Thursday, May 31, 2007
Workin' for the weekend
Last weekend, Becky and I took our first vacation together, out to Padre Island near Corpus Christi. Not South Padre, the spring break destination. This was camping on the beach, complete with wildlife, sand, and sun.
We were off to a late start, but traffic was light and we made it to a spot at the Malaquite site with plenty of time to set up camp before it was too dark to see well. Becky had bought two tarps, and we made good use of both, one over the picnic table's slat shelter and one as a rain-/windbreak facing the ocean. That one came down more than once over the course of the weekend, due to strong wind that was not in evidence the night we arrived. A ten-foot bed of washed up seaweed rotting on the shore meant the little gnats were ample, and with no breeze to blow them further up toward the Winnebagos in the parking lot a hundred yards away, we were slapping them away that first night.
Saturday began wet, but that didn't stop us from trying out our floaties in the rain. We both took a nap around noon, but when the sun finally did come out, we were so happy to see it we both went back out on the waves without sunscreen. Luckily, I didn't get too terribly burned, but I'm peeling now and got a light shade of red as a souvenir from the trip. A good shower at the campsite's facilities and we were ready for a few drinks, followed by bed (a very comfortable full-size air mattress).
Sunday began much like Saturday, but took a turn for the worst when I forgot I had the car keys in the pocket of my trunks and jumped in the ocean. We were stressed, and made a few disconcerting phone calls trying to work out how to get a spare from Austin, almost resigning ourselves to another day stuck out there (funny how much you want to leave when you find yourself without the means to do so), when, miracle of miracles, Becky found the keys washed up on the shore. I was napping at the time, but apparently she even did a dance of joy.
Earlier that day, the largest sand crab we saw all weekend crawled out of its hole and nestled in between our floaties, which were wedged between the windbreak and the ground, as we watched. We wondered what he might be up to, and it turned out he was seeking his final resting place. A couple hours later, he was dead, and we tossed him over one of the sand mounds. I told Becky, "One brave sand crab gave his life so that we could find our keys."
There were lots of little sand crabs everywhere on the beach, way more than I expected, and they were amazingly quick, always moving sideways and blending in with the sand almost perfectly. On our several walks over the weekend, we also encountered water crabs (one dead, one alive), a sea worm (very rare to find), and a couple shrimp-like crustaceans the size of insects.
We packed up just in time to avoid getting drenched by a huge thunderstorm just as the sun was setting. On the way back we watched Predator on the portable dvd player and split the driving duties. After a nice, long shower at home, we were in bed by 1:00am, exhausted. Well worth the trip.
We were off to a late start, but traffic was light and we made it to a spot at the Malaquite site with plenty of time to set up camp before it was too dark to see well. Becky had bought two tarps, and we made good use of both, one over the picnic table's slat shelter and one as a rain-/windbreak facing the ocean. That one came down more than once over the course of the weekend, due to strong wind that was not in evidence the night we arrived. A ten-foot bed of washed up seaweed rotting on the shore meant the little gnats were ample, and with no breeze to blow them further up toward the Winnebagos in the parking lot a hundred yards away, we were slapping them away that first night.
Saturday began wet, but that didn't stop us from trying out our floaties in the rain. We both took a nap around noon, but when the sun finally did come out, we were so happy to see it we both went back out on the waves without sunscreen. Luckily, I didn't get too terribly burned, but I'm peeling now and got a light shade of red as a souvenir from the trip. A good shower at the campsite's facilities and we were ready for a few drinks, followed by bed (a very comfortable full-size air mattress).
Sunday began much like Saturday, but took a turn for the worst when I forgot I had the car keys in the pocket of my trunks and jumped in the ocean. We were stressed, and made a few disconcerting phone calls trying to work out how to get a spare from Austin, almost resigning ourselves to another day stuck out there (funny how much you want to leave when you find yourself without the means to do so), when, miracle of miracles, Becky found the keys washed up on the shore. I was napping at the time, but apparently she even did a dance of joy.
Earlier that day, the largest sand crab we saw all weekend crawled out of its hole and nestled in between our floaties, which were wedged between the windbreak and the ground, as we watched. We wondered what he might be up to, and it turned out he was seeking his final resting place. A couple hours later, he was dead, and we tossed him over one of the sand mounds. I told Becky, "One brave sand crab gave his life so that we could find our keys."
There were lots of little sand crabs everywhere on the beach, way more than I expected, and they were amazingly quick, always moving sideways and blending in with the sand almost perfectly. On our several walks over the weekend, we also encountered water crabs (one dead, one alive), a sea worm (very rare to find), and a couple shrimp-like crustaceans the size of insects.
We packed up just in time to avoid getting drenched by a huge thunderstorm just as the sun was setting. On the way back we watched Predator on the portable dvd player and split the driving duties. After a nice, long shower at home, we were in bed by 1:00am, exhausted. Well worth the trip.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Home theater
Is there anything sweeter to a semi-reformed geek's ears than hearing his girlfriend say, "Can we watch all the Star Wars movies sometime?" I think not.
I bought a projector the first week of December 2006 that was supposed to come with a free screen by rebate. We painted the wall for showing movies in the meantime. About a month ago, I got an email that they were finally processing my form, after I'd pretty much given up on it, and today the UPS guy brought it to the house. It's nearly the length of the wall, 100 inches, and I can't wait to put it up.
I bought a projector the first week of December 2006 that was supposed to come with a free screen by rebate. We painted the wall for showing movies in the meantime. About a month ago, I got an email that they were finally processing my form, after I'd pretty much given up on it, and today the UPS guy brought it to the house. It's nearly the length of the wall, 100 inches, and I can't wait to put it up.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Smelling like a rose
I've recently been reminded of the truth of the fact that some of the most poignant memories are brought back to us through our sense of smell. We always had rose bushes around my childhood home, most of them red but one white one on the far side of the house, where it was rarely seen. When I did happen upon it in bloom, it was as fragrant as the others, but with a different smell.
At my current home, we have a white rose bush in the front that is similar, and another one that isn't. When the similar one bloomed about a month ago for the first time this year, I remembered that bush from my youth as I walked by and caught the scent. But even that wasn't as vivid a recollection as one I had in the garden last week. I put down some stakes for the tomato plants, and as I used twist ties from bread wrappers to secure the vines to the stakes, I caught a whiff of their scent and was immediately reminded of all those springs and summers in my father's garden, poking around and playing with the dog as I ran up and down the rows of tomatoes he had every year. It was a very fond memory, and striking in its immediacy.
This evening Phil pulled our first helping of beans off the vine, and the cucumbers and one green pepper plant are blooming now. We ate the beans fried lightly in butter with salt, and they were delicious. I think it's going to be worth all the hard work putting this garden in many times over by the time it's done producing for the summer, and I have a much better appreciation for the pleasures of eating from it fresh now that I've had my first taste. I can't wait for those tomatoes to show up, red and round.
At my current home, we have a white rose bush in the front that is similar, and another one that isn't. When the similar one bloomed about a month ago for the first time this year, I remembered that bush from my youth as I walked by and caught the scent. But even that wasn't as vivid a recollection as one I had in the garden last week. I put down some stakes for the tomato plants, and as I used twist ties from bread wrappers to secure the vines to the stakes, I caught a whiff of their scent and was immediately reminded of all those springs and summers in my father's garden, poking around and playing with the dog as I ran up and down the rows of tomatoes he had every year. It was a very fond memory, and striking in its immediacy.
This evening Phil pulled our first helping of beans off the vine, and the cucumbers and one green pepper plant are blooming now. We ate the beans fried lightly in butter with salt, and they were delicious. I think it's going to be worth all the hard work putting this garden in many times over by the time it's done producing for the summer, and I have a much better appreciation for the pleasures of eating from it fresh now that I've had my first taste. I can't wait for those tomatoes to show up, red and round.
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