I'll be watching you

So what's so bad if our personal information is available to the public, government and corporate sectors, you know... things like our shopping habits, vacation history, magazine subscriptions, library and medical records, entertainment choices ... all that stuff? Get a load of what the Bush neoconservatives setting up behind our backs while we're busy living our lives. Forward to 01:21 in this video.

A short, entertaining portrayal of the new consumer environment at 01:21
or
for a peak at just who really have THE MONEY: 1:10:34

The lyrics of this song by Sting are particularly chilling in the information age:

Every breath you take
And every move you make
Every bond you break, every step you take
I'll be watching you

Every single day
And every word you say
Every game you play, every night you stay
I'll be watching you

America: Freedom to Fascism

Dreaming you too

Jerry's ball machine

lamgngo built this very cool machine for his very cool cute little Dachshund, Jerry. The little boy in the video is also very cool and cute. And that's probably his very cool and perfect mom downstairs playing the piano. They are all smart and wonderful and live in perfect world we can only dream about but you'll just have to get over it and join in the fun. Go on. You know you want to.

Jerry's ball machine

02:09

Out the window

Comma Coffee yesterday


I want to do everything at once. That is always a problem for me but, like today, after too much coffee ... things get out of hand. I don't know who directs traffic in your head, but in mine it's a hive of bees. And my thoughts are like bees. Bees directing bees. The things I need to do get lost in the shuffle or, at the very least, deeply resented, like today, after a bunch of bees swarmed the pedals and start peddling. So, what do I do? A blog post.

We have postponed our trip to Central America. Business matters. M. Lee can't go until they are resolved. So be it. First things first and all that. This way we avoid malaria season. Instead, we can look forward to visiting the region during hurricane season. That's what we did last time. I guess it's a tradition. Anyway, I'm not sure which would be worse, chased by a hurricane or a mosquito.

Edible art

Recently I started volunteering at the local (no-kill) animal shelter and naturally I bring my camera along whenever I'm walking with one of the dogs. Last Friday Cookie and I explored this stripped down, shot up, long abandoned jalopy. It's full of nests, one where the engine used to be, two or three on the floor inside, a small one tucked away in the glove box, and big ones under both rear fenders. Cookie ate an old spine she found in one of the nests. Big treat.

Found sculpture

Found art

Another view.

Up close, where the nests are, were. I doubt
the jalopy is a safe place to raise one's young
since humans moved into the neighborhood.

The jalopy smiles.

Not a good getaway car.

Cookie finds a spine.

Edible art. Crunch time.

Acolyte

Reality check

As we will be spending part of the summer in the so-called developing world, I found this snippet via Drongomala a timely reminder of the kinds of places we will be staying. I feel sorry for the tree. It was just having a nice morning then...




"Reality TV" from India

Metacafe

Wednesday outtakes

Yesterday I ate lunch in the Carson City cemetery. I don't know if it's a casino driven policy but Carson City doesn't have a park. I've been in funk lately and, other than the library, the graveyard is the only place in town where a person can sit undisturbed for free. But I like visiting graveyards whatever my mood, puts things back in perspective. Plus tombstones, in few words, tell some interesting tales. Seems, like me, ol' Asa Wilson loved elephants and I couldn't help smiling at his epitaph. His sense of humor transcends his death.

A sourdough's word to wise

Conveniently, the senior center is located just across the street. I imagine over-medicated walker and wheelchair assisted patrons lunching in a dreamy haze, gazing out at the graves. It's an end of the line cafeteria and bus depot to the beyond combined with a convenient thrift store where travelers can check their worldly goods before departure.

Rules for the living

These dogs made my day.

Six dogs in a car

TED

Looking for a little inspiration? Wisdom? Want to be amazed, fascinated, inspired, dazzled by beauty or looking for a laugh? Check out the TED archives. You're in for some fun ...

IQ - education - creativity
TED blog

and much, much more...

Simple truths

Hillary is a dick.

The day that doesn't exist

...or does it? Happy Leap Year Friday!

Black Bird's hat

Portals

St. Charles Hotel:
"the only hotel in Carson that is
lighted exclusively by electricity.
Best $1 a day house on the coast."

As I am not having a pajama day like some around here, know that I am doing this post to avoid doing what needs to be done, that I do not want to do that I, in fact, dread doing but will, after I post yesterday's outtakes.

Carson City alley

If you need more, go and read about the fascinating origin of the Game of Asha.



Okay. That's it folks. Now move along.

Head trip

I'm writing this in an effort to make the upcoming trip more real to myself. Here is the backpack I will be living out of when we tour those countries currently sitting benignly next to it on the table.

This is all M. Lee's doing. I am ashamed to admit the only thing I know about Guatemala and Nicaragua is that there were ... are? ... guys in the jungle with guns. Costa Rica? Next to nothing other than that a Norwegian friend of ours meets his family there every Christmas for a surf holiday. And let see... what's the name of the other book? Honduras. Crap! The thought of going to Honduras freaks me out even more than going to Guatemala or Nicaragua. Well, no. In order of dread, I guess I rank Nicaragua first, then Honduras, then Guatemala. I think my trouble dolls came from Guatemala. And maybe the cool bag I picked up at a second hand store recently. Nice colors. And I suppose bananas grow everywhere, which is nice, but there's still the problem of guys with guns. Hey, minus the bananas, sounds like
good ol' merika.

But I don't want to give the wrong impression. In the spirit of what doesn't kill me makes me stronger, I am looking forward to this although, for starters, I could rattle off about a million things that I might survive that would definitely not make me stronger. Dread. My ever-present shadow. But I also enjoy challenging and replacing brooding myths with new experience. And, for better or worse, M. Lee uses that to his own advantage. Of course, chances are the worst I will suffer is the pain of being back to school, the Spanish immersion classes but, for the moment, the Theatre of Doom is playing old Saturday matinée favorites and I am there, spell-bound, dropping half of every handful of popcorn onto my lap and the floor, fearing the worst for the heroine as she makes her was across the screen dodging bullets and alligators.

Just one of those days

In a rare turnabout, the starlings scooped the mapgies this morning, arriving at the Bird Park early and vacuuming up all the peanut shards before the tuxedo wearing dandies arrived. And it's raining. Looks like Oregon outside with an extra light filter thrown on for ambiance. That's Nevada for you. Like Greece, we got light.

In other local news, I am now officially in training for an upcoming trek through a bit of Central America, I say trek because this time, unlike driving through Mexico in a jeep filled_crammed_bulging with all the things I think I need to leave the house on any given day... laptop, drawing tablets, pens, pencils, camera, books, shoes, boots, various changes of clothes, hats, bottles of water, food, this time we are only taking what we can stuff into backpacks and, once we get there, riding the bus.

I have always admired the people who traipse through countries with backpacks, staying out for years at time, living in hostels and being very interesting and rumpled, meeting up with friends here and there they met here and there, swapping road stories and travel tips over carafes of wine and whatever other exotics go round the circle. We will not guzzling carafes of wine or anything else for that matter or staying out for years, but, like a lot of people, we will be going to language school, Spanish immersion in Antigua, for as long as we can stand it, two weeks, maybe three, maybe more, we'll see, four hours a morning with a one half hour break. Good for the brain. When we get sick of that, we'll hop a bus and travel a bit. But it's the backpack part that I am focused on and must prepare myself for. I claim that the only reason I take a lot of stuff with me wherever I go is because hey, the vehicle is going there anyway so why not, but that at heart I am like the swift wolf who travels light. I claim that. I have two months to prepare myself.

In the course of writing this, the rain has turned to snow, thus ending our February false spring.