From the LA Times:
"Officials said ... five people initially refused to leave their homes when the evacuation order was issued. But since then, firefighters have set back fires in the area, and the people have now asked to be rescued. The Sheriff's Department considered sending a helicopter but was told by fire officials that conditions were not safe. Spokesman Steve Whitmore said the department is now monitoring conditions and trying to figure out how to get to them."
Now, I'm not so cold-hearted to say that, if these folks can't be rescued, they're getting what they deserve. But it is extremely frustrating that the Sheriff's Department has to waste time, personnel, and possibly a helicopter in order to save these dorks because they didn't leave when directed to do so.
You know, when I didn't go paragliding ... I mean, we'd wanted to go paragliding, but the wind wasn't blowing in the right direction. And one of the guys up on the mountain asked our lead glider guide if he could take off in another direction. And the lead glider guy said, "Sure, just as long as you first sign a release saying that you beat me up, tied me to the truck, and took off while I was yelling, 'No! Don't do it!'" Guy got the message and chose that, under the circumstances, it might be preferable not to take off that way.
I'm thinking we need similar forms for people who choose not to comply with evacuation orders. You know, something like, "I hereby understand that the people whose job it is to keep me from burning to death have demanded that I get out of here for my own safety, but I prefer to stay here because, based on my phenomenally inferior training and experience. I have personally determined that the risk to my safety is insignificant. I acknowledge that, when conditions get worse, as they are almost certain to do, I will be put up to public ridicule when I change my mind and meekly ask to be rescued -- assuming, of course, that conditions even allow for a rescue of my sorry ass."
Monday, August 31, 2009
Typo Du Jour
Reading an article about the fire, I find a report that the "Mayor said. 'Currently, the Los Angeles Fired Department has four strike teams assigned to battling the fire.'"
Really? I mean, I knew there were cutbacks, but the whole Department??
Really? I mean, I knew there were cutbacks, but the whole Department??
Sunday, August 30, 2009
My mother probably shouldn't read this post
OK, let's talk about the fire.
That would be the Station Fire, burning cheerfully out of control in a vaguely Northwesterly location from me.
I've been paying only a vague sort of attention to it, seeing as it was more than a city away, but this is, actually, one big, massive MoFo of a fire. The scope of it wasn't entirely clear to me until I was driving home from the theatre last night and actually saw it -- a big red ribbon all the way around the dark mountain. It looked kinda like Mordor, actually -- an image which was not at all ameliorated by other areas where there's tons of smoke billowing upward, lit a foreboding red light from below.
So, here's the bottom line -- the damn thing is burning something less than five miles away from me (as the crow flies -- there's a lot of terrain in between) which is enough to make me a bit concerned about possible evacuation. They've been trying to keep it away from Mount Wilson, which houses an observatory and a ton of communications towers and (more importantly, from a "how does this affect me?" perspective) is about directly North of me (ballparking that on a map, I'd say about 3 miles). I've been pretty happy with the whole Keep It Away From Mount Wilson thing, but the latest reports say it will get there sometime overnight. Now, that's still in the mountains, but they've been fighting this bastard in foothill communities all along the southern edge of the mountains, so if it gets to Mount Wilson, there's a reasonable chance it will end up within about a mile of my house, a fact which kinda freaks me out.
I'm not yet evacuating. I'm not yet packing to evacuate. But I did spend today preparing to pack to evacuate.
First problem: The cat. I don't want to show up on a friend's doorstep with a cat but no litter box. So, I went to the pet store and ended up filling my car with about $50 worth of spare cat supplies: litter box, litter, scoop, food/water dish, cat food, and (in the interest of protecting the furniture of wherever I may go) a small scratching post. Also, this seemed the right time to acquire a cat collar and nametag. On the theory that my place might get evacuated while I'm at work, I wanted to make sure the cat was safely labelled. To my great surprise, the cat took to the collar pretty well. Sure, there was about a minute of (somewhat amusing, really) cat trying to figure out why that little bell sound was coming from her, but, after that, she's been really cool with it. (Now I have to get used to the damn bell.)
After that: putting together a small bag of Crap I'll Want To Save. (To be clear, this is different from packing clothes, toiletries and meds to take with me upon any evacuation -- that can be done in under ten minutes with a duffel bag and very little choosiness.) So, I've got: my Baby Book, my passport, title to the car, deed to the house, various other financial documents, insurance policies, jewelry, my camera (currently loaded with pictures of everything in my house, for insurance purposes), and my netbook (after transferring the entire "My Documents" file from my desktop). There are a few more documents I need to throw in (and perhaps some collectibles I'd be really pissed to lose) -- but, honestly, pretty much everything else is just STUFF (a fact with which I am intimately aware, as I've recently unpacked all of it).
Don't get me wrong, here. I don't want to evacuate and I sure as hell don't want to lose the house -- especially after how long it took me to find it and all the work I've had done on it -- but I'm also oddly detached from the whole thing and OK with the thought that it could all go up in smoke. As long as I'm OK and the cat's OK, the rest is all replaceable (and insured, with full replacement coverage).
That would be the Station Fire, burning cheerfully out of control in a vaguely Northwesterly location from me.
I've been paying only a vague sort of attention to it, seeing as it was more than a city away, but this is, actually, one big, massive MoFo of a fire. The scope of it wasn't entirely clear to me until I was driving home from the theatre last night and actually saw it -- a big red ribbon all the way around the dark mountain. It looked kinda like Mordor, actually -- an image which was not at all ameliorated by other areas where there's tons of smoke billowing upward, lit a foreboding red light from below.
So, here's the bottom line -- the damn thing is burning something less than five miles away from me (as the crow flies -- there's a lot of terrain in between) which is enough to make me a bit concerned about possible evacuation. They've been trying to keep it away from Mount Wilson, which houses an observatory and a ton of communications towers and (more importantly, from a "how does this affect me?" perspective) is about directly North of me (ballparking that on a map, I'd say about 3 miles). I've been pretty happy with the whole Keep It Away From Mount Wilson thing, but the latest reports say it will get there sometime overnight. Now, that's still in the mountains, but they've been fighting this bastard in foothill communities all along the southern edge of the mountains, so if it gets to Mount Wilson, there's a reasonable chance it will end up within about a mile of my house, a fact which kinda freaks me out.
I'm not yet evacuating. I'm not yet packing to evacuate. But I did spend today preparing to pack to evacuate.
First problem: The cat. I don't want to show up on a friend's doorstep with a cat but no litter box. So, I went to the pet store and ended up filling my car with about $50 worth of spare cat supplies: litter box, litter, scoop, food/water dish, cat food, and (in the interest of protecting the furniture of wherever I may go) a small scratching post. Also, this seemed the right time to acquire a cat collar and nametag. On the theory that my place might get evacuated while I'm at work, I wanted to make sure the cat was safely labelled. To my great surprise, the cat took to the collar pretty well. Sure, there was about a minute of (somewhat amusing, really) cat trying to figure out why that little bell sound was coming from her, but, after that, she's been really cool with it. (Now I have to get used to the damn bell.)
After that: putting together a small bag of Crap I'll Want To Save. (To be clear, this is different from packing clothes, toiletries and meds to take with me upon any evacuation -- that can be done in under ten minutes with a duffel bag and very little choosiness.) So, I've got: my Baby Book, my passport, title to the car, deed to the house, various other financial documents, insurance policies, jewelry, my camera (currently loaded with pictures of everything in my house, for insurance purposes), and my netbook (after transferring the entire "My Documents" file from my desktop). There are a few more documents I need to throw in (and perhaps some collectibles I'd be really pissed to lose) -- but, honestly, pretty much everything else is just STUFF (a fact with which I am intimately aware, as I've recently unpacked all of it).
Don't get me wrong, here. I don't want to evacuate and I sure as hell don't want to lose the house -- especially after how long it took me to find it and all the work I've had done on it -- but I'm also oddly detached from the whole thing and OK with the thought that it could all go up in smoke. As long as I'm OK and the cat's OK, the rest is all replaceable (and insured, with full replacement coverage).
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Sharin' my Earworm
All right, here's the thing. There's this song from a show (I say "song from a show" rather than "showtune," since the latter tends to conjure up images of chorus girls tap dancing) which I rather like. Although it has annoyed me somewhat that I'd never heard anyone just attack that thing and sing it as well as I think it ought to be sung.
So, nearly two years ago, I saw a benefit concert with songs by the composer in question (Stephen Schwartz) and, bless his heart, Broadway actor Chad Kimball (whose biggest credit to that point had been playing the cow in the revival of Into the Woods -- a role previously played by an inanimate object) came out and sang the hell out of the song. I almost didn't recognize it at first, because they'd kicked the tempo up a bit, but once I realized that's what he was singing, I was just so darned pleased that someone finally got it right.
Now, the downside (and upside) to live theatre is that it's, y'know, live. As a result, even the cast recording of a production does not always sound as good as an awesome performance you might have hit one day when the cast was really on. And this is particularly true when the only recording you've got is someone else singing the damn song from a different production, where the tempo was too slow. But I listened to that anyway, because it was all I had.
Until about a month ago, when the director of the benefit concert in question actually posted video (nice, good, high quality, not-illegally-made video) of each number on youtube. This particular song has been viewed 87 times by now, and I suspect I'm responsible for a good quarter of that -- as I truly dig this rendition and, well, I don't think there's a way to put it on my .mp3 player.
So, check it out.
So, nearly two years ago, I saw a benefit concert with songs by the composer in question (Stephen Schwartz) and, bless his heart, Broadway actor Chad Kimball (whose biggest credit to that point had been playing the cow in the revival of Into the Woods -- a role previously played by an inanimate object) came out and sang the hell out of the song. I almost didn't recognize it at first, because they'd kicked the tempo up a bit, but once I realized that's what he was singing, I was just so darned pleased that someone finally got it right.
Now, the downside (and upside) to live theatre is that it's, y'know, live. As a result, even the cast recording of a production does not always sound as good as an awesome performance you might have hit one day when the cast was really on. And this is particularly true when the only recording you've got is someone else singing the damn song from a different production, where the tempo was too slow. But I listened to that anyway, because it was all I had.
Until about a month ago, when the director of the benefit concert in question actually posted video (nice, good, high quality, not-illegally-made video) of each number on youtube. This particular song has been viewed 87 times by now, and I suspect I'm responsible for a good quarter of that -- as I truly dig this rendition and, well, I don't think there's a way to put it on my .mp3 player.
So, check it out.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Weight Gain
On the cruise -- or more precisely, at the end of the cruise -- we were informed that, on average, people gain one pound per day of cruising.
Which was interesting because I'd actually started modifying my food intake about halfway through the cruise. Not modifying it much, mind -- it was more of keeping my desserts capped to one a day, and replacing that afternoon cookie with afternoon fruit.
Still, I know I ate a lot more -- and a lot worse for me -- than I eat at home. (And I certainly ate a ton on my last travel day, in my attempt to take in enough calories to get myself home awake.)
So, it was with some level of trepidation that I stepped on the scale upon my return, and discovered...
I hadn't gained any weight. My weight was right where it was when I'd started. At the low end of "normal" for me.
Over the past week -- with me back at home on my food & exercise plan -- my weight has gone up two pounds.
I am trying to process this fact. I've come to some interesting conclusions, which are likely to lead to some modifications in my current plan.
Preliminarily, I am, of course, aware that I got a lot more exercise running off on shore excursions than I do at home. On the other hand, I don't think the same is true of the week I spent in London, and I didn't put on weight there, either. So this isn't about exercise. It's more about the intersection of two different elements:
1. Eating for stomach, not mouth.
2. Portion control.
On the last day of the cruise -- the very last day -- I experienced something I hadn't experienced my entire trip: I had that feeling that I was full, but I ate another couple bites anyway. I don't think I would have noticed the feeling except it hadn't been there for the previous week. I had certainly eaten a lot -- in some cases, I ate everything they put in front of me at dinner and then some -- but I was always eating because I was hungry. (With the exception of breakfast, of course, when there was a certain amount of planning ahead.)
At the same time, lunch was often a serve-yourself-from-the-buffet affair, and I (in direct contrast to what you might think is standard buffet behavior) didn't take all that much at all. I'd put a small puddle of food on my plate, take it back to the table, eat it all ... and then be oddly surprised when I didn't feel a need to go back for seconds.
The other day, I tried to put these lessons into practice at home. Got lunch (a teriyaki chicken bowl) at the place I usually get lunch. And I usually finish the whole bowl, including every last grain of rice. And this time, I thought, "Hey, if I eat half of this, will I be full?" So I tried it -- and after I ate half the bowl, I had to have a small consultation with myself on how it felt. Is the stomach full? Not sure. The mouth wants more, because it's tasty. (Shut up, mouth.) Brain wants more, too. I'm on my lunch break; if I'm done, I have to go back to work. (Sorry, brain. Can't eat just to keep from working.) So, stomach? You OK with this?
Apparently so. The food that, for the past year, has been my regular lunch at least a couple days a week, is actually sufficient for lunch and dinner, if I split it up.
I'm also trying to deal with the impact of television on my eating. Because there was minimal television on this vacation -- and I definitely eat when I watch television. That's my "discretionary calories" (which I keep under 300), but I wonder what it is about watching TV which makes me want to snack. And I know (brain speaking, not stomach or mouth) that I wouldn't want that snack if I wasn't watching TV -- I certainly didn't when I was on vacation. I have a sneaking suspicion that if I turned of the TV and tried to finish my book, I'd be eating less.
And there's no doubt that stress (i.e. not having any on vacation) and sleep (getting at least 8 hours on vacation) have also both played into the unusual circumstance of Not Gaining Weight On A Cruise.
I have to admit, however, that I'm a little bit depressed by the discovery that my daily life is not good for my health.
Which was interesting because I'd actually started modifying my food intake about halfway through the cruise. Not modifying it much, mind -- it was more of keeping my desserts capped to one a day, and replacing that afternoon cookie with afternoon fruit.
Still, I know I ate a lot more -- and a lot worse for me -- than I eat at home. (And I certainly ate a ton on my last travel day, in my attempt to take in enough calories to get myself home awake.)
So, it was with some level of trepidation that I stepped on the scale upon my return, and discovered...
I hadn't gained any weight. My weight was right where it was when I'd started. At the low end of "normal" for me.
Over the past week -- with me back at home on my food & exercise plan -- my weight has gone up two pounds.
I am trying to process this fact. I've come to some interesting conclusions, which are likely to lead to some modifications in my current plan.
Preliminarily, I am, of course, aware that I got a lot more exercise running off on shore excursions than I do at home. On the other hand, I don't think the same is true of the week I spent in London, and I didn't put on weight there, either. So this isn't about exercise. It's more about the intersection of two different elements:
1. Eating for stomach, not mouth.
2. Portion control.
On the last day of the cruise -- the very last day -- I experienced something I hadn't experienced my entire trip: I had that feeling that I was full, but I ate another couple bites anyway. I don't think I would have noticed the feeling except it hadn't been there for the previous week. I had certainly eaten a lot -- in some cases, I ate everything they put in front of me at dinner and then some -- but I was always eating because I was hungry. (With the exception of breakfast, of course, when there was a certain amount of planning ahead.)
At the same time, lunch was often a serve-yourself-from-the-buffet affair, and I (in direct contrast to what you might think is standard buffet behavior) didn't take all that much at all. I'd put a small puddle of food on my plate, take it back to the table, eat it all ... and then be oddly surprised when I didn't feel a need to go back for seconds.
The other day, I tried to put these lessons into practice at home. Got lunch (a teriyaki chicken bowl) at the place I usually get lunch. And I usually finish the whole bowl, including every last grain of rice. And this time, I thought, "Hey, if I eat half of this, will I be full?" So I tried it -- and after I ate half the bowl, I had to have a small consultation with myself on how it felt. Is the stomach full? Not sure. The mouth wants more, because it's tasty. (Shut up, mouth.) Brain wants more, too. I'm on my lunch break; if I'm done, I have to go back to work. (Sorry, brain. Can't eat just to keep from working.) So, stomach? You OK with this?
Apparently so. The food that, for the past year, has been my regular lunch at least a couple days a week, is actually sufficient for lunch and dinner, if I split it up.
I'm also trying to deal with the impact of television on my eating. Because there was minimal television on this vacation -- and I definitely eat when I watch television. That's my "discretionary calories" (which I keep under 300), but I wonder what it is about watching TV which makes me want to snack. And I know (brain speaking, not stomach or mouth) that I wouldn't want that snack if I wasn't watching TV -- I certainly didn't when I was on vacation. I have a sneaking suspicion that if I turned of the TV and tried to finish my book, I'd be eating less.
And there's no doubt that stress (i.e. not having any on vacation) and sleep (getting at least 8 hours on vacation) have also both played into the unusual circumstance of Not Gaining Weight On A Cruise.
I have to admit, however, that I'm a little bit depressed by the discovery that my daily life is not good for my health.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Too Much 'Nip
When I last took Jasmine to the V-E-T, I purchased a catnip filled sock. The vet was selling them. Proceeds were to benefit homeless kitties, and it seemed the equivalent of giving my cat a lollipop after a trip to the doctor's office. It was a baby's sock, filled with catnip, double-stitched closed.
Jasmine wasn't too interested because she was traumatized by the vet visit. But I left the sock out for her playtime enjoyment.
Hardly touched it.
I came home from vacation to find the sock unrecognizable -- with numerous holes torn in it and catnip flakes in a puddle around it. And a pretty happy cat.
I need to throw out the sock before I have a catnip covered house, but I didn't want Jasmine to notice me throwing her stash away. So I moved it. Into the cat carrier we use when we're going to the vet. On one hand, it may encourage her to go back into the carrier. On the other, she'll be stoned the next time we see the vet.
Jasmine wasn't too interested because she was traumatized by the vet visit. But I left the sock out for her playtime enjoyment.
Hardly touched it.
I came home from vacation to find the sock unrecognizable -- with numerous holes torn in it and catnip flakes in a puddle around it. And a pretty happy cat.
I need to throw out the sock before I have a catnip covered house, but I didn't want Jasmine to notice me throwing her stash away. So I moved it. Into the cat carrier we use when we're going to the vet. On one hand, it may encourage her to go back into the carrier. On the other, she'll be stoned the next time we see the vet.
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