I think most humans are hard wired to avoid situations that can possibly harm them physically or emotionally. Obviously we learn a great deal from our parents while we're growing up, like not to cross the street before looking both ways. You know, common sense stuff. Yet there are many other things we usually find out for ourselves through trial and error before mom and dad can warn us, or warnings that we are given, but totally ignore. Like not sticking metallic objects into power receptacles. I only did that once. I'm pretty sure that I was aware that the blade of my pocket knife was metallic and didn't really belong in that socket. Older people aren't the only ones that have "brain farts". Like I said, there was no sequel to that moment of brilliance. The only thing brilliant about it was probably me, lighting the sky up for a nanosecond.
Then there are the situations we try hard not to get into because, well, just because they're wrong. Not because anybody warned us, but because nobody had to. These are the situations that are too abhorrent, too disgusting to even consider. But sometimes they happen anyway, because well, accidents happen. An accident like this happened to me.
In late August 1995, my wife and son and I decided to move to north Idaho from Bakersfield. I had recently retired from the Bakersfield Police Dept. due to an injury, and I think we were all antsy to try something new. So off we went, in two vehicles. My wife and son were in the Olds Cutlass, and our full-grown German Shepherd, Blitz, and I manned the El Camino. It was probably hard for Blitz to get comfortable on that seat, but the bed was full of property that the movers wouldn't allow on their van, so it was the only alternative. We'd stop every few hours to stretch our legs or get a bite to eat, and then back onto I-5.
It was at the conclusion of one of these stops on travel day 2, in Oregon, that the unthinkable happened. We had finished eating at a fast food joint right off of I-5. Blitz and I were taking a short walk to let him stretch and pee. Linda and my son, John, were already back in the Olds, anxious to continue our trip, and the engine was running. As they began to pull out of the parking lot to get back onto the freeway, I was simultaneously trying to get Blitz back into the El Camino via the driver side door. And he wasn't cooperating. Not wanting to let Linda get on the freeway without me on her tail, I had to take swift and decisive action to get Blitz into the truck. He already had his front paws up on the seat right behind the steering wheel, but he didn't want to go any further. So I decided to give him a good, forceful push from behind. While doing so, I was focused on Linda driving towards the on-ramp and unfortunately, not focused on how close to Blitz's turd clipper my left hand was. In a flash, as Blitz began to jump up the rest of the way into the truck, I felt a hauntingly familiar digital insertion sensation on the middle finger of my left hand as I continued pushing him, and it was buried to the hilt. It only lasted a moment, but I knew what had happened, and was at once horrified and revolted. I withdrew my finger at about the same speed of light as I had withdrawn the pocket knife years earlier when I inserted it into the electrical socket.
Linda was well onto the on-ramp, and I hadn't even started the El Camino. My God, what was I going to do? I had no cell phone with me to notify Linda that I needed to wash my hand. I fearfully glanced at my defiled finger, mortified at what I may see. Thankfully, it was as clean as a whistle, but I wasn't going to put that whistle anywhere near my mouth. All I could do was try to catch up to Linda who was already on the freeway. Not wanting to even get the faintest of "aroma's" from that vile finger, I chose to drive with my left arm and hand out the window for the next couple hundred miles until our next stop. I eventually caught up with Linda, and she looked perplexed, staring at me from the Olds, as to why I appeared to be manually signalling a right turn on the freeway for such a long distance. At the next rest stop, I told her what had happened and then went and washed that finger....several times.
As for Blitz, I may have imagined it, but he seemed to kind of "smile" at me the rest of the trip to Coeur d'Alene. I wish I could have explained to him that it was all an unfortunate accident. Good boy Blitz. That's loyalty for you.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
Why is it Called "Los Osos?
I think this post could get me in a heap of trouble with my big sister....if she ever reads it. I'm going to write it anyway because man, I live for danger. I've also been known to go swimming right after I eat.
My older sister and brother-in-law live in Los Osos, Ca. on the central California coast. For those not familiar with this area, it's situated between Pismo Beach and Morro Bay which are two very scenic, small town tourist traps. This area of the central California coastline is very popular with folks from the central and southern San Joaquin Valley, mainly Fresno and Bakersfield and everything in between. It's a relatively short drive, (2 1/2 hours), there's lots of fun stuff to do, it's gorgeous, uncrowded compared to southern California beaches, and it's way cooler than the valley during the summer. So people from where I live flock there to play and cool off. Many, including my sister have purchased residences of one kind or another and live there full or part-time.
My wife and I are pretty familiar with the area. In high school, it was already a popular destination for students and their families during spring break and summer vacation. I have some great, and not so great memories of those beaches. Like driving my '67 Camaro along the the beach near the Oceano Dunes. Idiotic, but fun. Night time beach bonfires with friends and free-flowing beer. And getting caught by my minister father while smoking cigarettes with a buddy one night as we walked around town in Pismo acting cool. Boy, did I get the crap slapped out of me that time....in front of my friend....in the back seat of my dad's Mercury. Funny, I didn't feel too cool with my ears ringing and snot running down my upper lip. As we got older and realized we weren't surfers or lovers of sand in our butts anymore, the beach became less of an attraction and we started deep-sea fishing out of several landings in the area. There's not much on this planet that's better tasting than deep fried rock fish, and we caught a bunch over the years. During our 15 years living in north Idaho, one of the things we missed the most about California was the central coast and those fishing trips. Second place would probably be our families. Well, maybe that's just me.
After having been back in Bakersfield for the past year, we decided to take a trip over to the coast this past weekend to visit my sister and her husband and attend the Clam Festival in Pismo Beach. As I mentioned previously, my sister has a place in Los Osos. It's a very small community which is the norm for most of the beach towns in this area. The only time I'd ever been there was was back in 1991 for a week-long camping trip at a place called Camp K.E.E.P. with a group of at-risk juveniles. I did this when I was a D.A.R.E. Officer with the Bakersfield P.D. During that stay, I never really saw any of the town. We took the kids on a walk to the beach one day, but the place is a nature preserve, so basically you can't touch or step on anything. Great fun for the kids.
Fast forward to last weekend. I suppose due to ignorance and the passage of time, I envisioned Los Osos as being a stereotypical beach town.....older, tidy homes and yards, built in very close proximity to one another, and many of them being either right on the beach or very close....close enough to walk to or ride a bike to. And plenty of spendy town homes and condo complexes in the mix. And some strip malls and trendy tourist shops. And a beach. Duh, why wouldn't you expect one there? You're at the beach, right? Boy, was I in for a surprise when we drove into town and started looking for my sister's place. I mean it's a shock. You pass through San Luis Obispo, a great little college town, on the way there, and then WHAM! You're in Los Osos. Oh, it had homes that are older and close together all right, but frankly, there was nothing neat or tidy about any of them. The place is run down and shabby. At least the parts that we saw. Unkempt yards and cars up on blocks on some of the front yards. And the streets were almost all in horrible condition. Driving around there is like trying to navigate around one of those Halloween corn mazes. We got a little lost later that day trying to figure out how to get to Morro Bay, and we asked a USPS letter carrier for directions. Even she had a hard time trying to explain how to escape this grungy little neighborhood. Oh, and the Schwan's salesman in the big yellow truck kept driving in circles like he was lost too. Could this be the real location of the infamous "Devil's Triangle"? I almost expected to see Rod Serling of "Twilight Zone" fame standing on a street corner staring eerily at me, like I was the putz that was going to "get screwed" by some paranormal phenomenon at the end of the episode.
On the positive side, we finally made it to my sister's place which is in in one of those 55 and older communities with modular and manufactured homes. It's pretty nice, at least what we saw. A lot nicer than the rest of what passed for homes in that town. But there's no visible business area. No stores or shops, very few places to eat, and almost no tourists, which I guess is a good thing if you want total peace and quiet. She's living very near the preserve I mentioned....it looked more like a prehistoric swamp to me. And as for the beach, well, there isn't one in Los Osos. At least not the kind you find in every other beach community in the area. Because it's a preserve dummy! Like jelly! At night, if you hold your breath, you can sort of hear surf breaking on a beach somewhere in the distance. There's a walking path near her home that will take you through the swamp, I mean preserve, but as I mentioned earlier, you're not supposed to touch anything. You probably wouldn't want to anyway. I think most of the native plant's names begin with "Poison" this or that.
We made it to Pismo for the Clam Festival on Saturday. It was OK I guess, and at least it smelled good due to all the food vendors. It was a beautiful day too. And it has a real beach with a pier, and waves and surfers, and it gives you that "beachy" feel. But Los Osos? I'll pass I think. However, I may know how they came up with it's name. Whichever explorers or settlers found the place, they probably thought that compared to the other "excellent" beaches in the area, it was merely "so so". That's not the basis for a good Latino name though, (they were probably Spanish explorers), but guess what sounds sort of Spanishy themed? Yup, Osos....so so, spelled backwards. Just add a "Los" for that authentic sound and voila! Los Osos! And that concludes your history lesson for today, children. There'll be a quiz tomorrow.
My older sister and brother-in-law live in Los Osos, Ca. on the central California coast. For those not familiar with this area, it's situated between Pismo Beach and Morro Bay which are two very scenic, small town tourist traps. This area of the central California coastline is very popular with folks from the central and southern San Joaquin Valley, mainly Fresno and Bakersfield and everything in between. It's a relatively short drive, (2 1/2 hours), there's lots of fun stuff to do, it's gorgeous, uncrowded compared to southern California beaches, and it's way cooler than the valley during the summer. So people from where I live flock there to play and cool off. Many, including my sister have purchased residences of one kind or another and live there full or part-time.
My wife and I are pretty familiar with the area. In high school, it was already a popular destination for students and their families during spring break and summer vacation. I have some great, and not so great memories of those beaches. Like driving my '67 Camaro along the the beach near the Oceano Dunes. Idiotic, but fun. Night time beach bonfires with friends and free-flowing beer. And getting caught by my minister father while smoking cigarettes with a buddy one night as we walked around town in Pismo acting cool. Boy, did I get the crap slapped out of me that time....in front of my friend....in the back seat of my dad's Mercury. Funny, I didn't feel too cool with my ears ringing and snot running down my upper lip. As we got older and realized we weren't surfers or lovers of sand in our butts anymore, the beach became less of an attraction and we started deep-sea fishing out of several landings in the area. There's not much on this planet that's better tasting than deep fried rock fish, and we caught a bunch over the years. During our 15 years living in north Idaho, one of the things we missed the most about California was the central coast and those fishing trips. Second place would probably be our families. Well, maybe that's just me.
After having been back in Bakersfield for the past year, we decided to take a trip over to the coast this past weekend to visit my sister and her husband and attend the Clam Festival in Pismo Beach. As I mentioned previously, my sister has a place in Los Osos. It's a very small community which is the norm for most of the beach towns in this area. The only time I'd ever been there was was back in 1991 for a week-long camping trip at a place called Camp K.E.E.P. with a group of at-risk juveniles. I did this when I was a D.A.R.E. Officer with the Bakersfield P.D. During that stay, I never really saw any of the town. We took the kids on a walk to the beach one day, but the place is a nature preserve, so basically you can't touch or step on anything. Great fun for the kids.
Fast forward to last weekend. I suppose due to ignorance and the passage of time, I envisioned Los Osos as being a stereotypical beach town.....older, tidy homes and yards, built in very close proximity to one another, and many of them being either right on the beach or very close....close enough to walk to or ride a bike to. And plenty of spendy town homes and condo complexes in the mix. And some strip malls and trendy tourist shops. And a beach. Duh, why wouldn't you expect one there? You're at the beach, right? Boy, was I in for a surprise when we drove into town and started looking for my sister's place. I mean it's a shock. You pass through San Luis Obispo, a great little college town, on the way there, and then WHAM! You're in Los Osos. Oh, it had homes that are older and close together all right, but frankly, there was nothing neat or tidy about any of them. The place is run down and shabby. At least the parts that we saw. Unkempt yards and cars up on blocks on some of the front yards. And the streets were almost all in horrible condition. Driving around there is like trying to navigate around one of those Halloween corn mazes. We got a little lost later that day trying to figure out how to get to Morro Bay, and we asked a USPS letter carrier for directions. Even she had a hard time trying to explain how to escape this grungy little neighborhood. Oh, and the Schwan's salesman in the big yellow truck kept driving in circles like he was lost too. Could this be the real location of the infamous "Devil's Triangle"? I almost expected to see Rod Serling of "Twilight Zone" fame standing on a street corner staring eerily at me, like I was the putz that was going to "get screwed" by some paranormal phenomenon at the end of the episode.
On the positive side, we finally made it to my sister's place which is in in one of those 55 and older communities with modular and manufactured homes. It's pretty nice, at least what we saw. A lot nicer than the rest of what passed for homes in that town. But there's no visible business area. No stores or shops, very few places to eat, and almost no tourists, which I guess is a good thing if you want total peace and quiet. She's living very near the preserve I mentioned....it looked more like a prehistoric swamp to me. And as for the beach, well, there isn't one in Los Osos. At least not the kind you find in every other beach community in the area. Because it's a preserve dummy! Like jelly! At night, if you hold your breath, you can sort of hear surf breaking on a beach somewhere in the distance. There's a walking path near her home that will take you through the swamp, I mean preserve, but as I mentioned earlier, you're not supposed to touch anything. You probably wouldn't want to anyway. I think most of the native plant's names begin with "Poison" this or that.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Flies, Sparrows, and No-Shows
I've got a few observations I'd like to share. Let's start with the flies. I hate flies. I would like to think that most humans, and probably a lot of animals hate them too. I suppose they've got their place on the planet, I just wish it wasn't at my place. I'm astounded by the number of flies that apparently live within "flying distance" of my home. I don't know where they're breeding or hanging out, but I suspect it has something to do with the nearby agriculture and accompanying truckloads of human and animal excrement being used as fertilizer. I haven't actually seen these fecal accumulations, but based on the fly population, they must be substantial. The smell of dung of some kind frequently permeates the late evening and early morning air in my neighborhood. It's very hard to get used to it after living in the forests of North Idaho the past 15 years. There was an older, sickly deer that used to hang around our property for a time, and it was covered in its own waste. Boy did that thing smell. It could have benefited from some "Doepends". Back to the flies.
I like to cook outside. I've got a charcoal and a gas grill, as well as a smoker which I don't use all that often. My favorite is the charcoal grill. I like the flavor of the meat better and apparently the flies do as well. July through September were terrible this summer. Moments after lighting my charcoal grill, I am absolutely inundated with fly swarms of Biblical proportions. I've never seen anything like it as far as flies go, although with the onset of cooler weather, they're not quite as bad. I wonder if this is how the Egyptian Pharaoh felt during some of those plagues in Biblical times? Enjoy a grilled dinner outside? Not likely at our house during the summer. Unless of course you don't mind looking like one of those fly-covered, hollow-eyed, starving African kids you see in fund-raising commercials, or you're willing to wait until about 11:30 P.M. to eat. That must be fly bedtime.
I don't think much can be done to combat the flies. My wife bought me some of those sticky fly strips at the Dollar Store a couple of months ago, but most of the nasty glue on the strips wound up on my hands, arms, and even in my hair. There was lots of yelling but that's another story. The flies are simply very unwanted and uninvited, and only show up to get a good meal....or at least fly around the patio fantasizing about one.
Now for the sparrows. I don't hate them like I do flies, at least I didn't used to. I had my lawn thatched and seeded with winter rye a couple of weeks ago. It took about two days for the sparrows to discover the new bounty of seed scattered on my front and back lawn. And when they did....well, remember the aforementioned Biblical plague reference? Ditto for the sparrows. Now I hate them too. They were at times like hordes of locusts, completely covering the lawn, and engaged in an orgy of seed consumption. Whoever coined the phrase, "Eats like a bird", must have never seen a spectacle like this.
The neighbors who saw and heard me running from front to back, repeatedly clapping my hands or sandals together to scare the birds, probably thought I was nuts. I actually started believing that myself for a couple of days. I even put out two of those fake owls thinking that might keep them away. Not so. A sparrow was standing on one of the dummy owl heads one morning while his buddies were gorging on seed. I pretty much gave up at that point. Well, the seed has finally started to grow, but there are several bare spots which will have to be reseeded, and I've probably lost a considerable amount of hair worrying about this stupid situation. Unfortunately, my scalp can't be reseeded. Another example of unwanted critters coming around for a free and easy meal.
So what are no-shows, and how do they fit into this equation? No-shows are usually friends or acquaintances who HAVE been invited to, and accepted an invitation to some event. Then they bail, usually at the last minute. And the excuses aren't usually very believable. So what's the big deal about that? Who really cares if someone doesn't come to the scheduled event as they had promised? I suppose if it's not your event, and you didn't really have to go to any trouble to host the event, the whole concept probably seems insignificant. But for the hosts, and even for some of the attendees, it's disappointing. Most likely they really like the no-show, unlike flies and sparrows, and really wanted them to attend. Many times, there is ample food and drink at the event, for the guests, but not for the flies and sparrows. It's usually purchased by the hosts in anticipation of a certain amount of attendees who promised to be there. That forces those who did attend to eat and drink the surplus which was intended for the no-shows. Or it just gets discarded. Or eaten by flies and sparrows, which weren't invited, but probably came anyway.
Here's the point, if there is one to all of this. I think I realize now why I don't like to host parties. With all the flies, sparrows, and no-shows, it's all just too confusing, and not worth the trouble. I'll probably still grill in the backyard and have my lawn seeded every fall. The flies and sparrows will most likely be there too....they don't know any better.
I like to cook outside. I've got a charcoal and a gas grill, as well as a smoker which I don't use all that often. My favorite is the charcoal grill. I like the flavor of the meat better and apparently the flies do as well. July through September were terrible this summer. Moments after lighting my charcoal grill, I am absolutely inundated with fly swarms of Biblical proportions. I've never seen anything like it as far as flies go, although with the onset of cooler weather, they're not quite as bad. I wonder if this is how the Egyptian Pharaoh felt during some of those plagues in Biblical times? Enjoy a grilled dinner outside? Not likely at our house during the summer. Unless of course you don't mind looking like one of those fly-covered, hollow-eyed, starving African kids you see in fund-raising commercials, or you're willing to wait until about 11:30 P.M. to eat. That must be fly bedtime.
I don't think much can be done to combat the flies. My wife bought me some of those sticky fly strips at the Dollar Store a couple of months ago, but most of the nasty glue on the strips wound up on my hands, arms, and even in my hair. There was lots of yelling but that's another story. The flies are simply very unwanted and uninvited, and only show up to get a good meal....or at least fly around the patio fantasizing about one.
Now for the sparrows. I don't hate them like I do flies, at least I didn't used to. I had my lawn thatched and seeded with winter rye a couple of weeks ago. It took about two days for the sparrows to discover the new bounty of seed scattered on my front and back lawn. And when they did....well, remember the aforementioned Biblical plague reference? Ditto for the sparrows. Now I hate them too. They were at times like hordes of locusts, completely covering the lawn, and engaged in an orgy of seed consumption. Whoever coined the phrase, "Eats like a bird", must have never seen a spectacle like this.
The neighbors who saw and heard me running from front to back, repeatedly clapping my hands or sandals together to scare the birds, probably thought I was nuts. I actually started believing that myself for a couple of days. I even put out two of those fake owls thinking that might keep them away. Not so. A sparrow was standing on one of the dummy owl heads one morning while his buddies were gorging on seed. I pretty much gave up at that point. Well, the seed has finally started to grow, but there are several bare spots which will have to be reseeded, and I've probably lost a considerable amount of hair worrying about this stupid situation. Unfortunately, my scalp can't be reseeded. Another example of unwanted critters coming around for a free and easy meal.
So what are no-shows, and how do they fit into this equation? No-shows are usually friends or acquaintances who HAVE been invited to, and accepted an invitation to some event. Then they bail, usually at the last minute. And the excuses aren't usually very believable. So what's the big deal about that? Who really cares if someone doesn't come to the scheduled event as they had promised? I suppose if it's not your event, and you didn't really have to go to any trouble to host the event, the whole concept probably seems insignificant. But for the hosts, and even for some of the attendees, it's disappointing. Most likely they really like the no-show, unlike flies and sparrows, and really wanted them to attend. Many times, there is ample food and drink at the event, for the guests, but not for the flies and sparrows. It's usually purchased by the hosts in anticipation of a certain amount of attendees who promised to be there. That forces those who did attend to eat and drink the surplus which was intended for the no-shows. Or it just gets discarded. Or eaten by flies and sparrows, which weren't invited, but probably came anyway.
Here's the point, if there is one to all of this. I think I realize now why I don't like to host parties. With all the flies, sparrows, and no-shows, it's all just too confusing, and not worth the trouble. I'll probably still grill in the backyard and have my lawn seeded every fall. The flies and sparrows will most likely be there too....they don't know any better.
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