Monday, January 26, 2009

Skelecat and Little Richard

This little graffiti (graffito?) made me think of Donnie Darko. Only, DD had a man-sized rabbit and this seems to be a skeleton in a cat outfit.
I've seen Skelecat's partner, shown here below, all over town. At first glance he seems like just one more tortured piece of genitalia juvenilia, but I find that the Sanskrit-like graffiti adds a level of je ne sais quoi.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Obamaaaaaaaah


I ordered a dozen of these delicious treats from Trophy Cupcakes.
Half vanilla, half chocolate, which seemed appropriate.
Change is here, and it's covered in red white and blue sprinkles.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Last night in Dar

I had an opportunity recently to travel quite far, to a place I love, with people I adore.
I had to decline the opportunity, but I’ve been remembering the place, and some of the people, from when we were last together in Tanzania in August.
Our last night at the hostel, we returned from dinner (a giddy gathering over Indian food and surprise ice cream for Babu Bill) – and dispersed to our rooms. I was restless, and made my way through the humid night up to the roof, where you could bring bottles of Kilimanjaro beer from the refrigerator downstairs, sit on a swinging bench and enjoy the view of Dar es Salaam. My dice partners were already on the swing—Matty, a dark-eyed charmer, and Sarah, golden and strong and wistful. With no television or internet and plenty of cheap booze, we’d played Five Hundred and Bastard Brag and Oh Hell every night for nearly two weeks and the card games and the dice had become not just a habit, but a way of understanding each other, and the day, and what it was all beginning to mean.
So we sat in the dark, together on the swing. We talked about dice, but did not play. We looked out over the city, at shacks and palm trees and two-story houses lit here and there with lamps or fires, heard dogs barking, occasionally a car labor by on a bumpy dirt road.
Our last night together, we said sadly. Kevin joined us. Tall, weathered, pragmatic and yet conflicted. A true free spirit. And Eric, quiet and calm. Our last night, we said. If we looked closely enough, we could see across the city to a silvery sliver of Indian Ocean.
Do you hold back, so that your heart is not bound to others’ hearts, to that it doesn’t hurt so awfully when you have to say good-bye? So that when you remember that night, and the days previous, long days hauling gravel and flipping each other good-natured shit, so that when you remember the Nam Hotel and Marmite and carrot plumbing and red knickers, you miss it so much you almost wish it had never happened?
I think you hurtle into it with everything you have. So that you can remember, you have the privilege of remembering and it will be bittersweet, like the very best chocolate.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

White knuckle driving

So in honor of the new year I decided to take a road trip to Port Angeles last week.

And had an encounter with my old nemesis: S-N-O-W.

I'm a white knuckle driver at best. As I drove out Highway 112 it was clear that the snow from Christmas not only hadn't melted much but hadn't really been plowed either, other than two very narrow and slightly-slick driving lanes.

I ditched the Prius in a turnout about 1/4 mile from my turn, loaded up my backpack, my laptop and the dog, and started hiking. Getting settled took a lot longer than usual, and the temps dropped to the mid-20's overnight, but it was a lovely, quiet afternoon and evening, interrupted only by the rattle of sleet against the trailer windows.

Next morning, I woke to snow with a fresh crust of ice. Kind of like a frosted snow cone! It was great fun watching the dog skate around on top of the snow, not sure why his feet were acting independently of each other. Not so fun to finally hike back down to the highway and realize it was a solid sheet of ice. Even the 4WD's that usually zip by like they're in a road rally were creeping along.

I settled in to wait for the sun.







Friday, January 2, 2009

Friday Dog Blogging


Here's the pooch in a furry Grinch hat from Amsterdam (courtesy of my sis).
He's long since given up any claim on his dignity.

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