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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Tonight's presentation is sponsored by the shade Bright Fig Purple.
Peace in your face.
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Marlow
Sport climber
OSLO
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Change is everywhere
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Dude, your very own genre!
Tripix.
Ich bin trippin.
Change in the ocean, change in deep blue sea
Well there's a change in my baby, but there aint never no change in me
Now, change my shirt, you know, and I change my money
I change my woman just to keep from actin' funny
Change my numbers on my door
So my baby can't find out where I live no more
Change in the mountain, you know, change in the land
But there ain't never no change in me, baby, 'cause I'm a natural man
Yeah, everybody they ought to change sometime
Because sooner or later, mama, you gonna end up in some lonesome ground
Yeah, everybody they ought to change sometime
'Cause you know, sooner or later we gonna end up in in some lonesome ground
[Click to View YouTube Video]
Sam Cooke/A Change Is Gonna Come
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nOYuhLNwh3A
Rock On
To shift body weight from one foot to the other.
Swap Feet
To exchange feet on the same hold.
Hand-Foot Match
To place a foot on the same hold as a hand.
Ich bin trippin auf den Felsen und auf den Zapfen.
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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Viana do Castelo, Portugal
Not Viana do Castelo, Portugal
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Ees piano do Mickey.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
Smooth Jazz/Scott E. Zimmermann/The Toy Piano ("real" keyboard, duh)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=75gURxkLp-c
[Click to View YouTube Video]
Jane's a Third Rocker, remember. She may not be one of the Rhondettes. It's hard to say with the big hair wigs.
[Click to View YouTube Video]"I mean, I'm sorry about the lab animals, but statistics prove that most guys prefer skinny girls with cancer over healthy girls with bulging thighs."--Rhonda
I never had to change from sugar to substitutes. I have just eliminated refined sugar from my diet as much as possible. A change everyone should think seriously over.
My mother's good buddy Bunny was a Virginia native. Everyone was "Sugar" to her. She mixed a mean Bloody Mary.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Watched "Marie Antoinette" last night - only because I found the disc in an apartment I turned. I could handle the bad acting and bad music because the costuming was awesome! But we all know what happens in the end, and to rob your audience of the beheading after suffering through this banality was just too much. Meh.--from MisterE's facebloke page
I was just today given a copy of Edmund Burke's Reflections on the Revolution in France (1790 & following).
There are no pictures, period.
What ever happened to their heads? Were they interred with the bodies? Morbid thought, but one which will bug me till I find the answer.
Bright fig purple is a good, solid, natural color. La reine Marie-Antoinette ought to have used it more in the palace wallpaper. But she was not one to hide, was she?
How would Bill Graham have introduced her to the Fillmorians?
[Click to View YouTube Video]
He called Janis a "broad." But she was also a queen. They are all princesses, according to an old one-armed Mexican gardener who enlightened me once upon a time. But he led me down the garden path with that one.
Esos cambios! Estos cambios son el asesinato!
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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"Click to enlarge" significantly enhances some of those shots above and makes it easier to locate the bird on a wire.
I was looking high, I was looking low.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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THAT'S a big change! Commando-style.
The former Governor has changed. Or has he? He's been forced out of office and a marriage both. This interview is really pretty funny.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ze6IzOAXB6Q
I am looking forward to seeing The Last STand.
"I never took a salary."
He never really quit acting, now, did he?
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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I was wondering just what might be the All American Food.
But what about Father's Day you ask?
It was good fer your father!
[Click to View YouTube Video]
Just then a bolt of lightning
Struck the courthouse out of shape
And while everybody knelt to pray
The drifter did escape
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Quite a reaction from CV's resident ice man!
Gimme that gnu time religion.
Gimme that amall-time religion.
http://americangallery.wordpress.com/2010/03/30/van-arno/
Gimme that All Time religion.
Yes, the Pope will always be Catholic, but someday bears may be ordained.
Whattya thinka that, Walter Brennan?
Some change for the offertory basket might do you good, too, I betcha.
Lighting a fig-urative candle, purple in color, bright in flame, for Old Grampa McCoy, the star in the TV series of that name.
Dillis Millis could do McCoy like nobody, hitch-in-the-git-along and the voice and the lip movement, sorta like Elvis' but not so flagrant. I have never seen Sgt. York all the way through. Do the Germans escape from the POW center, or do they form up under Col. Clink's father, causing no end of problems for Major Hogan's uncle? I smell sit-com potential...
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Talk about changes...
Mouse got to do some climbing today.
Not conventional ROCK climbing, but I got off the ground, like that goose, only far less powerfully and not nearly so gracefully. I felt good and in fine shape, regardless of dripping blood (only kidding).
I messed around on the Santa Fe (okay, Burlington Northern but it's weird saying that) crossing on the Chowchilla River. It's an ancient trestle. There is a modern concrete highway bridge on Santa Fe Road next to it. Across the way is a horse ranch, the Lazy K. so far we have encountered the Flying M Ranches and the Walking X, both just north of Hwy. 140. This lies approximately fifteen miles south, maybe a bit less.
Later, nearer to sunset, I went up an old windmill stand which was minus the windworks; the pump shaft was still locked in place, though you can't tell that easily from ground-level unless you have eyes like a young guy; and just the old rotten platform was left, barely attached, that I would never try to get above, mainly cuz it's stupid, and second, there's nothing to hold on to when you stand on the platform, even if it does hold your weight, which it wooden. There was plenty of opportunity just below the actual summit (As if that's why I climbed it--NOT!) to take photographs of a higher order, possibly, but at least on a higher plane.
NOSSIR! I wasn't bagging summits today. Why is another think.
It's still there is why I climbed it. It won't be for long, I am thinking. These mills are getting rarer and harder to find. This one and its tank are now outdated, big-time. The opportunity was gold, I could not refuse, trespass is only a misdemeanor, it could be my last chance to climb one.
I have climbed several for Ike's Pump & Drilling.
How else can I answer: Besides fun, it's quite thrilling.
Not only are windmills a rarity now, but the range is shrinking, as you can tell by the numbers of pistachio orchards, which are following the path taken by the almond growers, who followed the walnutters. I imagine all these crops go back millennia to the Persians and earlier, seeing as they are growing in a dang desert.
A question had formed in my mind on the drive this evening, This place is a desert, but what is this water source for pistachios? It was soon answered when I climbed down from the windmill stand. Just prior to my climbing the windmill stand, about thirty minutes after the last landowner asked me to take my nosy butt out of the place where I was parked looking at the plains' vast empty (he was mellow), the fact is that I came abruptly to this eight-inch pipe lying ready to be laid in the earth and a huge pistachio planting and I got out of the Red Roadent and heard the sound of a large diesel motor. It could only be irrigating, I thought, since the plastic lines among the trees were full and dripping and dropping like it was March or April, not August.
Where's the water source, I wondered? I got a (terible--fergeddaboutit) shot of the sun behind a tree, then drove a bit and came on the windmill. I went only a short distance down Baxter Road from where the windmill had been. And then I found the water. It's in two very large above-the-ground reservoirs, each the duplicate in size of the other. Twin Ponds, I'll call them--West Twin and East Twin, though they look not at all alike--one's older with larger woody objects, the other has much younger ones planted for arosion control, to prevent the squirrels from killing the ponds, whcih they will if not checked somehow. (Blasted Scuridae are almost as bad as Vogons.)
I drove there next, not realizing what I'd been looking at from up in the air. A levee with trees on top! My gosh! I took the short roadish section up to the top and parked. And, if you count the fact I got the car up there on the levee, about fifteen feet up, I'd judge, above the trees, at any rate...that's another climb today.
Bogus, I know! But trifectas are nice. The fact is, I did get to see the view from way above the trees and did get to take photos of the Chowchilla River from a much more "interesting" POV than usual. And the Twins is a quiet spot in the center of (with the exception of a diesel motor in the distance) quiet acreage and has a terrific view of the good old Range of Light. I'm looking forward to shooting wintertime photos from that vantage.
I still don't know from where they are pumping water into the Twin Ponds. I'll be seeking answers to that shortly. I have it from the director of our museum that there is supposed to be a canal, with a long flume built into its length, someplace in the area carrying Merced Irrigation District water all that way to south county. It carries water over an arroyo, just like the one in the bridge thread that I posted a while back. Just not quite as high as the efforts of the old Roman builders in Campagna. Not even close! We got what we got. Thank God for enough water for luxury crops like pistachios.
Peace statues are out, pistachios are in.
Peace on your nuts, cams, and your climbing partner. But not the rope.
This has been an earnest attempt to document change as I am seeing it. I won't be viewing much after a short span, but you can never tell when, only if, so...
I have one last concrete example of how change occurs in our automobile-ridden and -driven society. This mini-plant is on the 99 at Arboleda Drive exit. They are putting in a new off-ramp. In Hitchhiker's Guide it would be a bypass.
Peace-tachios on the Vogons.
Vogon poetry is, of course, the third worst in the universe.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8JJH7ZL_Fk
There are presumably few large woody objects to avoid in outer space. And I've not picked up but one hitchhiker on all of these road voyages, because he's the only one I saw! BELIEVE IT OR NOT!
Talk about changes...
zBrown, at least pistachios aren't an All-American food. That would be a grave mistake, I think, to label anything which may have originated in Iran an All-American food...
Parting shot.
Does anyone know about this corporation? Google's link begins by saying, "Establishes and manages wetlands and wildlife habitat through mitigation banking and public and private restoration projects. California, USA."
This section is at the corner of Santa Fe and Marguerite Road, south county.
Mitigation, eh?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mitigation_banking
Sounds good on paper.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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A change may do you good.
Or it may seem to do you good.
Lookin' all cone-headed there, which is not good or bad, just different.
But that smile?
Just not the snappily dressed guy, are you, Brownzie? Get hep! It helps. And dress sharp. I'm calling the kettle fat, here, and my tongue is all the way in the right cheek My right cheek. My actual face cheek. Anyway, a change of wardrobe can be very effective medicine.
BEAU BRUMMEL AND REGENCY FASHION (not Beau Bridges, not Sonny Crockett)
Beau Brummell was a middle-class Englishman with social ambitions well beyond his income. By the time he gained his inheritance and moved to London in 1799 he had managed to infiltrate the highest level of society and developed a close friendship with the Prince of Wales, the future George IV.
However, it was financially impossible, not to mention socially unacceptable, for a man of Brummell’s station to mimic the opulent garb of the upper class. Thus he set out to perfect the more affordable look of the country gentleman by combining his impeccable sartorial tastes with an impressive physique for displaying them.
Brummell's artful strategy was to elevate the common drabness of country attire to a refined minimalism. He replaced the bright colors previously favored by the elite with a limited palette of dark coats and plain, light-colored waistcoats and pantaloons. Patterned waistcoats were traded in for monochrome versions, frilled shirts were replaced by plain styles and lace cravats were superseded by starched linen neckcloths.
Brummell also imported an understated military and equestrian flair to his wardrobe to emphasize the wearer’s physique and authority. This was done primarily by adopting the tailcoat – a frock coat with a skirt cut away at the front for easier wear when riding – as his coat of choice and enhancing it with skilful tailoring to suggest broad shoulders and a trim waist. Below this his muscular legs were emphasized by the wearing of light colored pantaloons – tight-fitting ankle-length trousers held in place by a strap under the foot – which disappeared into knee-high black leather riding boots styled after those of the Prussian military.
The end result of these innovations was an ensemble vastly more regal than the ill-fitting apparel of the country squires and sans culottes that originally inspired it. It was subsequently adopted by the haut monde as the meticulous Regency wardrobe seen so often in Jane Austen film adaptations.
[Vintage Jim Bridwell photo here.]
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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For all those Merced ballwhackers, the CV Little League team just up the block won thew World Series a few years back. Now the team to the east about six miles just won their first regional game 16-2.
Perhaps not in the same class as Richardson-Vicks, but that sure looks like a Wilson glove there.
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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And this is all happening in which county?
More fasteners in a more civilized (apparently San Jose) area.
Borderfield State Park along the heavily militarized southern border.
Paint balls? Are shotguns ok?
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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That's okay, cuz large woody objects are known to punk out when you least expect it.
Remember to count the links, don't trust landowners' pit bulls, and be sneaky as hell and try to act innocent when confronted.
From the looks of the signs (thanks for the hilarious share, man--coffee-out-the-nose time!), no one's shooting THEM. There be balls the size of big woody objects between your legs.
Trespassing Butte is apparently close to a felony, almost. Maybe a capital misdemeanor? Hang you high from a large woody object's arms.
I've always thought that the design on an old belt buckle was cool. It incorporated both the roots and then the branches in a vertical motif, of course. And Norwegian's up in the branches, Ron's down below on the ground, but who is that dude under the ground in the roots?
Kobayashi-san! From the Tree Hous of the Angst Moon! May I have your autograph?
http://japandailypress.com/japanese-tree-house-architect-takashi-kobayashi-arrives-in-los-angeles-for-us-debut-2223876/
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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As nearly as I can tell, the freeway is going to be extended from where you can see the car all the way over to the wall on the left at about the level of the existing freeway. This is some of the work on the $1.4 billion project that also includes a high speed high frequency bus system running from Tijuana through Chula Vista and National City (my hoods) to downtown San Diego. I was wondering what the ridership would be.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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I want to lay this on you, TT, that I have not actually been threatened by having a piece of weaponry pulled on me for anything. But it's what I try to avoid.
The unavoidable means you are truly cast at the mercy of the land man. He usually responds in a business-like way, being a manager, not some tweaker. This is not something I've encountered very much but maybe three times.
One took place on Sheep I. in San Pablo Bay. It's a private bird hunters' preserve, members only, etc. I may have told this one, but Scott and I were on a short break from the NF factory and we rented a misery boat, as it turned out. the wind died completely. Hot and still. We were not able to start the motor (1 hp Gull outboard POS) so we drifted up onto the rocky beach. This was an inflatable cat. We had the guy come out in his rig, a golf cart, naturally, equipped with not one but two shotguns and a holtered sidearm. He saw our trouble, said he was ex-cop and did us right, gave us stuff to jury the spark plug, and a tool to use on it; on our way back into the bay very shortly, but the right pontoon still leaked. Slowly we paddled, steering back the way we had to go. Sundown saw us fagged, but we made it back to where we'd started. the Gull did not fail again, it simply was under-powered.
Another time Tim and I were cutting up downed black oaks in the lands below Donner heading to Blue Cyn. The land owner came by in his own wood truck and said stumpage is what you think you can pay and still make some extra. Mr. Blevins was his name, from Grass Valley. He was in the process of removing the trees, most of them, to develop the land for homesites. No harm, no foul, he and we both made out. A rarity, I'll bet.
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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Now that you mention it, I did run into a very hungover looking Don Johnson on Sunset Blvd a couple of blocks east of here about 5:30AM on my way to work. Never met Belushi.
You may or may not believe this. Remember some folks call Gower Street an Avenue.
http://www.ghostwhisperer.us/Main/Marmont.html
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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That's right, duck and cover, low-flying aircrap.
[Click to View YouTube Video]this one's for Dennis Oakeshott.
Dennis and Millis went up the hillis,
Climbing the Salathe clean.
Dennis asked Millis to stop, simply chillis.
It was quite a comical scene.
If I were Bruce Willis, I'd have clocked Millis
With my crag hammer's nicely-formed peen!
Ypee-ki-yay, Uncle Jimmy Weldon!
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