time to ponder

...time to ponder...the past...more importantly the future...

Spring cleaning, Spring fever

Loretta and I got outside yesterday and enjoyed the nice weather. We enjoyed it by mowing and edging the lawn (I actually did the mowing!) and giving the Harley a good Spring cleaning.

The break in the rain patterns was short-lived as it is raining cats and dogs this morning (Saturday) and is expected to continue for the weekend....but, Spring is here.

Spring Fever? Well, when I was in radio I used to make note of it every year and use it as fodder for humor on my radio show. Of course, the humor may have been a subjective thing...as I recall, I skirted the fine line of off-color as often as possible. Scientists and other scholarly types related so-called Spring Fever behavior as something based on hormonal changes in humans. After spending the winter sequestered in the old cabin, we ventured outside when the weather changed from rotten to nice. In the animal world, this signaled the time to "hook up", to find a mate and propagate the species. It has been happening since the dawn of time.

In the human world, there are other things to consider when Spring has sprung (like taxes, spring cleaning, and weight loss programs), but the primal urges are still there. The hormones begin to flow a bit more and we homo sapiens transform. It isn't coincidental that weddings are most often in the Spring and early Summer. Please note that most babies are not born nine months after Spring...statistically they arrive nine months after Winter. Those long, cold, dark months in the cabin produce most offspring...humans would typically have to wait until Spring to tie the knot! It's all good.

Be that as it may, Spring is here...and I don't really feel the Spring Fever thing anymore, maybe it just hasn't arrived in me yet.

More accurately I think it is a hormone thing at my age. Let's face it, when I was 24 years old the testosterone was flowing much more freely than it is now at 56! I don't care how macho a guy you are, it's a function of nature and old age...if you are over 50, you are at least a quart low by now.

I do believe that a reduction in testosterone brings about an equal rise in the level of cynacism one has about life. I know this may be a generalization. It may be a totally inaccurate statement...maybe it's just me. I just don't feel it anymore...that Spring Fever thing.

So, in my case, I must work on it...I must make a conscientious effort to pull out of the Winter Funk (that's my term for the opposite of Spring Fever). Winter Funk has traditionally been called Cabin Fever. Since most of us don't live in a cabin any longer, well...you get the idea. So, we must venture out into the surrounding forest...soak up the sun's healing rays...hunt for something to eat...forage for building materials to repair the nest...burn off that winter fat...clean the Harley, start it up, and get on it!

And, if time permits, grab hold of your mate and kick start what hormones you have left. Afterall...she has hormones as well!

"Honey...have I told you I love you yet today? How 'bout a ride...on the Harley?"

God Bless America

...or, if you're not into that:



May the Force Be With Us.

Top shelf

I was encouraged to snap a photo of the inside of my fridge for a utata flickr group post, "What's in your fridge" thing. So, I did.

I attempted to get at least one of our three dogs with their nose stuck deep inside, something that they all do on a regular basis...except when you want them to! Couldn't get the angle or the canine cooperation in line. Wouldn't you know? Murphy's Law of Photography.

But I did get a decent depiction of the state of our fridge right now. The middle and bottom shelves didn't really deserve recognition. Not only were they a little disorganized, they were a little sparse. But the top shelf is now, and has been for a week or so, quite full...and I thought it required a bit of explanation.

Working left to right, starting in the front row:

Ricotta cheese, for my Sopranos/Baked Ziti premier, the Ziti dish was also a premier for me.

One of those "fun size" cans of Diet Dr. Pepper, a 6-pack of which purchased for my step grandkids visit the other day, I was hoping to sneak by the 'diet' version and it seemed to work, they had no problem downing the stuff with their grilled cheese sandwiches.

Whole milk, zowie, a 56 year old with whole milk in the fridge? The rationale: works best for making bechamel, light or skim just doesn't cut it here.

CoffeeMate Hazelnut non-dairy creamer, not a bad choice here, Loretta must have it in her coffee or will not drink coffee.

Orange juice, lots of pulp (grabbed the wrong one) for making our orange vinaigrette dressing, and an occassional glass of vitamin C.

Skim milk, purchased in a fit of guilt to go on breakfast cereal (and not used after one try).

Cranberry juice cocktail, another purchase in an attempt to lose weight and get away from Diet Pepsi (which is stored in the door shelf btw).

Cran-Apple juice cocktail, see previous Cranberry juice explanation.

Behind all that, you find a large Kikkoman soy sauce, must not be without that in my fridge.

Catsup (or ketchup), a staple anywhere, don't you think?.

And, dill pickels, salsa, some sort of abandoned drinkable yogurt sludge, and another bottle of catsup (the old one where we haven't bothered to get the last of it out, vintage 2005).

Like I said, the middle shelves need some work. The drawers have a lot of veggies including a science project or two and bottle of Friday's Pina Colad mix. The door shelves house most of the other staples and some things that need thowing out as well (like very old green olives, old capers, old ginger, etc).

All in all, at least our fridge does not resemble the one Tom Cruise found after his eye transplant in Minority Report...but it is time for some attention...I'll get to it today...or tomorrow. The dogs did get near the fridge is our attempt to get them to stick their nose in it, ie, 'cute photo for utata post'...maybe they know more than we do in the olfactory sampling department...ya' think?

I think something may have moved under its own power in that first drawer while we were taking the pictures...I'll check the other photo.
I'm quite certain the asparagus may be toxic.

Worth another visit...or two.

Most certainly, Monterey and Cannery Row is worth another visit...or two, or three. We recently spent the day and night there and were immediately caught up once again in the ambience and history of this interesting area.

But more than just the present incarnation of this old seaside fishing village is the draw of some popular literature born of Monterey. One of the most remembered is the book, Cannery Row, by John Steinbeck.

It may not have been his most read novel, but it is one of his most noteable, being that one can still walk in his footsteps where all those exquisite words were conceived. A person can stand on Seaside Ave, or Wave Street, or Foam Street...and gaze down onto the "Row" where many of same buildings reside from whence John Steineck looked upon them and wrote his little book. Much of it is still here:"...the smell of kelp and barnacles when the tide is out and the smell of salt and spray when the tide is in". Many of the old rusty tanks and pipes and railroad artifacts, some which sit where they fell sixty or more years ago, are part of the scenery of Cannery Row to this day. John Steinbeck's Cannery Row was written and published in 1945...it holds up marvelously well today.

I pledged to buy a copy and read it after I left Monterey two weeks ago...I held true to that pledge. And even though I have only been reading it for two days, I have become fully engulfed in the Monterey of that era. It is a fictional novel, bringing us characters like Lee Chong the grocer, Doc, Dora the madame, and Horace and Mack. Taking us to places like the grocery store, Dora's stately whore house The Bear Flag Restaurant, Doc's Western Biological...the docks, the tidepools, the flophouses and bars. Having read it the first time in Junior High or High School, it's all new for me again. The thing that impressed me most 40 years ago? The fact that it is less than 200 pages long! Cannery Row is a quick read, but packed with a witcism and jounalistic sense that set Stenbeck apart from some of his contemporaries.

Just a reminder...other John Steinbeck books? You may recall The Grapes of Wrath, East of Eden, Of Mice and Men, Tortilla Flat. He was born in Salinas, just a short spin through the canyon inland from Monterey.

Revisit some of his works if you get a chance. Cannery Row can be read in a day without any outside interruptions. For anyone getting a chance to visit the west coast, don't miss a day or two in Monterey...and Cannery Row. The Monterey Bay Aquarium is one of the highlights now, many great seafood restaurants, and, of course, the coastline and Monterey Bay itself.

But when you do go there...at sunset, breath deep a sample of fresh, California sea air...Steinbeck did, a lot...then wrote about it, "Cannery Row in California is a poem, a stink, a grating noise, a quality of light, a tone, a habit, a nostalgia, a dream...". I did. And I'll be back again with my camera...and write about it. Maybe not all of it will be the truth, but I'll write about it. Afterall, Cannery Row, the book, is fiction...right?

Carmela gets a Porsche!

Well...it's March 13th. That means March 12th has passed, and so has the premier of The Sopranos.

After almost two years gone by, we're back into looking forward to Sunday evenings with a vengeance (pardon the mob style adjective).

The producers and cast of The Sopranos have been promising edgy(er) scripts, "a lot of movement", and some surprizes...last night's first show didn't disappoint either one of us. In fact, the 'cliffhanger' ending was somewhat mindblowing (Tony getting shot by his uncle Corrado Soprano in a fit of dementia)...wow! Of course, we're 100% confident that Tony will survive...there are approximately 17 more episodes left to go between this season and next.

Loaded with several new additions that just appeared out of nowhere (with many more to come), Season 6 should not fall short of our expectations: a new baby (Janice & Bobby), a train set in Bobby's garage, a Soprano crew steps to the forefront (then abruptly hangs himself), the appearance of Adriana (in a Carmela dream sequence), a much thinner Vito, the Stugots II, and on and on.

Loretta and I settled down at 5:45 pm with our plates of Baked Ziti, glasses of wine, and Sopranos paraphenalia and were given a very satisfying fix of our favorite show. The Ziti was good (my second attempt at making this traditional dish), our dogs didn't bug us for an hour... and The Sopranos, Season 6 got underway with a couple of bangs, some blood splattering, a smidgeon of underhandedness, a suicide, a severe street beating, lost dentures, and the wounding of the main character. What more could we ask for? Not your cup of tea? Whatevah! Watch something else...or don't watch anything. For us, it made the premier of that polygamist, Bill Paxton show which followed, Big Love, unwatchable. In fact, we didn't even plan to watch that...it just didn't hold any appeal...so we didn't watch it. Fagedaboutit!

BTW...Carmela did get a new Porsche...the Cayenne SUV (another gift from Tony)...but a Porsche!

One of my favorite lines from last night's show: "Is that a catheter?"

Deadwood, Season 3 premier: this June.

Ho! Are we obsessed?

I don't think Loretta and I are really obsessed about The Sopranos.

We are definetly Soprano Fans, watching every episode over and over again...sometimes switching back and forth between those confusing HBO East, West, and "P" feeds. Sometimes simply catching the same episode on HBO - E, then again three hours later on HBO - W. Afterall, the word 'fan' is derived from the word 'fanatic'. So, for the last two years or so, we've caught every episode, again, from Season One...up to and including the last one from Season Five...the one where Tony trapses back home from Johnny Sack's (Sacramoni) house through the snow, ice, and streams of Newark after Johnny was pinched by the feds. His coat sleeve torn, shoes soaked with water, pants dirty...Tony climbs over his backyard fence on that overcast, cold winter day...taps on the sliding glass door and Carmela let's him in with the last line from Season Five, "What the hell happened to you?!"

So now, tonight (Sunday, March 12th) at 9:00 pm, the premier of The Sopranos, Season 6...finally! Evidently, there are 12 episodes this season, and 7 episodes planned for 2007 (Season 7, the final one). Loretta and I have been watching this HBO phenom for many years. We didn't start watching it until the beginning of Season 2. Why the late hookup? Don't really remember. We kind of stumbled onto it one Sunday night, "Hey, Loretta...let's watch that Sopranos show...I hear it's pretty good". After one show, we were both hooked...thus the start of our obsession, uh...fanaticism.

I ordered a couple of Sopranos items from the HBO "store" on-line (the visor and ballcap in the photo). I've even practiced making a batch of Baked Ziti in preparation for the premier tonight. Yes, we will be wearing the caps and eating Baked Ziti tonight!

There are a hundred reasons why we enjoy the show. I suppose there are hundred reasons why some people don't watch The Sopranos: unfamiliarity, morals, children in the house...no cable. In fact, we know of not one person in our little social realm that watches this program...not one. Or, not one who admits to it. Even my beloved sister, Kris, admitted to me recently in an email response...I had referrenced my similarity to Tony Soprano's demeanor, personality, and self-esteem issues..."I really don't know who Tony Soprano is, we've never watch it...so I don't know what you're talking about". Ho! Get outta here! My daughter, Jen, though is a huge fan of The Sopranos (she lives in Seattle, so we will be partying 'together' in absentia).

We also happen to be big fans of several other HBO series: Deadwood and Six Feet Under...the latter, (sadly) may it R.I.P. I'm trying to think of what we can do for the premier of Deadwood Season 3 (don't know when that will be)...wear a cowboy hat, not shower or shave for a week or two, get some really cheap whiskey...buy a horse? I'll keep you updated.

It's 11:00 am...time for me to start the Baked Ziti process...I don't want to be messing around with it when the show starts.

Ciao!

2 - Hey Nineteen!

Naval Recruit Training Center, San Diego, California...June, 1969.

The 4:30 am wake up call was abrupt, noisey, and brutal. Hardwood night sticks being banged against the metal, gray-painted steel frames of the old bunk beds. Smacked and rattled on the partly rusted frames by a few over-zealous, barely-out-of-boot camp teenagers assigned to get all of us new arrivals up and on the road to our new adventure, the chipped and dented sticks continued their obnoxious rhythm until every bed in the old barracks got its share.

“Alright you slimey fucking pukes”, bellowed one of the teenagers with a stick, “Get your swingin’ dicks up and dressed...you got 5 minutes!” One of his buddies switched on the lights...yellowish, incandescent bare bulbs that bathed the barrack’s bunk room with an eerie, inadequate light. I rubbed my eyes open, trying to focus on what was going on...and where the hell I was. Forty or fifty guys about the same age as me started rolling out of the bunks, some stumbling aimlessly for a moment or two until the reality of it all began to sink in. A few remained in their beds, still asleep after all that racket. I pittied them for what was about to happen.

The stick-wielding fellows went one by one to the guys still asleep and dragged them out of their bunks by their clothing, throwing them on the worn linoleum floor. Each one receiving a generous dose of swearing and name-calling as well as an order to, “Keep your puke ass on that floor and give me 20 (pushups) you morons. Did you think you were gonna sleep in? I ain’t your momma!” Every once in a while, one of them would place his foot on the guy’s back and slam him back to the floor in mid-pushup. “Faster...I ain’t got all day!”

This denegration went on for a minute or so, giving the rest of us time to get dressed, take a leak, and pack our bags. This would be the last time for several months that I would put on civilian clothes.

Just then, one of the stick guys screamed at the top of his lungs, “Attention on deck!”, and snapped to a stiff, upright stance with his hands straight down at his side, chin up, eyes straight forward.

Since none of us knew the meaning of that command, none of us really knew how to react. Attention on deck? What the hell is that? I glanced toward the door at the end of the bunk aisle. And there, standing in the doorway, hands on his hips, unfiltered Camel cigarette hanging out of the corner of his pursed lips...khaki, long-sleeved tunic, brown billed cap tilted back on his head, and medal ribbons from his shoulder to his shirt pocket...stood the “Chief”.

He was same Chief that I saw briefly on the bus at the airport. He just stood there, staring down the middle of the barracks. With his cap tilted far back on his head, you could see that he was bald on top with whiffs of blondish grey hair combed back over each ear. He wasn’t a large man, he was quite short, maybe five foot six at the most, 50-ish...but with an imposing look on his wrinkled and freckled face. On the foresleeve of his tunic were six diagonal black stripes. I found out later that each stripe represented four years in the Navy. The brass anchors on his collar were a “Chief’s” moniker. The black emblems on the upper sleeves had three chevrons down and one up, another sign that he was a high-ranking enlisted man. The crossed anchors in the center revealed his was a Bosen’s Mate, the “worker bees” of a ship...the guys that did all the dirty grunt work, the scrubbing, the cleaning, the scraping...the shit jobs. This guy was an old “salt” who had probably been through a lot in his twenty four plus years in the service...and he didn’t look happy right now.

The Chief slowly reached up to the corner of his mouth and removed the last vestige of the unfiltered Camel cigarette, still burning, it had an inch long ash on it...the ash didn’t fall off. He gingerly held it over the galvanized trash can at his side by the doorway. Then reached down into the trash can and pressed the butt into the side with his index finger, extinguishing what was left of it, then letting it go into the can. His unhappy look had now turned into a scowling grimace. Shaking his head from side to side, he just muttered, “Jesus fucking Christ!”. Then knelt down to a squat, pulled up one pant leg, and removed a pack of unfiltered Camel cigarettes from his left sock...removed a cigarette and stuck it in the corner of his mouth without parting his lips at all. He stood up, reached into his pants pocket and pulled out an old Zippo lighter, flipped it open with one hand, spun the flint wheel, and lit the unfiltered Camel hanging from the corner of his mouth. The tip of the Camel glowing bright red in the dimly lit barracks.

The stick guys who woke us up stood still, at attention by his side. The rest of us did the same, no one said a word. We all just stood where we were when the Chief showed up in the doorway, quiet, not moving. There wasn’t a sound in the room.

The Chief sucked further on the Camel, at the same time replacing the Zippo in his pants pocket...he made a military spin turn on his right foot, and existed the barracks the way he came in...a large vortex of cigarette smoke engulfing his head and shoulders as he disappeared out the door. And he was gone...for now.

With my eyes wide open now, I could only utter one word to the guys standing near me, “Fuck!”

What had I gotten myself into? I would find out soon enough.

Blasts from the past...my Top 20 (33 actually).

Well...here goes. An attempt to list my favorite songs of all time. Keep in mind that I have been around for more than half a century, I may be dipolar, and I surely have A.A.D.D....oh, and C.R.S.

Since most of us more mature folk don’t have the old Top 40 type a.m. stations that we grew up with anymore, there really is nothing recent here...considering there hasn’t been much to listen to recently anyway...that’s not much of a revelation.

I’ll attempt to limit it to twenty songs. And, they are listed in no particular order...just my Top 20 favorite songs. The critieria: I can listen to them over and over again. I consistantly go back to them on a regular basis and never really get tired of them (existing on at least one of my iPod Favorites Playlists). For example...I didn’t include “Layla”, Derek & the Dominoes...for the simple reason that I indeed get tired of it (especially the long, drawn out ending), and...everyone and his dog has used it for their T.V. show, commercial, or a movie soundtrack, ie, “Goodfellas” (one of my favorite movies btw). Over-exposure is a good factor in the editing process.

In The Air Tonight (Phil Collins)...Tell Me Why (Beatles)...How Long (Ace, Paul Carrack)...Surfin’ USA (Beach Boys)...If I Fell (Beatles)...More Than a Feeling (Boston)...Bluebird (Buffalo Springfield)...Feel A Whole Lot Better (Byrds)...All You Get From Love Is A Love Song (Carpenters)...I’m A Man (Chicago)...One Fine Day (Chiffons)...Born On A Bayou (Creedence)...49 Bye Byes (C.S.N.)...Don’t Start Me Talkin’ (Doobies)...Light My Fire (Doors)...New Kid In Town (Eagles)...Funeral for A Friend/Love Lies Bleeding (Elton John)...Cold Day In Hell (Gary Moore)...Crackerbox Palace (George Harrison)...We’re An American Band (Grand Funk)...No Time (Guess Who)...In The Shape Of A Heart (Jackson Browne)...Never Die Young (James Taylor)...Midnight Man (James Gang)...Cherry Bomb (John Mellancamp)...You’re Sixteen (Johnny Burnette)...House At Pooh Corner (Loggins & Messina)...It’s A Long Way There (Little River Band)...You’re Still The One (Orleans)...Toussaint l’Overture (Santana)...Deacon Blues (Steely Dan)...Refugee (Tom Petty)...Behind Blue Eyes (Who).

Looks like I went past twenty songs (33 in all). The alternative was to go to forty songs and I opted not to do that. I may as well do the Top 100 with my musical interests (another time, another blog). Some of these were so-called hits, many were not. I also realized that all of these selections are from big name, recognizable groups. There is a sizeable handful of songs that deserve a list of their own, ie, One Hit Wonder Songs That Should Be On My Favorites List...coming soon to a blog near you. I'll work on it!

I never get tired of listening to these tunes. Some make me want to sing, some make me want to play air guitar or air drums...and some just make me cry.

A few precious hours in the footsteps of John Steinbeck.

Loretta and I did one of our 24 hour whirlwindish jaunts overnight this past Sunday. We made the 140 mile trek to Monterey in the family truckster (actually a Grand Cherokee). It's a relatively pleasant drive through Pacheco Pass, San Juan Bautista, Highway 101, then Highway 1 along Monterey Bay to Seaside, then Monterey and Pacific Grove. It is so much more than I can describe in a few paragraphs, and suffice to say that a 24 hour turnaround does not do it justice. But, we got away from Modesto for a while and had a great time!

We spent the night in the modestly adequate Holiday Inn Express on Wave Street, conventiently located within a five minute walk to Cannery Row and a ten minute walk to Fisherman's Wharf (north and south respectively). We've done this scenario to Monterey on previous occasions with our friends Sue and Gene (as with this one). They are fun to be with and this time was no different. We eat, drink, shop, and relax without a major agenda. In fact, we bring our own portable pub and snacks to kick off the day immediately upon arrival and check in at the motel...Bloody Marys for Gene and I...the girls opted to wait for the $3.00 margaritas on the wharf later.



Loretta, Sue, Gene, and I set off for Fisherman’s Wharf...a little shopping (Sue was in search of some nautical things for a re-decorating project), a cocktail or two, and some lunch. The latter two were found at the same joint: Isabella’s Italian Seafood and Steaks. Now, since some of our culinary tastes lean toward the extremely conservative side (and we were all on a modest budget), this place lent itself well to our food agendas. Isabella’s has a nice, bar and grill type menu for lunch. I would have really preferred an all-out, grilled local seafood offering, but went with the flow and ordered the Fried Calamari appetizer with a garlic aioli. I also thought it very judicious of me to completely avoid the bread plate placed down in front of us upon being seated. Considering all the Bloody Marys and Margaritas I had (and was going to embibe), it wasn’t that much of a concession...I may as well have ‘gone for it’! Loretta was good and bad here...she ordered the Iceberg Wedge and bleu cheese dressing, only after whoofing down most of the bread plate slathered with some short of infused whipped butter. Gene got the Seafood Gumbo, which we had both sampled at the front door before entering the restaurant. Most of the establishments on the wharf have some sort of chowder/gumbo hawker planted at the front door extolling the virtues of their award-winning seafood soup and offering samples....kind of a Times Square-like peep show guy with food...and, of course, free samples. The samples, by the way, are served up in small, disposable plastic souffle cups sans any kind of spoon or other plastic untensil...one must actually try to turn the souffle cup up to one’s mouth at a 45 degree angle and kind of suck it out. Those of us with upper lip facial hair always go away smelling like, well...chowder for the remainder of the day (despite any attempts to wash it off at the nearby drinking fountain)! Needless to say, some of the chowders are very good and some of them are embarrassing...either left over from Friday (we were there on a Sunday), or just plain recipe-challenged. At that point, I was reminded of an old restaurant addage, “Never have seafood on a Sunday or Monday”. Truthfully, the Seafood Gumbo at Isabella’s appeared to be fresh, new, and was very flavorful...a nice tomato-based gumbo that didn’t taste like flour. Sue got the Cheesburger...nothing spectacular save for the homemade french fries doused in some sort of parmesan and parsley salt. Three of us washed down our lunches with the ever-present-Sunday-afternoon $3.00 margaritas offered at many of the wharf joints. Only this margarita was a real margarita...on the rocks, lime juice, a little triplesec, and a good amount of tequila, served in a ‘gentlemen’s’ highball glass. Nice! No shitty Sysco margarita mix here, not blended, and with a very upfront presence of that agave stuff...you could actually taste the tequila! All in all, Isabella’s is very nice place to dine on the wharf (full views upstairs of the harbor and Monterey Bay) with an attentive waitstaff and simple menu. We plan on going back sometime to have dinner at sunset...I’m sure it would be a great experience for anyone’s Monterey visit.



I hadn’t originally planned on this blog entry being a restaurant review, but thought it necessary since it was one of the highlights of our short stay.

We walked and shopped and chatted the next few hours, venturing back down to Cannery Row and making our dinner plans (details forcoming at a later date). Then, returning to the motel for a short nap and watch the start of the Oscars. After dinner, we ended up at the Monterey Plaza Hotel (the nice and more expensive place to stay) just a stone’s throw from the Holiday Inn Express. There, we had a cocktail, watched the end of the Oscars, and ran into a couple of friends of Sue and Gene.

After a restless night...none of us slept very well...we got up and headed to the All American Cafe for breakfast (another forthcoming blog review). Sue and Gene headed home, Loretta and I deleted our plans for the aquarium and drove up Seaside Avenue to take some photos in Pacific Grove. Just across from the Green Gables Inn and Seven Gables Inn, the bike/walk path continues along the edge of the ocean with spectacular views of crashing surf, seals, sea birds, Monterey pines, and...Monterey Bay. This is where one would pick up the world-famous “17 Mile Drive” through Carmel, indicated on a small sign with a small arrow: 'Scenic Drive'...another time for us.



It was supposed to be raining when we got there on Sunday...it only rained overnight. It was supposed to rain on Monday...but it was sunny and warm as we headed back to Modesto. The rain clouds blanketed the foothills along Highway One across the bay from Pacific Grove, providing some nice photo opps for yours truly.



We always ask each other, “How can we live so close to this place and not visit more than once a year?” Sure, you gotta pay for a motel (ours was $119, the off season rate). Sure, you gotta drive for two and a half hours. Sure...you just gotta go! What a super place to have in such nearby proximity? We’ll go again...much sooner between visits next time.



I can’t even begin to explain why we haven’t been to Yosemite in the 8 years we’ve lived here. Yosemite is only 75 miles in the other direction from Modesto.





Another time...another place.




I'm re-reading Cannery Row starting today.




Monterey is waiting further exploration and photos.

"God knows that I love my music...!

My Music!

My daughter Jenifer has been into music since she was a baby. In fact, I truly believe she was influenced by music while still in her mother’s womb. Let’s see...she was born in late 1979, so her mother and I were listening to songs by The Beatles, Boston, Loggins and Messina, Billy Joel, Little River Band, The Doobie Brothers...I could go on and on. We were both radio disc jockeys as well, so the music was going non-stop for most of the day (and night). Jen was inundated fetally (is that a word?) from the git-go. On Jen's blog you will find music-based entries almost on a daily basis. For the most part, her interests vary as much as mine do. ‘Coldplay’ has been a favorite of hers for several years, but she usually lists the Beatles as her all-time most favorite group. At 25 years of age, stating that a group from the 60’s is your favorite is quite a statement to her maturity I think. She also likes The Doors, The Stones, and a few other mega acts from that era. On her list you’ll also find Foreigner, The Doobie Brothers, Santana, and many others from the 70’s and 80’s...groups that reside on my list as well.

My musical background (the short version) is as follows: Several years of accordian lessons at a very young age (my Mom envisioned me as the next Lawrence Welk), guitar since I was 12, and drums since I was 15. Like I said, that’s the short version and I won’t elaborate on my levels of accomplishment at this point...but I will say this...I stink!

Below is a list of my favorite groups/artists. Other than the Beatles being number one, in no particular order. I will do another blog entry with my favorite songs (a much harder list to compile) at a later date. The criteria for my favorite groups: they must have had at least 5 big songs, thus eliminating ‘One Hit Wonders’, some of which will appear in my favorite songs list later. And, I must listen to them on a regular basic, often singing along with and/or playing Air Guitar or Air Drums to. With over 4000 songs on my iTunes/iPod program, it’s a tough call editing them down to a list even this size. Here goes:

The Beatles The Doobie Brothers Little River Band The Rippingtons Phil Collins Santana Eric Clapton Steely Dan Loggins & Messina Poco James Taylor Jackson Browne The Eagles The Carpenters Foreigner Chicago CSN America The Beach Boys The Doors Boston Creedence Three Dog Night.

Being afflicted with C.R.S., I may have forgotten 10 or 12...or 20!

Peace...Love...(Drugs)...Music.

It's been a long time...

I recently located an old Navy friend of mine on the internet. It had been about 10 years since I 'spoke' with him via email, so it was time to attempt another connection.

We haven't seen each other since the early 70's shortly after we got out of the service. He is from the Pittsburgh area, Neville Island specifically...but has been residing in New Jersey and New York for a numbers of years.

We had a few things in common back then. One of which was photography. He is now and has been a professional photographer for a long time. We would have discussions from time to time about certain photographs and argue whether or not a photographic image was actually a 'photograph' or just a 'picture' (or was it the other way around?). We even played in a band together for about 10 minutes while stationed in the Bay area and Hawaii.

One of the other common denominators we shared was the Navy (where we met) and the exotic locales we found ourselves in from 1969 to 1973. After about 14 months of Navy training we both landed, literally and figuretivly, in a patrol squadron in Hawaii. A short while later we deployed (twice) for tours in the Philippines, Thailand, and Vietnam (among several other Pacific destinations). When it was all said and done...and after more than 2500 flight hours, including about 750 hours of combat flight time...we were mustered out of the Navy and went our separate ways. That's the short short version.

If you get a chance, visit his website...he is a very talented artist...always has been.

Nice to hear from you Edward J. Carr, aka, Eddie, E.J...or just plain Ed...drop me an email from time to time.