAChFZj0a_ZHpZqdIEExJa_jQRl-WVz-yuK3UGnPNovPUTTpK2g39k3FDTELSMLA-y8T24XmaWsg2zg1Mj5Z9tuMRW1jIgLyj3kvs/s1600/DSC_0670.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjX38QcKupmVrpZbr8G6Rms2XYqSWdum7JHSSDyDvOAChFZj0a_ZHpZqdIEExJa_jQRl-WVz-yuK3UGnPNovPUTTpK2g39k3FDTELSMLA-y8T24XmaWsg2zg1Mj5Z9tuMRW1jIgLyj3kvs/s640/DSC_0670.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: center;"> Ahu Tongariki</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ0uu0mlkSvzD5ri5NtEzfdYqNaQ3Z_KvrXhJMkWgcVSHzXABLiTWNib3IZopzaTva0bRqwwuWM89LF2b4w0xMJfSAFoBP07tUfyNQ7p156KUWG8hz7uX-BvSpYH0ONDamSf9YyvnXaej3/s1600/DSC_0607.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ0uu0mlkSvzD5ri5NtEzfdYqNaQ3Z_KvrXhJMkWgcVSHzXABLiTWNib3IZopzaTva0bRqwwuWM89LF2b4w0xMJfSAFoBP07tUfyNQ7p156KUWG8hz7uX-BvSpYH0ONDamSf9YyvnXaej3/s640/DSC_0607.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Many of the moai never made it to their ahu and are left laying all over Rapa Nui.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYArgT6N46AE0b_Li1E5AlXBLCckb6z2dljZvGaMlSR7Bq7Q4aAc5LcExP07bGglQ4lEVxYuGEWLtdvspvzycdfVo1RnRwJ5qPAPDlYfqwv1AXRUFA2oy-wLj5vsQQC9VBQkHCwQ8tqr4n/s1600/DSC_0818.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYArgT6N46AE0b_Li1E5AlXBLCckb6z2dljZvGaMlSR7Bq7Q4aAc5LcExP07bGglQ4lEVxYuGEWLtdvspvzycdfVo1RnRwJ5qPAPDlYfqwv1AXRUFA2oy-wLj5vsQQC9VBQkHCwQ8tqr4n/s640/DSC_0818.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Rano Raraku - the "Factory" or "Nursery" where the moai were carved.</span></div>
Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-12380347659425649822016-01-04T20:50:00.000-07:002016-01-04T20:50:38.376-07:00Torres del Paine NP, Chile<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF-d_t7lU8I9UoW3_KRV6P9noFuLaMSNzYxmVTERRtiURd01TIninyoVcV-VaRIjlLsUCmnbGc1LhP3gxZzhsHGLD5FVH4gtjWeU5hE7r1zQ856aV7ChtkUY7tuFEiOCYy0kkg2b_nPP8c/s1600/610_8299.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF-d_t7lU8I9UoW3_KRV6P9noFuLaMSNzYxmVTERRtiURd01TIninyoVcV-VaRIjlLsUCmnbGc1LhP3gxZzhsHGLD5FVH4gtjWeU5hE7r1zQ856aV7ChtkUY7tuFEiOCYy0kkg2b_nPP8c/s640/610_8299.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here are a few photos of Torres del Paine National Park in Chile.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm3KDqykX-NVoky7PWPBxB2CUfQOR-Ur5CFk-kUWBmVCI1H1EUO7PUApFJvbfR_LiHCu0dBaTjY2uL1ftnP2uB11LYk1WliclvYxVWRi_swla3hn-HmPj8jElVEmMLtghWg9gjvCDC4c0D/s1600/610_8536.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm3KDqykX-NVoky7PWPBxB2CUfQOR-Ur5CFk-kUWBmVCI1H1EUO7PUApFJvbfR_LiHCu0dBaTjY2uL1ftnP2uB11LYk1WliclvYxVWRi_swla3hn-HmPj8jElVEmMLtghWg9gjvCDC4c0D/s640/610_8536.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Los Cuernos del Paine from Lake Grey</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvNLTUdACxpHoO9vnQ_sJqia93dvpTGafBUKhtNO1K89T1OYJjE1uC3JgTmICoJeKcuA_ZQCfkp3p03u2OUG4I52J8EyDkmX3zbY_Y2eEjJ5-f_FJoZ6or9Q9RJhnVE4x1-fApa54wk8Up/s1600/610_8773.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvNLTUdACxpHoO9vnQ_sJqia93dvpTGafBUKhtNO1K89T1OYJjE1uC3JgTmICoJeKcuA_ZQCfkp3p03u2OUG4I52J8EyDkmX3zbY_Y2eEjJ5-f_FJoZ6or9Q9RJhnVE4x1-fApa54wk8Up/s640/610_8773.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Glacier Grey</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0wIl1i8XBH_og0uuCSdVsSWG2Bd1o2UHfYSEH-zqUUXPaPvRMHBENYTlVbDxskL2SJwORFUQ2FoOV35H5M01P4TYrJBlOInJGF8hsYqd1xPgSNKLZK22MDmPqsNjZGJBj6HkI90PGz3Vg/s1600/610_8140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0wIl1i8XBH_og0uuCSdVsSWG2Bd1o2UHfYSEH-zqUUXPaPvRMHBENYTlVbDxskL2SJwORFUQ2FoOV35H5M01P4TYrJBlOInJGF8hsYqd1xPgSNKLZK22MDmPqsNjZGJBj6HkI90PGz3Vg/s640/610_8140.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Morning view of Torres del Paine from EcoCamp</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On the trail to the towers base</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3AkP1-EiRvE2NSkDcTH0KHWf5t2l7NiAZRDeJk44lrYeyR9v0kK0tA8SyQUo9zC0sLeIAnqXzlaA1PoM8ZoW0EfytwwCPqZ6j1vS466UccZv87dM-XicgAL9F_UZg3E3To6gnb-M940ju/s1600/610_8256.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3AkP1-EiRvE2NSkDcTH0KHWf5t2l7NiAZRDeJk44lrYeyR9v0kK0tA8SyQUo9zC0sLeIAnqXzlaA1PoM8ZoW0EfytwwCPqZ6j1vS466UccZv87dM-XicgAL9F_UZg3E3To6gnb-M940ju/s640/610_8256.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was foggy and snowing when we got to the base of the towers. We couldn't see the towers. After eating lunch we were wet and cold and the group decided to head back. As we packed up it began to clear a little. I waited around as the others headed down the trail. It did clear up and soon the others were back with me taking pictures. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I enjoyed everything about <span style="text-align: center;">Torres del Paine and would love to go back. However what I enjoyed most was the people I met at EcoCamp. I usually don't join tours or groups when traveling but I might start doing it more often. I met awesome people from around the world. I wish all the people I met at EcoCamp were my neighbors. I do like to think of them as neighbors. Just wish we could all get to get together for dinner again. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">EcoCamp</span></div>
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Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-28324255753655832962015-12-28T19:45:00.002-07:002023-01-11T14:40:41.436-07:00Empanadas and Airport Coaching<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">This seems like an unlikely photo to post especially as the first photo of my recent trip to Chile and Argentina. I took this photo to remind me of the kind people who help me while traveling. I know most of the people I meet are in the tourism industry so it’s their job to help visitors. But I still appreciate it very much. I can’t believe how many of them say “Sorry my English is not very good.” I should be the one apologizing for visiting their country when I don’t know how to say much more than hola, gracias and el baño por favor. Still it seems many of them go beyond what is expected. I went into a little coffee shop in Puerto Natales with a few hours before the next bus to Punta Arenas. I didn’t have many options as it was just after 3:00 p.m. and most of the restaurants were closed. I looked over the pastries and menu on the wall the best I could before sitting down. I was hoping for an empanada but didn’t see any. I asked the young man behind the counter if they had any empanadas. He said no. I sat down anyways and ordered a cup of coffee. Shortly after I sat down the young man brought me this note directing me to a bakery that had empanadas. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Later in my travels I was helped out quite a bit at the airport in Santiago. One guy literally went the extra mile for me (or at least a 100 meters or so). I wrote this the next morning (December 11, 2015) at the airport in Bogota.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">My flight from Rapa Nui to Santiago was delayed about 2 1/2 hours. That left me with less than 1 hour to make an international connection to Bogota. When the plane landed in Santiago at 12:40 a.m. I impatiently waited to get off. No one else seemed to be in a hurry. When I got out of the plane everyone was meandering down the exit hallways and it was nearly impossible to pass anyone because I was carrying two backpacks (together weighing around 40 pounds), one over each shoulder making me twice as wide as usual. Fortunately I had no checked bags. As the hallways widened I raced passed everyone, taking stairs where possible and looking for signs leading to departures. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">I ended up at the baggage claim and didn’t see a clearly marked exit. There was no one to follow because everyone was just getting there and the luggage had not started to come out. No one was leaving. I saw a lady at a help desk. I went over and she was on the phone. I waited a few minutes for her to finish then asked where to go for Avianca check-in. She said to go outside then up to the third floor and motioned towards some doors. I walked to the doors and outside as quickly as I could. When I got outside I found myself on the tarmac underneath airplanes. No one else around. I tried to go back in but the doors were locked. I walked to my right but there was a high chain link fence with barbed wire on the top. I went the other way. It looked like another baggage claim area but no one was there and those doors were locked too. I went back and began knocking on the doors I came out of to see if anyone would let me in. The people waiting for bags just looked at me as if I were a security threat. Finally the lady that gave me directions saw me and came over to let me in. She said “I told you to go outside” and pointed to a hairpin turn at the entrance of the baggage claim that was still in the building and definitely wasn't “outside.” But I didn’t have time to explain to her what “outside” meant to me. I realized she just meant outside the baggage claim area anyways. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">I thanked her and ran off through the crowd of people waiting for arriving passengers many holding signs with names on them. A number of men jumped in front of me one after another “Taxi?” I pushed my way through the crowd to the stairs and ran up to the third floor. I didn’t have time to search for the Avianca counter and spotted an information booth. The lady told me to go to counters 8 thru 15 at the other end of the corridor. I walked as quickly as I could through the crowds. My backpacks bumping into people about every other step. “Sorry.” “Excuse me.” I really need to learn more Spanish. When I got to counters 8-15 I saw the Avianca signs and went straight to the counters through the first class lane. There was no one at the counters. I walked up and down passed counters 8 to 15. Each one had a closed sign posted. I looked around for anyone who might work for Avianca but didn’t see anyone. I had no idea what to do. I looked around for another help booth. I didn’t see one but did see check-in kiosks. I began the process. Selected English. Reservation number? I reached for my phone and opened the file with my reservation number and typed it in. My flight info came up on the screen. Great! Then I pressed "Next" and got the message “This flight is closed.” No! I tried it again scanning my passport this time knowing it wouldn’t change anything but I didn’t know what else to do. I forgot to select English so the message was in Spanish. I tried scanning my passport again after selecting English. My flight info came up again. Next. “This flight is closed.” </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Not knowing what to do I ran back to the other end of the corridor to the information booth. The attendant was busy going through a backpack with a security guard. She was spraying dirty shoes and clothes with something. The guard said something to me that I felt meant “What do you need.” I started to speak. He interrupted “English” and pointed to the attendant. After a few more sprays she turned to me. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">"I need a boarding pass for Avianca but no one is at the counters."</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">She said “Counters 8-15” and pointed to the other end of the corridor. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">“No one is at the counters, they are closed.” </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">“Just go to the gate.” </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">“But I don’t have a boarding pass.” </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">“It doesn’t matter. Go to the gate. Hurry.” </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">I jogged to the other end of the corridor dodging people standing around and whacking a few with my backpacks. I didn’t know where to go but at the far end I notice a sign that said international departures. A man at the doorway asked for my boarding pass. I said I didn’t have one and showed him my reservation information on my phone. He waved me on and said “Run.” </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">I ran to the only customs desk with someone there. There were no lines. No one else was in the room. The man asked me for my boarding pass and passport. I handed him my passport and said I don’t have a boarding pass while showing him the reservation info on my phone. He stamped my passport and said “Run.” I asked which way and he pointed to my left. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">I ran down a hallway and came to a security screening area. At first it looked like no one was there. I saw a few people standing by the last x-ray machine. As I was racing through the empty maze some guy stopped me and said something in Spanish and pointed behind me indicating I did something wrong. I looked back but saw nothing. I started forward again. He raised his voice and repeated what he had said and pointed behind me. I looked back but couldn’t figure out what he was pointing at. I gave him a confused gesture. A man at the x-ray machine waved to me to come over so I just ran passed the man and he didn’t say anything else. I threw my packs on the conveyor. At the exit side of the machine a guy asked me for my boarding pass. I told him “I don’t have one.” He grabbed my passport and asked which airline. “Avianca.” He then asked my name. I told him and he repeated it into a radio. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">He said “Gate 11, you’ve got to run.” </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">“I will but I don’t know where gate 11 is.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">“I’ll go with you, run!” </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">We ran down a zigzag walkway passed duty free shops and restaurants. While we were running he asked me my name 2 or 3 more times. Each time I told him and he repeated it into his radio. Then he asked what my final destination was. I said between breaths “Salt Lake City, USA.” We ran passed gate 11A and onto a gate that I could see no sign as to what gate it was. Two attendances were standing by a small counter. It was very dark almost all the lights in that area were turned off. The guy running with me handed one attendant my passport. I didn’t even realize I didn’t have it. The attendant asked for my boarding pass. “I don’t have one.” They quickly printed the boarding passes for my next 3 flights. Handing them to me along with my passport he says “Run to the airplane.” I ran down 4 ramps to the plane and at the door a man asks for my boarding pass. “Yes, I have that!” As I walk to the back of the plane breathing and sweating like I had just run 400 meters with 40 pounds on my back a flight attendant checked my boarding pass. There was a problem, my seat was already taken. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">She pointed to an isle seat with no one sitting next to it and asks “Will that seat do?” </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">“Yes.” </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">“Would you like a glass of water?” </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">“Yes. Gracias.”</span></span></div>
Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-76823086842583604262015-04-14T20:39:00.003-06:002021-04-06T14:55:02.004-06:00The Transitive Property of Mistaken Twins<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaFrpkyvY7z5UsvAEgJk85icR4DlJQEDKafFYdtKJ2eFZ-Ykun6f2ne2rRvcr8C7oTsZhKtsGfhd-DXaryJybEULC5MHZS2nL9kGv8gOV9ua-xpTjDhc7_CYz2hONi_rbSMue4Hr_GF5xO/s1600/9549088000_ef047a3794_o-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaFrpkyvY7z5UsvAEgJk85icR4DlJQEDKafFYdtKJ2eFZ-Ykun6f2ne2rRvcr8C7oTsZhKtsGfhd-DXaryJybEULC5MHZS2nL9kGv8gOV9ua-xpTjDhc7_CYz2hONi_rbSMue4Hr_GF5xO/s1600/9549088000_ef047a3794_o-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">In high school many people thought my best friend Charlie and I were twins. We got a kick out of this but couldn’t understand why people we went to school with would think we were twins. We were the same height, had the same build and had many of the same clothes. We both had long hair and played guitar and got good grades but that’s about where the similarities ended. Charlie had dark brown hair and mine was blonde. Everyone liked Charlie especially the girls and why not, he was good looking, always happy, smiling, fun to be around and talked to everyone (all of that is still true). Most people didn’t know who I was. I was too serious, didn’t smile much and didn’t talk to many people. I was simply known as that kid who hangs out with Charlie. A few girls did talk to me but just to get info about Charlie and they hoped I would let him know that they liked him. The girls I went out with all really liked Charlie and went on dates with me just to be close to Charlie and to keep track of him because we often went on double dates. Now I’m not feeling sorry for myself, just pointing out that we were different in many ways. We thought it was absurd that anyone could mistake us for twins. </span></div>
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">After high school Charlie went to Taiwan on a church mission. I had to take a second language in college so I picked Chinese because Charlie was learning Chinese and I thought it would be fun to speak the same second language as my best friend. In one of Charlie’s letters he told me about another missionary from England who’s Chinese name was Sung. Many people in Taiwan mistook him and Elder Sung as twins. Charlie thought it was strange that in high school the two of us were mistaken for twins when we didn’t look alike and in Taiwan there was a bloke from England that was being mistaken for his twin. </span></div>
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">I enjoyed Chinese classes so much that I continued to study Chinese all through college and ended up with a second major in Asian Studies. Anyways, 2 or 3 years after Charlie returned from Taiwan I was spending the summer in Taiwan. One afternoon I was at a beach near Danshui northwest of Taipei. I was wandering around looking for shells when a group of girls came running up to me yelling “Elder Sung! Elder Sung! Hello Elder Sung!” I couldn’t believe it. I never met Elder Sung but I knew exactly who they were talking about. I explained to the excited group of girls that I wasn’t who they thought I was but rather I was a friend of Charlie’s (who they also knew). I told them that back home many people thought Charlie and I were twins and in Taiwan many people mistook Charlie and Elder Sung as twins. So if me and Charlie could be mistaken as twins and Charlie and Elder Sung could be mistaken as twins then Elder Sung and I must look like twins too. They agreed. </span></div>
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Transitive Property of Equality: If a = b and b = c, then a = c.</span></div>
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">I don’t see it but Charlie and I must look like twins. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV1-s-8B_Ybs7jG7l4bTfwRWLyzhgU3HAFx6IVdYV4oc7n89VKHHLR34TUcW7HtMMQ-evh_vpBAvy46Wis5WAaPNEXwE8wjab0EsM7uHQfx7CnkJh6Vnqad9hXFXs41lOGcHPatVYm7MWZ/s1600/16254491029_2c49989fcd_o-2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV1-s-8B_Ybs7jG7l4bTfwRWLyzhgU3HAFx6IVdYV4oc7n89VKHHLR34TUcW7HtMMQ-evh_vpBAvy46Wis5WAaPNEXwE8wjab0EsM7uHQfx7CnkJh6Vnqad9hXFXs41lOGcHPatVYm7MWZ/s1600/16254491029_2c49989fcd_o-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seems like the wind has been blowing every time Charlie and I get our picture taken together lately. <br />
Maybe I should just grow my hair long again. </td></tr>
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Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-70069676119137553662014-10-11T23:59:00.000-06:002014-10-12T11:13:40.264-06:00Blue Boobies<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I really enjoyed watching and photographing Blue-Footed Boobies </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">during my recent trip to the Galapagos Islands.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The males have smaller pupils than the females.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Boobies feeding in the ocean. I love to watch them dive into the water like missiles. The video below shows clips of them feeding. Unfortunately, I had just gotten on a boat and my camera gear was in a dry bag. I rushed to get it out and was in a hurry to get video and stills and didn't do a very good job of either. </span></span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/uYHAzqni17M?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A newly hatched baby booby.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic2ssbSv3Pbb2lKoMBfvVT81W9Sa6D04civlmSTkrqlL49OquJ7DQwnzvzGzPGyh__l5F7JdbfOGLK-dmW_XPRE5lLkPzL9sPmSPK-saNyltAMIa3EHNi9N7hL1i7s50f8O90Rm8m-TH6G/s1600/610_3137.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic2ssbSv3Pbb2lKoMBfvVT81W9Sa6D04civlmSTkrqlL49OquJ7DQwnzvzGzPGyh__l5F7JdbfOGLK-dmW_XPRE5lLkPzL9sPmSPK-saNyltAMIa3EHNi9N7hL1i7s50f8O90Rm8m-TH6G/s1600/610_3137.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> A male (foreground) trying to impress a female.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Pedu2URKGjQp8Acl8_LZ6-UDYR6JthtKMFM-A8JEh9RN4Zplv2cjsX3yNUuFFQnPdv0kHxZF8w5j1H4Dv1AoP2aVf-zZDaw44phwf0pOYihprctAI6mGu2GHbQHM9OgGci3dDM_DbcqV/s1600/610_4791.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Pedu2URKGjQp8Acl8_LZ6-UDYR6JthtKMFM-A8JEh9RN4Zplv2cjsX3yNUuFFQnPdv0kHxZF8w5j1H4Dv1AoP2aVf-zZDaw44phwf0pOYihprctAI6mGu2GHbQHM9OgGci3dDM_DbcqV/s1600/610_4791.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ro-z0oU-uSbMZRpUGkeIivBN-iQ70iItWkNMETGKFHZ4_0buSJYlmSAe66jCh4cMvMPYlRauS09T9U-LrF3DvZD8GGvELnZnV6cDiGVwWYJqI5mKF8XpMPHQ8yK1gvWyc4_EX4fqU-FK/s1600/610_4566.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ro-z0oU-uSbMZRpUGkeIivBN-iQ70iItWkNMETGKFHZ4_0buSJYlmSAe66jCh4cMvMPYlRauS09T9U-LrF3DvZD8GGvELnZnV6cDiGVwWYJqI5mKF8XpMPHQ8yK1gvWyc4_EX4fqU-FK/s1600/610_4566.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In case you didn't notice, these boobies live in a very unique place.</span></div>
Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-69953529694440879782014-09-13T21:52:00.000-06:002014-09-13T21:52:37.811-06:00Aurora Watch<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I went up to what is becoming my favorite lake to watch for the aurora borealis. I knew there was only a few hours of darkness before the moon would rise and I thought it would be time to head home once the moon came up. I was wrong about going home when the moon rose and my favorite photo of the night was a mistake. I forgot to tighten the ball head once and loved what happened. I tried to duplicate the effect on purpose but the original mistake was the best. </span><br />
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<br />Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-41401487037937770462014-07-27T17:08:00.002-06:002014-07-27T17:08:39.477-06:00Uinta Morning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0yVAzWMX3L149RIFM5p-zAjNEskU8x9NY5U2KJ9nXVosedL17-72L4peYyZ0qsHIlVc2t8zcxNIeehyphenhyphenuT8-DC9ns_fk8l9CRaoetOHkamkZ28XehMfshSl35Mq-M_cpDzjosNSfZUHYlG/s1600/610_1048.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0yVAzWMX3L149RIFM5p-zAjNEskU8x9NY5U2KJ9nXVosedL17-72L4peYyZ0qsHIlVc2t8zcxNIeehyphenhyphenuT8-DC9ns_fk8l9CRaoetOHkamkZ28XehMfshSl35Mq-M_cpDzjosNSfZUHYlG/s1600/610_1048.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I woke up at 3:45 a.m. to drive high up into the Unita Mountains for sunrise. There are a number of fires burning around the state and I thought there would be smoke in the sky giving more color to the sunrise (there have been some interesting sunsets due to the smoke). There wasn't any noticeable smoke but it was still a beautiful morning. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yes, this photo is displayed upside-down. </span></td></tr>
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Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-89725992033142322712014-07-20T21:16:00.001-06:002014-07-20T21:16:43.819-06:00Albion Basin<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/cqj7xFQALSc?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-71275427841794889902014-05-26T22:35:00.000-06:002014-05-26T22:35:00.838-06:00Arches Night & Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoGDZLgumVOHq3NbtAdY639fE41LtOUXyEDtLslYFtR6PWb-Oxj1icqJd359Nnlirs78EBoCj6V3U2M-G1hvZuvdiTOlkNji9V8eiNemRkF9Ly1z61CdehR153KV8On_Pf-TiENdUjh8G_/s1600/610_0029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoGDZLgumVOHq3NbtAdY639fE41LtOUXyEDtLslYFtR6PWb-Oxj1icqJd359Nnlirs78EBoCj6V3U2M-G1hvZuvdiTOlkNji9V8eiNemRkF9Ly1z61CdehR153KV8On_Pf-TiENdUjh8G_/s1600/610_0029.jpg" height="427" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There was a heavy thunder storm around Arches National Park on May 23. I got there about the time the sun set. I wish I had more time (light) to photograph the water. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The brightest Camelopardalid meteor I was able to photograph was during one of my test exposures. I saw a few but not where I had my camera pointed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There was evidence of flooding all through the park the next morning and Delicate Arch was closed due to flooding. I was on the road when the storm hit. It was pretty heavy rain for this area. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The long exposure not only gave the clouds a little motion effect it also removed the two people playing around in the arch (Photoshop not needed). </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq198kaBhCyKDJLS8GY-TOZfjCNw0Rm8rPYMvDAzjAf_njH6l05Cde7Kh1h7NFXUtgzFPe6XxxQUic6g-edIVedYLSPGiJ56gxaSyO6acC59hauLFx9L3LDiO4o4y-KbTLRVZcUhbz9I0v/s1600/610_0359.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq198kaBhCyKDJLS8GY-TOZfjCNw0Rm8rPYMvDAzjAf_njH6l05Cde7Kh1h7NFXUtgzFPe6XxxQUic6g-edIVedYLSPGiJ56gxaSyO6acC59hauLFx9L3LDiO4o4y-KbTLRVZcUhbz9I0v/s1600/610_0359.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When I was young I tried to catch every lizard I saw. Now I just photograph them. The lizards seem to like me much more now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Though there was a big storm just before sunset, the sky cleared up before midnight. There was a canyon wren nearby singing the whole time (till 2:30 a.m.) and toads were out calling after the rain. It was a beautiful night in the desert. </span></div>
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<br />Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-86391609341534087852014-05-01T22:36:00.000-06:002014-05-01T22:36:07.515-06:00Sand in Black & White<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-74183310829352658162014-04-25T22:41:00.000-06:002014-04-26T13:51:12.737-06:00Life in the Sand<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUbLdFh10adHCn6Rrbx0t74KSFTCq1fQ-lR5weY5_sIlDonXRMoB84Af17TTMQb_YqJodsw9wb5rxWBrkzac4O_homauPq2GdwhVc0tolyJO6aKIp-_DS-7PM_QwnjcYJrgV6vTS9PSDCL/s1600/DSC_3777-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUbLdFh10adHCn6Rrbx0t74KSFTCq1fQ-lR5weY5_sIlDonXRMoB84Af17TTMQb_YqJodsw9wb5rxWBrkzac4O_homauPq2GdwhVc0tolyJO6aKIp-_DS-7PM_QwnjcYJrgV6vTS9PSDCL/s1600/DSC_3777-2.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Desert Horned Lizard</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I like to think I’ve learned how to move around animals in non-threatening ways in order to get close. It probably has more to do with the nature of the animal. Does it naturally hold still, blend in and hope it isn’t seen or does it flee as fast and far as possible. Some hold their ground and defend themselves or bluff with an intimidating display. This horned lizard just didn’t seem to care that I laid down in the sand a few feet away and pointed my camera it's way. Maybe it had seen photographers before. It posed nicely in the light for me. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">A pretty little wasp.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">We’ll meet her again further down. </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I often tell people I would like to study ants in the field. I’m not sure if I could really do that but I would really like to learn more about them and other social insects. They do some amazing things (and I’m not talking about carrying things that weigh more than they do). </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Zebra-Tailed Lizard</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">These lizards saw me first every time. They ran away with their tails curled up off the ground in a C shape. They would usually start running when I was about 10 meters away and they would run for about 20 meters. I only got close to a few. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When you’re near the bottom of the food chain it’s good to be hard to see. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here’s our wasp friend again. Looks like she’s a parasitic wasp.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Just a few more paralyzing stings to get this caterpillar to hold still. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">It's h</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">ard work to carry the caterpillar to the nest. </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The wasp's larvae will develop inside the body of this paralyzed caterpillar slowly eating it alive. When the larvae pupate they will erupt out of the caterpillar’s body that they have consumed. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgZlOyR78EsiZRmiesuaI4OGTbv3TX1UYEdsGwt3_n5_DV99x2AmZYg1USuVeIMNeZ-XhcCf67rKn-iw9aF1KZRD9LtCdvmU1t1ukO_xl-hbXDsXaDdM5Ayglm1-yV3uGjbmCPzQ7ECst/s1600/DSC_3542.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgZlOyR78EsiZRmiesuaI4OGTbv3TX1UYEdsGwt3_n5_DV99x2AmZYg1USuVeIMNeZ-XhcCf67rKn-iw9aF1KZRD9LtCdvmU1t1ukO_xl-hbXDsXaDdM5Ayglm1-yV3uGjbmCPzQ7ECst/s1600/DSC_3542.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In one large depression in the dunes I heard bees. It took me a few minutes but found a bunch of digger bees. About a month ago I watch an episode of “Life in the Undergrowth” that showed how digger bees are victims of parasitic Blister Beetles. Here is a link to that part of the episode. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=voXO2mARwII" target="_blank">Life in the Undergrowth - Blister Beetles & Digger Bees</a></span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It’s worth watching. It’s a pretty remarkable sequence of events. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjECNfADvjMIfd1y90RWlXKuj3Y82xoYnlKail4uH-CArg0MNKFLYiJGx-mKCsD6giCdRmuOIKTp3RGkNEDrypcZhbIdEK0INBfg-X4Fyt8eaCcjHGhNSW77U3J3_RvBDbJtvRHWeeR2KD3/s1600/DSC_3547.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjECNfADvjMIfd1y90RWlXKuj3Y82xoYnlKail4uH-CArg0MNKFLYiJGx-mKCsD6giCdRmuOIKTp3RGkNEDrypcZhbIdEK0INBfg-X4Fyt8eaCcjHGhNSW77U3J3_RvBDbJtvRHWeeR2KD3/s1600/DSC_3547.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I believe the digger bees are responsible for these tracks in my previous post. Were they searching for an existing tunnel that was covered up with the sand or looking for a good place to start a new one? Or something else? </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here’s a video I took of the digger bees. Turn up the sound to hear them buzzing around. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWlUNPxNzW9LMO0SCv3uNkSbFlzdiONS-zRZvBQtKU_LjdhWuEYIYzjgwewYCg01MN5Qwzm25iu5lSm-_m3vN4RlIrjQAyMpjoNVQowb5kMASM3jYHHsH0BfVElSjoSY4qN91ixIkpRGQw/s1600/DSC_3745.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWlUNPxNzW9LMO0SCv3uNkSbFlzdiONS-zRZvBQtKU_LjdhWuEYIYzjgwewYCg01MN5Qwzm25iu5lSm-_m3vN4RlIrjQAyMpjoNVQowb5kMASM3jYHHsH0BfVElSjoSY4qN91ixIkpRGQw/s1600/DSC_3745.jpg" height="207" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">When I was growing up in Southern California I used to plant tomatoes every year so I could attract a similar type of caterpillar. </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Don’t ever remember eating any homegrown tomatoes.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I think the worms completely consumed the plants. </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigOvROcSuBTCxPPV6bhk2gxTH1OZmyvdT13HD4dhAhVZ8YLc16-gnquMpbfbO9v-foNs_f4_rHTZpyOuK0PyVE3g043EijzMuT8BtpkoHT15vnJCWOUXH6449Wf1ic87hL_elWR8DfmlhU/s1600/DSC_4214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigOvROcSuBTCxPPV6bhk2gxTH1OZmyvdT13HD4dhAhVZ8YLc16-gnquMpbfbO9v-foNs_f4_rHTZpyOuK0PyVE3g043EijzMuT8BtpkoHT15vnJCWOUXH6449Wf1ic87hL_elWR8DfmlhU/s1600/DSC_4214.jpg" height="272" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Coachwhip (Red Racer)</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I didn’t get a good picture of this snake. It’s the type of animal that tries to flee (it's called a racer for a reason). It didn’t hold still much and I didn’t pursue it too far. Didn’t want to stress it in the heat of the day. It might need the energy to flee from a real predator or catch a meal. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFP2tQbc4ErzubxPFbqLtalzZacSAMXZuPJiuOB7yqO48HrjRfmGf20HmACaE3qvngcRSBfTS4HfVGNB8hwRqPMAkwMrtkvEhrn2wQj_axiMuFYYryGR1DOl_LMCGIonUOLvxsWAJGIC1_/s1600/DSC_3598.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFP2tQbc4ErzubxPFbqLtalzZacSAMXZuPJiuOB7yqO48HrjRfmGf20HmACaE3qvngcRSBfTS4HfVGNB8hwRqPMAkwMrtkvEhrn2wQj_axiMuFYYryGR1DOl_LMCGIonUOLvxsWAJGIC1_/s1600/DSC_3598.jpg" height="234" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Another Ichneumonidae (a large family of wasps most of which are parasitoids). </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“I cannot persuade myself that a beneficent & omnipotent God would have designedly created the Ichneumonidae with the express intention of their feeding within the living bodies of caterpillars, or that a cat should play with mice.” Charles Darwin -- From <span style="color: #021eaa; letter-spacing: 0px;"><a href="http://www.darwinproject.ac.uk/darwinletters/calendar/entry-2814.html">a letter to Asa Gray, 22 May 1860</a></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggnUsDImEoSsh4V8LDaXoKEa7y-BHQ0lWCRlNiKLrSYP-nWwhYuXYUoJyqdow17iSS9s7btq-yeCzfYmwNuqmNNZ2IE1xkb6NvEVQc0kfeZjmImYE1JgbGP6oEzk-75N8byT2gYq2wYMs7/s1600/DSC_3966.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggnUsDImEoSsh4V8LDaXoKEa7y-BHQ0lWCRlNiKLrSYP-nWwhYuXYUoJyqdow17iSS9s7btq-yeCzfYmwNuqmNNZ2IE1xkb6NvEVQc0kfeZjmImYE1JgbGP6oEzk-75N8byT2gYq2wYMs7/s1600/DSC_3966.jpg" height="400" width="281" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #323333;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I wanted to get this scorpion to face me to get a picture of it’s display (it was facing into a small plant). However, I had stressed it too much already. I messed up it’s shelter under a board then tried to push it around with a stick. It plunged it’s stinger into the sand several times in self defense (you can see sand sticking to the venom on it’s stinger). I didn’t want it to waste it’s venom and energy for a photo. It needs that to survive. I replaced it’s shelter and it crawled back under the board</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> to hide from the world. </span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu1sA-vvX1Pit9Axf8UAdI_tJHFw5r7v0ozKxXWbLOqLrqLERQNYnJhwEYVUdCFA-GrzWE-PAlTh1rvNf7xASKoU0vIk5QNEvktmdES_OQZ712r74udxkp_CgYLho_xORxyWrpea-mYKr7/s1600/DSC_4327-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu1sA-vvX1Pit9Axf8UAdI_tJHFw5r7v0ozKxXWbLOqLrqLERQNYnJhwEYVUdCFA-GrzWE-PAlTh1rvNf7xASKoU0vIk5QNEvktmdES_OQZ712r74udxkp_CgYLho_xORxyWrpea-mYKr7/s1600/DSC_4327-3.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #323333; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small; text-align: start;">Chuckwallas</span></td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is where I think I know how to move around animals to get close to them. These Chuckwallas kept their eyes on me but let me get pretty close. It took some patience on my part too. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIOHVotlroPLT0RJ7ROuAAgsXr1nnngcod7PLUXIw_mhGb5wB-u42eOpGNvDzcdC9vLqv96RDmwtFU-F3qnuce56Uo3UwbhJQSxiSH997ZACbFq6QkTwuy6GEDHOBzfox1548PRfU3xy9y/s1600/DSC_3451.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIOHVotlroPLT0RJ7ROuAAgsXr1nnngcod7PLUXIw_mhGb5wB-u42eOpGNvDzcdC9vLqv96RDmwtFU-F3qnuce56Uo3UwbhJQSxiSH997ZACbFq6QkTwuy6GEDHOBzfox1548PRfU3xy9y/s1600/DSC_3451.jpg" height="404" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Help! Quicksand! </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px;"> </span></span></div>
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<br />Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-59715356675738823482014-04-22T21:43:00.000-06:002014-04-22T21:43:08.435-06:00Tracks in the Sand<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhenpv3abKIExPDFmgit1wy9i8QCwOgkArGmVzbDx5J0E-qcD6obx_4C0t_cayL69w6VhulYVjM3eX2_lWAHXBWhjpWltdjnOTrJURnGiMCfGYVIdFimhz6tAHEepzeWNdh2ZsUFo4cbWXS/s1600/DSC_3780.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhenpv3abKIExPDFmgit1wy9i8QCwOgkArGmVzbDx5J0E-qcD6obx_4C0t_cayL69w6VhulYVjM3eX2_lWAHXBWhjpWltdjnOTrJURnGiMCfGYVIdFimhz6tAHEepzeWNdh2ZsUFo4cbWXS/s1600/DSC_3780.jpg" height="427" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Tracks in the sand record so many stories. </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSxHZDhRu_1BhZDs5tJ5SM7S38DM_4w2f5RByqnQp7YoE0T4YHviCJW1T-fKT3aUmKmki_ta1PqIo0dme5MS84t8lI4E8MwZBxOaOOSuo8OKF-rXunXgIB7VsF_J0KwRSx6hI0hOO0ZR9z/s1600/DSC_4186.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSxHZDhRu_1BhZDs5tJ5SM7S38DM_4w2f5RByqnQp7YoE0T4YHviCJW1T-fKT3aUmKmki_ta1PqIo0dme5MS84t8lI4E8MwZBxOaOOSuo8OKF-rXunXgIB7VsF_J0KwRSx6hI0hOO0ZR9z/s1600/DSC_4186.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe5DQhTzneTn9YME4-vUHBRbE8LZh4BG7MSpbEUzMPt0XyRFL7If8OULxP2nIvsCUAG8RfV6fkedCyfzCo2bA6U75Ww_8sv1CtRpN6h36nwTJxdDX-zzd_OcdIqh4muURbhwZyGmK-qEBN/s1600/DSC_3580.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe5DQhTzneTn9YME4-vUHBRbE8LZh4BG7MSpbEUzMPt0XyRFL7If8OULxP2nIvsCUAG8RfV6fkedCyfzCo2bA6U75Ww_8sv1CtRpN6h36nwTJxdDX-zzd_OcdIqh4muURbhwZyGmK-qEBN/s1600/DSC_3580.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Some are mysterious like what made these and why?</span></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikAryYnS-3g_iuwTHnEry4ghL6gSe4ETip20w5ldjNBw1ntOX_yjDfgQoGzGJ0maT8KqmWPAGZNiuqfpN0yUK7AvUuXHuovZWi4ephIQoPp2lRtxQY_OXyJP0ycznorNEbk1HhIcPhGhl0/s1600/DSC_3617.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikAryYnS-3g_iuwTHnEry4ghL6gSe4ETip20w5ldjNBw1ntOX_yjDfgQoGzGJ0maT8KqmWPAGZNiuqfpN0yUK7AvUuXHuovZWi4ephIQoPp2lRtxQY_OXyJP0ycznorNEbk1HhIcPhGhl0/s1600/DSC_3617.jpg" height="264" width="400" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYY16B-NHfUpzDBmWQiBCbGnAnUeM_Ddsj811rJRU62gmkO5uiZe-l2Ir36QeoQ9kZTO8YxIRn18iFrjhQc6GvQTbcuhM0gpscWuDEljVdcloqonnIfnsP4AaD0EA7ZXzY83GjX_S8TXPy/s1600/DSC_4180.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYY16B-NHfUpzDBmWQiBCbGnAnUeM_Ddsj811rJRU62gmkO5uiZe-l2Ir36QeoQ9kZTO8YxIRn18iFrjhQc6GvQTbcuhM0gpscWuDEljVdcloqonnIfnsP4AaD0EA7ZXzY83GjX_S8TXPy/s1600/DSC_4180.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Others are more obvious. A bird. What kind of bird and what was it doing? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">I think a beetle made this.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgr2hvHBRO_T5A0W2L-lLMbW2EdlwrhSEh8tRsxA7BFOTmFizHoU3jUPz18oEnQThYvgxLgIgF_BXP6KAASmuEJZT98dJ3DE9zcIV_yLPoQ8gjJypXhSffDvQZ_bhAQK4VLX6geZcxG3X8/s1600/DSC_3627.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgr2hvHBRO_T5A0W2L-lLMbW2EdlwrhSEh8tRsxA7BFOTmFizHoU3jUPz18oEnQThYvgxLgIgF_BXP6KAASmuEJZT98dJ3DE9zcIV_yLPoQ8gjJypXhSffDvQZ_bhAQK4VLX6geZcxG3X8/s1600/DSC_3627.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Not really sure about this one.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyPs12OFmA5CcWfvbYr5-6DmZVP-coBNxEhDJtzVSa13EUXmic4bR8agrx9uzJT7-KzD0lR3bsczU2EP-A1gxnFNOeZWUUcnSi2JVqCNLJAiXn6bFx48jV5HUqEv_djq1IjvT5QS2Lo6M6/s1600/DSC_3579.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyPs12OFmA5CcWfvbYr5-6DmZVP-coBNxEhDJtzVSa13EUXmic4bR8agrx9uzJT7-KzD0lR3bsczU2EP-A1gxnFNOeZWUUcnSi2JVqCNLJAiXn6bFx48jV5HUqEv_djq1IjvT5QS2Lo6M6/s1600/DSC_3579.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Why did this track suddenly stop? Did the critter burrow into the sand. Thinking (or at least hoping) it wasn’t a scorpion, I dug into the sand with my hands to see. I didn’t find anything. Did it dig deeper than I did? Did it tunnel under the sand to a different area? Was this where it came out of the sand and start crawling away? </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQb7E1EtuLgGL8MnKBCCu0MYdq8mH8WWH_o0ozK_RCkfCLQ9fKi9G-717BAaORCdtLxKb-3QU2MTClBiDYPSeBsTPlqP4cyO4K2eVDLq-QV0gsBPMB6Zg6y0v5jdgHCJn2UkFzk3YeG9aq/s1600/DSC_3547.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQb7E1EtuLgGL8MnKBCCu0MYdq8mH8WWH_o0ozK_RCkfCLQ9fKi9G-717BAaORCdtLxKb-3QU2MTClBiDYPSeBsTPlqP4cyO4K2eVDLq-QV0gsBPMB6Zg6y0v5jdgHCJn2UkFzk3YeG9aq/s1600/DSC_3547.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I’m pretty sure I discovered what made these tracks. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Any ideas?</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">See my next post for the answer. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4hSOkllsstU5gUWuJWUkuDvMbl17z87x05LkwQ9vSvwcBVa0Prj7UHR-UKnVKMzwKlphm4aJcdXNlL-qDLRM3td8-9hW0-Uab6JyKFosOgG2t6oQ0ufEJnswTMiCcABmxGpr-LflSUN15/s1600/DSC_3456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4hSOkllsstU5gUWuJWUkuDvMbl17z87x05LkwQ9vSvwcBVa0Prj7UHR-UKnVKMzwKlphm4aJcdXNlL-qDLRM3td8-9hW0-Uab6JyKFosOgG2t6oQ0ufEJnswTMiCcABmxGpr-LflSUN15/s1600/DSC_3456.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Some traces survive many sand storms. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZtSMzLx4et4ef0aSiNmeteTIJ4dlOnC24WHUH4WYJrqF2SmCfGVFGRtqB_bWIz4XPmI1GPqXb1rrSVGOH2ckjR8hYiqP3nSkRtQplUdT0Cj2_MA38Ag2Oa0SinQQQ6ELEOtTe5Uhq2COj/s1600/DSC_3609.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZtSMzLx4et4ef0aSiNmeteTIJ4dlOnC24WHUH4WYJrqF2SmCfGVFGRtqB_bWIz4XPmI1GPqXb1rrSVGOH2ckjR8hYiqP3nSkRtQplUdT0Cj2_MA38Ag2Oa0SinQQQ6ELEOtTe5Uhq2COj/s1600/DSC_3609.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A mouse or rat digging in the sand. Maybe looking for a meal. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSyw5wJYihAOX8PROjLadAg5ZDTKDjm_xr4KZ69fuzWGcNTwKKqMWKuq_m-S4H3ScIlN_klbKXw4V44EXpEmmMX8y6_P-0ybjIHhm1i3NE05NwVXK5PGKuAWPpDKYjuQMdV1XrCkccIX-Q/s1600/DSC_3618.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSyw5wJYihAOX8PROjLadAg5ZDTKDjm_xr4KZ69fuzWGcNTwKKqMWKuq_m-S4H3ScIlN_klbKXw4V44EXpEmmMX8y6_P-0ybjIHhm1i3NE05NwVXK5PGKuAWPpDKYjuQMdV1XrCkccIX-Q/s1600/DSC_3618.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">Must be a lizard. I can almost see it. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJzyjnCAkkxVR2bj1jYiYZyF7Eh1wt4P5Di3bzVfD_K9qteaHOOe0jnV-eIfIUCpYPTmGErSZtLBNU_SHBtLtZO5L44a4VTUtO4pmdKLbyeZLQCAxUtku0eW8_-WphiYa4BISjgM9xgP91/s1600/DSC_3570.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJzyjnCAkkxVR2bj1jYiYZyF7Eh1wt4P5Di3bzVfD_K9qteaHOOe0jnV-eIfIUCpYPTmGErSZtLBNU_SHBtLtZO5L44a4VTUtO4pmdKLbyeZLQCAxUtku0eW8_-WphiYa4BISjgM9xgP91/s1600/DSC_3570.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Most tracks I see are so interesting and add to the beauty of the dunes. I don’t feel the same way about my own tracks. I feel guilty even though I know they will be gone in a few days. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkzrpteH_TMDA1YhyphenhyphenbNuna3PwYB-eVaGixgpQHAyhW0ekSUpsps-YckwxdRu9tsWrK91wgrqKi1Nv2gXPTkzO_79TgSDULbJY-oykEdyhRwMGB77YBkdshKSmu7dFVQiu6NKSOF_Cuqacc/s1600/DSC_3743.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkzrpteH_TMDA1YhyphenhyphenbNuna3PwYB-eVaGixgpQHAyhW0ekSUpsps-YckwxdRu9tsWrK91wgrqKi1Nv2gXPTkzO_79TgSDULbJY-oykEdyhRwMGB77YBkdshKSmu7dFVQiu6NKSOF_Cuqacc/s1600/DSC_3743.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">I don’t feel as guilty as I hope the person that left these tracks feels.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">Driving off established roads is strictly prohibited.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">At first I was disgusted that some fool would do this.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">This kind of damage can last many years.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">I realized that I don’t know the story behind these tracks either.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">Maybe it was a rescue team saving some crazy photography who got heat stroke. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0rUfkeJ9dzwoeaR2TsI5HgdTBhAs2M6yKV-wNlXTAvVWiZKZ1Q64azGmf1RhlrWc1guzyBycv-QwS3MspnGocZY4CFTDUCLMk1_OIry7MMkkk2Y7VCDijfA4ck4QPVQwS5WtfhTnz0kjd/s1600/DSC_4386.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0rUfkeJ9dzwoeaR2TsI5HgdTBhAs2M6yKV-wNlXTAvVWiZKZ1Q64azGmf1RhlrWc1guzyBycv-QwS3MspnGocZY4CFTDUCLMk1_OIry7MMkkk2Y7VCDijfA4ck4QPVQwS5WtfhTnz0kjd/s1600/DSC_4386.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">Although this isn’t a track in the sand it's my favorite kind of track in the desert. </span></div>
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Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-79825899754509287272014-01-01T13:20:00.000-07:002014-01-01T13:36:28.529-07:00Virgin River <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD4jl021jiB7aCOh8JEGNKsJHZ8_J2gYjubK1rsRZd8J0yQfqZZeM8wwfcJPJ75Hu-JDl6OpWqTJn-UPWlzd2OrWxdcxoCxhy2szv-_QlEtCvENL43iszGI0VNluh-bnMlCsUgct1RplL3/s1600/600_2723.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD4jl021jiB7aCOh8JEGNKsJHZ8_J2gYjubK1rsRZd8J0yQfqZZeM8wwfcJPJ75Hu-JDl6OpWqTJn-UPWlzd2OrWxdcxoCxhy2szv-_QlEtCvENL43iszGI0VNluh-bnMlCsUgct1RplL3/s640/600_2723.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At the end of December I went to Zion National Park to get away from the cold and spend some time outside. I went mainly to hike to Observation Point. It was a great hike. I enjoyed it even more than Angels Landing. While I was there I spent a few hours taking long exposure photos along the Virgin River. I was having some technical problems that frustrated me for awhile. I believe the problem was cause be a very cheap wireless remote release that I carry as a backup. The battery went dead in my Nikon wireless remote so I used my cheap backup. I think it was activating twice every time (or most every time) I pressed the button. Not good when trying to take a 60 second exposure by pressing once to start the exposure and a second time to end it. I had a spare battery for the remote too but just grabbed the spare remote instead. Oh well, my intentions were to just practice long exposures anyways. I did learn from the problems I was having and it was fun. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEc1AB-9GA8iJ5mjdsgoOjuIjaJaHtkxVbqrlGA_oHMsa_aOKsRHpOEzNilK4M9zW1y4S3hO5t9Z3ThT0e24bNJTgerJMwnWmgWGoMjVSDMNPMyW_0-k7lLk9C434AXSFQZF6vsTSsebIA/s1600/600_2732.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEc1AB-9GA8iJ5mjdsgoOjuIjaJaHtkxVbqrlGA_oHMsa_aOKsRHpOEzNilK4M9zW1y4S3hO5t9Z3ThT0e24bNJTgerJMwnWmgWGoMjVSDMNPMyW_0-k7lLk9C434AXSFQZF6vsTSsebIA/s640/600_2732.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjleKZQh4hFERHGYfKMAXOnxHyTXBKCz75EiO_mGy4P1oYD4ZDeZfsBzThCsiB3u8MIovapEma8mEuiXn_bYbVtjSLMGTNMRadl-CDGPcvuebzE6Bvg1HMBkc1MwOF9y0Qu44InBS1o1DjY/s1600/600_2872.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjleKZQh4hFERHGYfKMAXOnxHyTXBKCz75EiO_mGy4P1oYD4ZDeZfsBzThCsiB3u8MIovapEma8mEuiXn_bYbVtjSLMGTNMRadl-CDGPcvuebzE6Bvg1HMBkc1MwOF9y0Qu44InBS1o1DjY/s640/600_2872.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: start;">I tried to find places where there was no one else around but I every time I setup my tripod within minutes there would be a dozen other people around trying to get the same shot. That's okay, I like seeing other people enjoying photography too. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg3BkHlXm9SpPCF_VdeiDTtifYv5VzQLtPgzVbUNd92HGC5McvdGkxiYAOwclkVKRtyQ7VELSpiwjj7_UWL2LV63OcUlCapwQBGWhLOW6jGHjxcEsd64erYzTSUtC8HyFGWV9EZSIE1D42/s1600/600_2878.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg3BkHlXm9SpPCF_VdeiDTtifYv5VzQLtPgzVbUNd92HGC5McvdGkxiYAOwclkVKRtyQ7VELSpiwjj7_UWL2LV63OcUlCapwQBGWhLOW6jGHjxcEsd64erYzTSUtC8HyFGWV9EZSIE1D42/s640/600_2878.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-20466665027665974442013-11-28T00:07:00.000-07:002013-11-28T00:09:22.408-07:00Hitchhiker<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Marmots are the larges members of the squirrel family and occasional chewers of boot, backpack strap, hiking pole grips, and radiator hoses.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #404040; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16px; letter-spacing: 0px;">Image from: <a href="http://www.nps.gov/seki/planyourvisit/marmots.htm" target="_blank">http://www.nps.gov/seki/planyourvisit/marmots.htm</a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404040; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16px; letter-spacing: 0px;">Something unusual happened a few months ago while I was driving to my parents house after work. I had traveled about 25 miles on the freeway when my brake warning light came on. My car is only a year and a half old so I thought it was odd but probably something minor and didn't worry. A few minutes later the ABS warning light on. Then the brake system and TRAC system warning lights came on. I grew more concerned and a bit upset at the quality of my car. When I got to my exit I found I had virtually no brakes at all. It took pressing the pedal as hard as I could to get a little grip. The exit was long and there were no other cars so I was able to come to a stop safely. I drove slowly a few more miles to my parents house timing it so I didn't have to stop at the lights and coasting to a near stop before using the parking brake to stop completely. I didn't know what the problem was but I figured I could at least check the brake fluid. When I opened the hood, to my surprise there was a marmot sitting on top of the engine. The strangest part was I knew exactly what had happened. A few weeks earlier I was reading (listening actually) to Neil Peart's book "Roadshow: Landscape with Drums" in which he told of seeing cars at Kings Canyon wrapped in plastic to keep the marmots out because they like to chew on hoses and wiring in cars. The marmot jumped off the car, ran underneath it and back up behind the engine. A man driving by stopped in the middle of the road, rolled down his window and yelled "What the hell was that?" I replied "A yellow bellied marmot. It just chewed up my brake line." </span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I ran to tell my parents to come out and see this. I got a flash light and a stick and tried to poke the marmot thinking it would get out of my car. It just bit onto the stick and played tug-o-war with with me. I then got the hose and a spray nozzle and began blasting it with water. It still would not leave it's hiding spot behind my engine. It was soaked, scared, pretty unhappy and began to chirp. The neighbors came out to see what all the commotion was about. They were snapping pictures and took turns playing tug-o-war with the wet rodent. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I resorted to calling the local animal control officer to come help. The officer said she gets 2 to 3 calls a month for marmots being in peoples cars. She added they usually just run away when confronted and she didn't know what to do about this angry little critter. So she called another officer who was good with animals. When he arrived and looked over the situation he said there was nothing he could do because he didn't think I would want him to pepper spay it or shoot it since it was in my car. He was right. He said leave it alone and maybe it will run off when there was no one around. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I drove the car over to a nearby church parking lot where it was quiet and no one was around. I then borrowed my parents car and got some brake fluid. When I came back I wasn't sure if the marmot was there or not but I thought I would drive back to my parents to survey the damage. As I was leaving the parking lot very slowly I felt a bump. I looked in my rear view mirror and saw a wet marmot shuffling across the parking lot and into some bushes. Even though I was mad at the marmot, I felt bad that I ran it over and hoped it wasn't hurt too bad. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The brake fluid spilled onto the ground as fast as I poured it in. The brake line was split wide open, held together by just a thread. I could see it also chewed up a grounding strap on top of the engine. Fortunately that was all the damage. However, it did cost me $500 to have it towed and repaired and it was in the shop about a week waiting for parts. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I still can't figure out where I picked up this marmot. It certainly was in my car when I left work that day. I don't believe there are marmots living near where I work. Did it get a ride to work in someone else's car then switch rides? Did it get into my car a day or two earlier and ride around with me without causing any trouble? Guess I'll never know. Now every time I hear a strange noise in the car I wonder if there's a marmot under the hood. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">More from the National Park Service: </span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Each spring and early summer, the marmots of Mineral King have been known to dine on rare delicacies. Their fare includes radiator hoses and car wiring! Like bears, jays and ground squirrels, marmots have not only become accustomed to visitors, they have learned that people are a source of food.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In the parking areas some marmots feast on car hoses and wires. They can actually disable a vehicle. On several occasions, marmots have not escaped the engine compartment quickly enough and unsuspecting drivers have given them rides to other parts of the parks; several have ridden as far as southern California!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">The whole thing sounds ridiculous, but it's true. If you visit Mineral King, especially during the spring, check under you hood before driving away. Let the rangers know whether or not your vehicle has been damaged. And don't forget, marmots also love to feast on boots, backpack straps, and other salty things such as the grips of hiking poles.</span></div>
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Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-25114068856103220002013-11-20T22:16:00.000-07:002013-11-20T22:16:06.033-07:00The Wave<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtxESmI1wcL0UWZ7_T2v_B8UZiP7ajhyphenhyphen1AARbFbwaq6Dz4DRZYKNw5befdCCKhxg1UzN3-spY0fD_adPLCYS2CyuJD7TG-PSTf77CCUvAUrx99TLWbrL542kcSpjYbyKP1WzzNIUK7_RNr/s1600/600_2543.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtxESmI1wcL0UWZ7_T2v_B8UZiP7ajhyphenhyphen1AARbFbwaq6Dz4DRZYKNw5befdCCKhxg1UzN3-spY0fD_adPLCYS2CyuJD7TG-PSTf77CCUvAUrx99TLWbrL542kcSpjYbyKP1WzzNIUK7_RNr/s640/600_2543.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I started hiking early and got to the Wave when it was still in the shadows. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was nice to watch the morning sun spill over the sandstone. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was wearing a Buff that said National Geographic on it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I just got it, mainly to cover up my hair when camping and I can't shower in the morning.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was asked by a few hikers if I worked for National Geographic. I wish.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTyHXjCI6-gNLga9cEVHHDOt3xplVkMvf1_Ch-tElDblyf1GltE8tuLvIIgdSydkbSOQyD6aSfOpuuu_VKvIo7EkjtIakijBcAlwMt3_yAsUmfNpVF6GT1KdkLm1i8MBrNeKKkZCqwPIqI/s1600/600_2553.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTyHXjCI6-gNLga9cEVHHDOt3xplVkMvf1_Ch-tElDblyf1GltE8tuLvIIgdSydkbSOQyD6aSfOpuuu_VKvIo7EkjtIakijBcAlwMt3_yAsUmfNpVF6GT1KdkLm1i8MBrNeKKkZCqwPIqI/s640/600_2553.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There was a group of Chinese students that had a GoPro on a remote controlled... well I'll call it a drone. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">They got photos from interesting angles. Too bad there was some guy wearing </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">a National Geographic Buff waving at the camera in their shots.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpI4rWVCK-BtvdRDWlFPifTAxBTJL-1QnStomnVWadYCrkvTJNZBb1DCJ8IY4pDoZyTyzxIWwFDl3AXekWF7Vpj-Z_-gKeY_9fwSnSiSQG3gxg2rAmaHKMjLgVwiSjzzOI-bX8ASJdCfyK/s1600/600_2578.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpI4rWVCK-BtvdRDWlFPifTAxBTJL-1QnStomnVWadYCrkvTJNZBb1DCJ8IY4pDoZyTyzxIWwFDl3AXekWF7Vpj-Z_-gKeY_9fwSnSiSQG3gxg2rAmaHKMjLgVwiSjzzOI-bX8ASJdCfyK/s640/600_2578.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's funny how much I can enjoy laying on my belly in wet sand on a chilly morning </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">as long as I have my camera in my hands.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAnyNTu0HjteNNTVr-ieH8_A5imcpC0VfwL7RToPFWMcfSIiF97kGFaFH1ZCtGarLefJkloXN-fKGiz-w3sVfNTG2Sj79pBUDQv1FVnFUJqiSYjv8V0ond6sgCBnC9kTixYLVsunPMc94M/s1600/600_2596.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAnyNTu0HjteNNTVr-ieH8_A5imcpC0VfwL7RToPFWMcfSIiF97kGFaFH1ZCtGarLefJkloXN-fKGiz-w3sVfNTG2Sj79pBUDQv1FVnFUJqiSYjv8V0ond6sgCBnC9kTixYLVsunPMc94M/s640/600_2596.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> A formation called The Second Wave.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW_xoBwvS6MySYEQqwUiWiyihpgJh1abqEeO7HJRFYUSk6rwdfbk0LnMYvfUdUg8VEaXg4EGnLGh3ypm8R9dKSPJPDUtSA-QGSHuWlTnfqrPqJampXqgZ2PY4jsVo_sJMKoFnqMLIeeaFs/s1600/600_2598.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW_xoBwvS6MySYEQqwUiWiyihpgJh1abqEeO7HJRFYUSk6rwdfbk0LnMYvfUdUg8VEaXg4EGnLGh3ypm8R9dKSPJPDUtSA-QGSHuWlTnfqrPqJampXqgZ2PY4jsVo_sJMKoFnqMLIeeaFs/s640/600_2598.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A couple from Germany asked me where to find the Big Mac formation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have no idea. They said it looks just like a Big Mac.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxmvwq0XRWNtICHbFfSBUUvJVKsrznRYxPGdeSLUwrSOAQsmA1K9GBau9SEzROwaZCL9MhtF2hbTgO3CpU9DboMZA5LRnzzIojm-g01B-dq2z5HGMQ5CZHQzrKgqLkTPm4X677ZK-uatpk/s1600/600_2630.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxmvwq0XRWNtICHbFfSBUUvJVKsrznRYxPGdeSLUwrSOAQsmA1K9GBau9SEzROwaZCL9MhtF2hbTgO3CpU9DboMZA5LRnzzIojm-g01B-dq2z5HGMQ5CZHQzrKgqLkTPm4X677ZK-uatpk/s640/600_2630.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">An strange deviation in the patterns of the Wave. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's fun to think about the processes that might have form this. The laying down of sediments, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">pressures turning it to stone, upheaval of the area, wind and water erosion. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Somewhere in there some kind of geological turbulence bent, cracked and twisted this section.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoKIVvvZ6RdRnapu8bo55QA9ZOHRbucY7MryZpEEilp6VDZUB5TPsiGdunpFkgbhdd0V-GTYC5N7A3iEpHWWVEDSkjVHMihet3LNvsynvQ4kq3-N5EhXTFK7MkU-POuq9Icw_4QusR3uxK/s1600/600_2687.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoKIVvvZ6RdRnapu8bo55QA9ZOHRbucY7MryZpEEilp6VDZUB5TPsiGdunpFkgbhdd0V-GTYC5N7A3iEpHWWVEDSkjVHMihet3LNvsynvQ4kq3-N5EhXTFK7MkU-POuq9Icw_4QusR3uxK/s640/600_2687.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Leaves floating in a shallow puddle on the way to the Wave. </span></div>
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Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-8730713925643870732013-11-19T21:16:00.001-07:002013-11-19T21:41:51.297-07:00Paria Time Lapse<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/kP5YckuangU?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I tried a few more time lapse videos over the weekend. Nothing fantastic but I did learn a little or at least found some problems I need to learn how to fix. I don't like the small size of the videos on this blog. I uploaded HD quality but it doesn't look so good full screen. I've got to get this fixed too. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474877595227449618.post-25802311277970588222013-08-25T18:14:00.000-06:002013-08-25T19:10:37.557-06:00Teapot Lake<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">My alarm woke me up at 4:00 a.m. this morning.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">I rolled out of bed, took a few steps then sat down and asked myself “Do I really want to do this?”</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">I thought I could sleep a few more hours and still do an early morning hike and there was a good chance that the sunrise photo opportunity I was hoping for would turn out to be disappointing.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">I thought at least I have a good book to listen to in the car (Neil Peart’s </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">Traveling Music</i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">), I want to do a high elevation hike and everything is packed and ready to go.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">So I stood up and got ready.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">This was the third time in the last two months I’ve driven to Teapot Lake in the dark dodging deer, raccoons and porcupines.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">As planned, it was still dark when I got there.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">There was a little moon light but I still needed a flash light to find my way around the wet grass and soggy dirt along the edges of the lake.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">I immediately had my camera on the tripod and started taking pictures. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp3IgWBhMaOXn3KT38lgNlZXcF3RXoElCNeOdU89x_ckln0ZGp8U6A56yFjfLRK9jWoudwwqRKIWGbnjbCu69H-QJCjDRvn2C-ck06idOTCZzBqg1qW-resX8C9W5C93AIcqiesLazEuu8/s1600/600_1747.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp3IgWBhMaOXn3KT38lgNlZXcF3RXoElCNeOdU89x_ckln0ZGp8U6A56yFjfLRK9jWoudwwqRKIWGbnjbCu69H-QJCjDRvn2C-ck06idOTCZzBqg1qW-resX8C9W5C93AIcqiesLazEuu8/s640/600_1747.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Using 30 second shutter speeds made it look like it was much lighter than it really was. The sky soon began to grow lighter as the sun was beginning to come around again. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0u0TUBpLWgtaNXOX16EZoTSKynahf7dPCpn_FL0kKT2jUElH1sB2IrVyagsuVdBBG50F75_NTac5nrXAA4dqg8IEe8tmxCTLa9t7YEEOa9DOxsumaMb7BpK3AnVvR77vLKP4VCZoDcU9F/s1600/600_1784.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0u0TUBpLWgtaNXOX16EZoTSKynahf7dPCpn_FL0kKT2jUElH1sB2IrVyagsuVdBBG50F75_NTac5nrXAA4dqg8IEe8tmxCTLa9t7YEEOa9DOxsumaMb7BpK3AnVvR77vLKP4VCZoDcU9F/s640/600_1784.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I had anticipated the mist on the lake. Last time I was there to try to photograph the Perseid meteor shower there was a little mist rising so I figured it would make for interesting sunrise photos. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Y40TuVCz8sn_DZ2KZiRQDU-AvnJySJBGaKcfKoZRz19oe_TowALw5GyHcdxnsXy_MU5bcDZ9ikRx7r_ODmmbBAfc6BWrprm_4FEZuvi4rM7bIKQbqIRtsJf4m6FMAenaj-INk57VaH7f/s1600/600_1809.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Y40TuVCz8sn_DZ2KZiRQDU-AvnJySJBGaKcfKoZRz19oe_TowALw5GyHcdxnsXy_MU5bcDZ9ikRx7r_ODmmbBAfc6BWrprm_4FEZuvi4rM7bIKQbqIRtsJf4m6FMAenaj-INk57VaH7f/s640/600_1809.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After the sun was up and the best light was over I hiked Bald Mountain which can be seen in the distance in most of these photos. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBUwVbe9Aaie6oNOJtZ6dKb7e8K275KKKgWMa_FF4Xxv-oJnLdD-CVX6EtLwiUpu5AJoyBfK7Kqkk7P9fQDLwdljMnjegjXcmih3A7G9hEVpihHIFIS0aRuvHkXXAL_Huj3SoMpxG2upCx/s1600/600_1885.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBUwVbe9Aaie6oNOJtZ6dKb7e8K275KKKgWMa_FF4Xxv-oJnLdD-CVX6EtLwiUpu5AJoyBfK7Kqkk7P9fQDLwdljMnjegjXcmih3A7G9hEVpihHIFIS0aRuvHkXXAL_Huj3SoMpxG2upCx/s640/600_1885.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I’m glad I didn’t go back to sleep. If I had I am sure I would have had the kind of Sunday that would be forgotten by Wednesday. Instead I had the kind of Sunday I will always remember. </span></span><br />
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Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12217763662285404427noreply@blogger.com2