Visit the kelpforest....

I am such a klutz.

At the point where I change buses I have a 15 minute wait in front of a high school. I don't like sitting down there because there is a big soda machine right next to the stop that blocks my view of the street, and also the bus driver can't see me sitting there. If I stand where I can see, I'm blocking the path of all the students coming to class. So today I figured I had plenty of time so I would just walk to the next stop. I had enough time, and I could use the walk.

Actually the next stop was still in front of the high school, so I kept going. It's one of those typical Southern California neighborhoods where the houses are surrounded with 7 foot cinderblock walls, and the main artery streets in residential areas are really rather ugly. The sidewalk runs next to the wall, and there's a dirt strip next to the road. In newer, more well-to-do areas, these may be prettily landscaped (either part of your taxes or your homeowner association dues), but in older neighborhoods, either there's a bare dirt strip or the sidewalk goes all the way to the curb.

Anyhow, I knew I had plenty of time before the bus came; however, I couldn't keep myself from looking over my shoulder to check. On one of these checks, though, the turning of my head coincided with stepping off the edge of the sidewalk into the dirt, tripping, and totally going sprawling onto the sidewalk. In front of a street full cars and bunch of high school students walking by, no less. I picked myself up and inspected the damage. A bleeding pinkie knuckle and a scraped knee, and a pair jeans I won't be able to wear to work anymore because now there's a hole in the knee. Ah well, if it'd been thirty years in the future, I could've broken a hip.

The next stop wasn't until after the next signal, a half-mile from the first, not too far, and I still had a few minutes to wait. Luckily we have a first aid kit in the wetlab,so I was able to patch myself up ok. Note to self: spare pair of pants at work. I should have them here anyway, in case I have to run to the docks, but since I usually wear jeans anyway, I haven't had the need to change.

Several people asked what was wrong when they heard loud knocking sounds coming from my office. It was me banging my head on the desk.

I had just spent an hour poring over my sardine database; when I ran the reports for San Pedro and Monterey separately, they turned out fine, but when I stuck them together, I only got results for 25 fish instead of 367 for the month of July. I looked and I looked and I could not spy anything out of whack. I was about to run it again just in case it was a computer hiccup, when I finally noticed my error. When I looked at the dates, they were 7/1 to 7/1.

*Headdesk, again*

Doh!

TGIF...

This is how much of a math cripple I am.

When reading the symbols for "greater than" or "less than," I often have to stop and look at which number the symbol is pointing to, before I can say it out loud, because when I first learned it, it was "the arrow always points to the smallest number."

Shortly after I joined Bookcrossing, I got a notification that someone had released a book at the high school a block from my house. I missed it, but I sent the person who had released it a notification that was interested in the book she'd released, and I'd be looking for future ones. Her user name was Cookie Dragon, and I asked if she'd ever seen Pocket Dragons® and sent her a link - she thought they were cute and she'd never seen them before. I thought I might send her a picture of mine, since one of them is "cookie dragon."

( Actually, the title is 'Cookie? What Cookie?' )

After we got that gigantic squid a couple of months ago, I used my personal camera to take pictures of it, downloaded them to my work computer, then sent copies of it to one of my bosses in La Jolla. Later, he emailed me back with the following:

"Is that your cookie monster as well?"

Oops. Somehow, I guess I must have clicked on that picture too, and accidentally attached it to the email. My explanation:

To: Dale
From: Leeanne
Re: cookie monster

*red face*

Umm, that's our Pocket Dragon. He lives in the sampling truck, and survives on dropped muffin crumbs and the occasion corner of breakfast burrito or bagel.

He also demands we stop at Starbucks on the way back from the docks. He has a bit of a caffeine problem. It makes it hard to drive when a tiny dragon is buzzing about your ears and threatening to set your squid sample sheets ablaze.

Leeanne (who obviously needs more caffeine herself)

...and speaking of Pocket Dragons®, I would dearly to have this guy on my desk.... ;)

For a challenge by megthelegend - who added me out of the blue a few months ago, and I'm ever so glad she did... :) I know this was due the week after you issued it, but it rapidly got out of hand and threatened to become novel-sized. I'm sorry it took me so long...

Meg sez...

senoritafish wants a non-(fiction)writer DARE.

I would love to hear about the birth of your kids. ::g:: I'm a sucker for a kiddie story, especially when it involves something that traumatic and amazing!!! Don't mention the actual labours if you don't want to, but I would love to hear, please, about the buildup and anticipation, about how the household adjusted each time.

OK, you asked for it. Actually I was planning to eventually post about this at some point. I'll try not to get too graphic, but there may be some TMI, and/or bodily fluids.

(  #1 - Nematode's Story... )

This one probably one won't be nearly as long. I'm a bit less clear on the details...
( #2 - Tardigrade's Story... )

This was the most recent- You'd think I could remember more. Then again, maybe you wish I remembered less! ;p
( #3 - Copepod's Story )

( Further Adjustments... )

*put here because LJ would not let me comment*

I learned to drive in high school. I don't know if they still do this - it might have been the victim of many school budget cuts. The first time I ever got behind the wheel, and tried to make a left turn, I drove up a curb, knocked over a fence, and put a big dent in a tree in someone's yard. I stepped on the gas instead of the brake, and even though the teacher had a brake on his side, the gas pedal overpowered it. It was one of those succulent type of desert trees (like a yucca), and if I had been going very fast, the whole thing would have shattered; as it was I only got the bumper green. The next day, I heard one of the teachers talking on the phone to someone at another school - "Yep, right up the curb. Knocked over the fence. Uh-huh. Right into the tree...." I wanted to sink into the floor, and yes, I never wanted to get behind the wheel again. (Edit: Happened by this house just recently - here are some pics of the site after ~30 yrs.)

At the end of the class, they gave us a mock driving test, and for some reason, I had to do it in a stick shift which I had never driven before. I had to make a three point U-turn, and when I went to back up, I went too fast and hit the curb, causing the spare tire to fall out from under the car and drag in the street. They were trying to put the tire back while the car was crosswise in the street!

While I still had my learner's permit, my father allowed my to drive on a family trip to see a great uncle. Before I even made it to the freeway, I made too tight a right turn, went up another curb and dented the intersection's signal control box.

Obvously, the curbs and I were not seeing eye to eye. Only logical, since they were about 5 feet 2 inches shorter than I was.

Later, my dad had me pratice with our old VW bug, and I eventually got it down, and the curbs and I came to terms. I did get my license, although it took me two tries, and, despite a bumpy beginning, I have been a relatively safe driver for about 23 years. When I bought my first truck, it was a stick, mostly because it got better gas mileage (and it was a truck because I never knew when I might have to throw a dead porpoise in the back, which just would not have worked with a sedan).

It will take a little while, but you will get the hang of it. Soon it will be second nature. Keep trying. *Sends waves of encouragement*

I did get to see Garrison Keillor on Monday night; I ran out at lunch time to get his book Love Me so I could have it signed, and I also brought one that's been on my bookshelf, WLT, for a number of years. It occurred to me that I have been listening to this man and his show for going on 20 years; I believe I started before I went to college. John knew I really wanted to go, (and how often do you get to see someone like that for free!) and agreed to stay home while I went by myself. Rather graciously, I might add, it turns out that his jealous act about Mike is mostly to give me a hard time. He called and told his friend Jerry was coming over, and to go ahead and leave from work.

I made it up to Pasadena without incident, although I did have to stop for gas and to put air in the tire (it has a slow leak). However, off the freeway and heading to CalTech, I found that many of the streets are not brightly lit and the street signs are rather small. It was already dark, and although I'd been to the Beckman Auditorium before I ran into a little trouble finding the street the parking lot was on. By the time I could read the street sign, I was already past the street, so I had to make a few U-turns before I found the right place.

I walked to the auditorium and got in line. There was a line for ticket holders, who apparently got reserved seating, and the longer line for people just showing up (like me). However, I was expecting the place to be jammed and it wasn't. There were quite a cross section of people in line with me; older, bordering on elderly people, to younger people - I noticed a guy with a Mohawk and a girl with blue hair.

When they started letting people in, I went up to the balcony, as the lower floor was crowded, and sat in the front row so I could scan the crowd for Mike. The ceiling consists of a bunch of concave gold disks connected together and suspended from the upper ceiling like a parachute. There are little blinking lights that could be seen through the gaps between the disks. I guess I'm easily hypnotized, because I kept finding myself staring at the ceiling.

The PR manager for the bookstore came out to introduced Mr. Keillor finally, and he ambled out the front of the stage, ignoring the tall stool set there for his use for the moment. He started by reading some poetry, starting with Emily Dickinson and another called Wild Geese, by Mary Oliver.

Now poetry in a book is, for me, like sheet music. I can look at it and know intellectually that there is music there, but I can't hear it. Like music, it's meant to be heard, And by someone with a Voice. The words that were just ant meandering across the page come to life. Sigh.

And then he got a little lighter, and recited his daughters favorite about the seeing eye dog peeing on the blind man's shoe (whaddya expect - she's 5), and the one I felt I had to memorize, a rather different twist on the creation myth:

When God first created woman, she had not two breasts, but three
But the middle one got in the way, so God performed surgery.
After, Woman came to God, the extra breast in her hand
And said, "What shall we do with this useless boob?

So God created man.

Heh. Sorry, guys. But a guy said it.

He read a bit from his book, some of the bits where the main character was giving advice to the lovelorn. Then he perched on the stool, sometimes with his knees drawn up, and sometimes with his legs splayed across the stage, so his bright red socks and black sneakers with white laces were clearly visible, and took questions from the audience, even though the program said that he wouldn't. He offered advice on dealing with celebrity governors (he's from Minnesota, doncha know), admitted that when he quit his show and ran off to Denmark with a new wife he was having a midlife crisis. One of the things he said that struck me, is that once a moment passes, it doesn't exist any more unless it's recorded, documented, written about. That's what writers do. And it's kind of what this whole website is about, isn't it?

After he was done speaking, they set tables up on the stage and people got in line to have him sign their books. The line extended down the stage and into the lobby, but I was surprised it wasn't longer. I assumed he'd be sitting at the table and signing, but he actually stood there and talked to each person as they came up. I was near the back of the line, and passed the time chatting to the woman in line with me, and listening to people behind me. There's one in every crowd - a guy actually said he doesn't have time for a girlfriend because he does nothing but go to book signings and get a thousand signed books a year. He'd been at the front of the line and immediately ran around to the end with another stack of books. *Shakes head* He said he had about 30 and he was sure Garrison wouldn't mind, they were good friends. The store rep, although she seemed like she knew him, put her foot down and told him "no, only five more." Sheesh, I felt guilty giving him two!

When it was my turn, he regarded me gravely - those eyebrows seem to getting more Andy Roonyish every year - and extended his hand )with the pen still in it), looked me up and down and and said "That is an awesome shirt!" I was wearing a Hawaiian shirt with surfboards on it. The woman I'd been talking to mentioned I lived in Huntington Beach - "Surf City" and he chimed in with "Oh yeah, The Beach Boys mentioned that in some of the songs. Didn't they grow up there?" Well actually they grew up in Redondo Beach, but at the time I was ashamed to admit I didn't know. He asked if I had a family and how that was going for me, and finished by holding his hand out again with a smile. And of course I was reduced to a giggling schoolgirl, who couldn't make a straight sentence. I giggled all the way back to my car.

I looked at my books before I drove home. In one he just put "Best" and in the new book he wrote, "Love and Coffee," I stopped at In n' Out Burger before I got back on the freeway, since I hadn't had a chance to grab a bite earlier, and as I headed back down the 605 towards the beach and home, I thought Garrison Keillor shook my hand twice! I'll never wash it again..." Then I remembered I was eating a drippy burger and fries, so that wouldn't work very well.

What a sweet, sweet man. For a shy person, he certainly can put people at their ease. Anyway, I've been trying to get this out since Tuesday morning, and I've just had too much other stuff to do, and now it's after 1 am Saturday morning. So I'll going to bed.

Dammit, my brother sent me a link to a video clip with Leonard Nimoy, singing "Bilbo Baggins" and I can't get it to work. I'll have to try the other computer; this one seems to have some settings that don't work and I don't know how to change them.

Maybe you can see it...but I warn you. I think I've heard this before and it may be painful....

I had such a crush on Spock when I was in jr. high. I still have a soft spot for him.

At the office yesterday, T. was giving V. a hard time for leaving her pen by the fax machine; he had picked it up and was using it to get people to sign a petition for some union thing and she demanded it back. He said something about putting TEN on all of his stuff so it didn't get lost. I started to say "Is that your intials?" - I was going to make some asanine comment about them spelling a word, and to my horror, my tongue tripped and I heard my mouth saying "Is that your NIPPLE?"

There was complete silence for about 2 seconds while I attempted to sink though the floor and my ears nearly caught fire, then all the cubicles around me just erupted. "Can we quote you on that?" yelled S. Honestly, I have no idea where that came from. I did use my breastpump just before lunch, but transferring my own to T.'s is a bit of a jump.

My tang got tongueled up.