Hey, kids. As you've likely guessed by now, I've pretty much tuned out of LiveJournal. Life with the Librarian and the Boy remains mostly great, though the ranging career remains a self-flagellating struggle. I hope you'll catch up with me on Facebook, or at least with the Boy on Twitter. Please send a private message for details.

I didn't realize until some time after, but when my car got burglarized last year, the thieves stole not only my valuable amplification and CDs; they stole my car's soul. Since the burglary, that car cannot keep a power steering belt in one piece, it cannot keep a driver's side rear tire inflated, and now it cannot even manage 30 miles per gallon. But before any of that, the CD player stopped working, which meant I have listened to NPR even more than usual for the last several months.

Since the 2008 election that would eventually bring Democrats to control both the legislative and executive branches of our federal government, NPR has asked cocksucking Republifucks some glorified variation of "how do you feel?" or "what will you do now?" or "what do you think?" You know what, NPR? I don't remember you or anybody asking non-Republicans what they thought or what they wanted for the six years the Republicocks used the complete control they had over the federal government to rape and pillage this country and this planet and ruin everything for everybody but themselves and the fuckers lining their pockets. You know what, NPR? Republicans can shut the fuck up! They had their time. Those pieces of shit can spend another six decades in the political wilderness. I don't give a shit what they think, and I certainly don't want to hear about it every fucking day. Report on anything else. I'd rather hear all the inane minutiae of credit default swaps - again - than the yammering of the selfish bastards that would ruin this world for everybody but themselves.

On a related note, I'd like to see a lot less of Democrats reaching across the aisle. Republishits had six years to show everybody what they could do, and that pretty much boils down to pure evil and a lot of not reaching across the aisle. This country will never move left if the left keeps moving right. Democrats: knock it off, and I just might vote for you. Republidicks had six years to advance their agendas unobstructed; instead of continuing to advance their agendas, how about you label them obstructionists and actually do some good for your country?

My apologies to any of you who have missed my active contributions to our conversations and communities; 2009 has gotten off to a mostly great start, but it has kept me too busy and worn-out to write or comment as much as I would like. I have at least skimmed all your posts in this time, and have particularly wanted to comment where some of you have either made brilliant points or expressed great joy or sorrow, but I can only say that I kept you all in my thoughts even if I didn't say much.

As you might imagine, much of my business has had to with the Librarian. I still have a half a Humboldt trip to share with all of you, not to mention day trips to Bodega Head and the Monterey Bay Aquarium. We spend more days together than not, and that has meant way too much driving between Menlo Park and the kooky San Geronimo Valley, and way too much time and energy diverted into that driving. We have decided to find a new home together. We may end up on the ocean side of San Francisco (where the Boy's Mom has recently relocated [by the way, I have finally gotten to "cool" with her - that bodes well for everybody, I think]) or just south, close to the Librarian's library. We hope to find ourselves within walking distance of the ocean, but we'll have to see. Wish us luck!

In other news, the job at Muir Woods that I thought I had through May will only run through the first week of April unless I can enroll half-time in classes. This bureaucratic oversight has irked me much, but might not amount to much if certain online rangers-only classes will count (awaiting word on that before I sign up for the online history of underwater basketweaving and ukulele lessons). While I - grr - had planned on getting an advanced degree at some point, I had hoped to wait for the Boy to start his schooling before starting up again myself; but if going back to school keeps me employed in the place and line of work I love (and gets me a position with a higher wage grade), this just might amount to the shove I need to get that degree done. I have some hope of stringing together positions at different sites within the Golden Gate National Parks for the summer, and I know that if that falls through, I can at least resume my hellacious commuting to Point Reyes for another summer (having lived just 20 minutes' drive from there the whole time I haven't worked there).

While I don't foresee a ton of free time in my future, I do still hope to finally get myself to Yosemite ahead of summer's crushing crowds, I'd like to do something special for the Librarian's birthday (09 May), and I have decided that nothing will keep me from Anonymous Jess's wedding in Duluth (03 July). Hopefully, all of that can happen, and I can make it back to this journal enough to bring you all along for the ride.

I wish all of you a very merry spring!

My father died 21 years ago today. That means I have lived three-fourths of my life remembering him rather than experiencing him directly. Time has healed much of the hurt; as I noticed this day approaching, I realized in conversation with the Librarian how my memories of those short seven years profoundly continue to influence my development to this day. On this anniversary, I feel more gratitude for that time with my father than anything else. May my memories of him continue to shape the man and father I will be for decades to come.

Ten years in California probably deserve a real post, but they certainly deserve a photograph in the very least. Yay, me.

As the Librarian plucked ingrown hairs from my back last night, I decided we had moved beyond "new couple" status.

Everybody can be great... because anybody can serve. You don't have to have a college degree to serve. You don't have to make your subject and verb agree to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love. -Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Bay Area citizens showed their greatness today at Muir Woods, weeding, sweeping, flossing gunk out of boardwalks and tossing boulders around the Hillside Trail. I felt honored to lead a number of volunteers from the Coast Guard in boulder-tossing. What a beautiful, inspiring day - what an uplifting way to leave the BushCo disaster behind!

MLK 2008
MLK 2007

I ended up wearing the same Spongebob underwear for the duration of the trip, and I bit my cheek at dinner.

Other than that, I couldn't have had a better trip Up North with the Librarian.

Before we had even arranged our first date, the Librarian and I had discussed introducing each other to our respective special trees in some far-off fantasy time. Imagine my delight then, sometime in early December, when she agreed to head up to Humboldt with me to meet my trees, my waterfalls (there ya go, fuggler ) and my people (there y'all go, gwynny  y synchronaut ). Between our illnesses and holiday commitments, we felt as though we'd waited forever, but now, I feel fortunate to have made ambitious wishes come true so soon after wishing them.

Despite a realistic itinerary, our very vacation-y attitude toward the trip only got us to half of what we planned, but I wouldn't have had it any other way. On our way up, we stopped for lunch in Willits and for fun at Dora Falls in northernmost Mendocino County.


We arrived just in time to check into the historic Hotel Arcata (the Librarian's Mother [and by extension, the Librarian] has a thing for the historic) ...


 ... acquire beer, cheese and toppings for make-your-own-pizza-night with gwynny  y synchronaut , and then actually partake of said make-your-own-pizza-night, where somebody else actually took our picture for once (thanks,synchronaut )!


After a hearty session of Apples to Apples, a thoroughly crashed gwynny  signaled the end of the evening; I gave the Librarian a brief auto tour of the alma mater before calling it a night in anticipation of our only full day in Humboldt.

The clawfoot tub called to us in the morning, replacing the six-mile Gold Bluffs Beach/Fern Canyon/James Irvine/Clintonia/Miners' Ridge loop and putting us at Mill Creek Falls late in the morning ...

 ... and Trillium Falls at midday. Recent rains left little droplets which shimmered in the sun, producing piercing colors that changed with the viewpoint. Of course, we couldn't photograph that, so deal with these:


The Atlas Grove, College Cove, hot tubs and Humboldt Redwoods to follow when I find myself awake and available. Stay tuned.

The prolonged chills of this lingering illness have turned me into Mr. Rogers. I immediately swapped my coat for a sweater (well, Patagonia fleece, but still) and my Keens for slippers upon returning home this evening. Now before you worry too much, I was singing a different kind of jaunty tune: "Rumors of War" by High On Fire. But still.

2008, you just couldn't let go without one final boot in the ass, eh?

- If you celebrate something, Merry That!

- I started this LiveJournal thing a touch over two years ago. Merry That, too.

- I can't believe I forgot to mention that the Librarian and I have plans to head up to Humboldt where we will meet more remarkable trees, not to mention waterfalls, beaches, tidepools, gwynny  and synchronaut . Very Merry That.

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• she stands 6'0" - a noticeable two inches taller than me; between that and the hair, she tends not to get lost in crowds - so much for landing the petite, unassuming woman I had expected
• I do have six months and six days on her in age - so much for landing the slightly older woman I had expected
• she grew up on Maui, graduated high school in Tacoma, obtained her undergraduate degree in English and theater at Oberlin College in Ohio, summered a few summers at a summer camp in Michigan, traveled the British Isles on a work visa, lived in a cooperative in Chicago, earned her master's degree and library and media science at Rutgers University in New Jersey, and moved in with friends in Menlo Park (California this time) this spring to enjoy proximity to her brother and new niece in Oakland
• she handles the juvenile and young adult responsibilities at a public library further up the peninsula, where she "increases the awesome" for her patrons; this apparently includes baking, crafting, organizing Halloween pageants dressed as a sexy, witchy librarian and putting on rock concerts - decidedly neither the library nor the librarian of my juvenile or young adult memories!
• she loves the Pacific Ocean and unique trees as much as I do, putzes on trails as much as I do, and wonders at all the same simple things that I do - different light on different surfaces at different times, scintillating wordplay, memories of little things mentioned only once, and more
• she describes herself as "private" and "a bit of a lady;" and especially as she now reads this journal, expect that I will keep a few things to myself - sorry, pervs! ;)>

I am dating a dreamy librarian, hereafter referred to as the Librarian. Please reply letting me know whether you'd like to hear more about this. I may consider tackling filters and creating one if it seems reasonable, but don't bet on it.

As part of the process of getting my life back together, I've made a conscious decision to step down the amount of energy I put into stewing over politics; this explains part of my relative silence in the past few months. But I could not let the following bullshit pass without comment:

"A spokesman for the [Mormon] church, which moved some of its services to other locations Sunday because of the protest [over the church's lobbying on behalf of fag-hating Prop 8], said Mormons have been unfairly singled out.

'We don't normally get involved in anything political,' said Don Eaton, who directs public affairs for the church in most of the Bay Area. 'However, on certain things that are considered moral issues, we do get involved.'

Eaton said calls for boycotts amounted to discrimination[!!!] and doubted such a strategy would be tolerated if it was aimed at another major religion. 'We're an easy target,' he said."

Funny, I can think of another group who feels "unfairly singled out" and frequently made an "easy target." But the fact that the queers have not systematically oppressed anybody fucking ever or meddled in Mormon bullshit fucking ever makes the plight of the poor, oppressed Mormons taking a ding in their tourism economy (like that wouldn't have happened this winter anyway, you assshits) ring a bit fucking hollow. Mr. Eaton, how do you not see that your cry of discrimination exactly mirrors that of the queers, whom you have just unfairly singled out and picked off as an easy target? Fuck you, you hateful fucks. Jesus Christ.

But wait, we have more:

"Campaign finance reports show Idaho residents contributed more than $400,000 to a Web site-based campaign in support of banning gay marriage in California."

Okay, you welfare-ranching sheep fuckers: you can never complain about us faggot Californians meddling in your business ever again. I will rub this in your face every fucking time. By the way, you all would fucking starve if California didn't feed you, so you might want to start kissing some serious ass if you like to eat, because I will cut you off when I get so sick of politics that I have to take over. And yes, fuck you.

The Boy and I wanted to take in some local redwoods after voting on Tuesday, so we visited Roy's Redwoods Open Space Preserve just up the road past the polling place. I just expected to enjoy a few big trees and a bit of walking with the Boy before losing too much daylight to stay out, but the hooting started the instant we got under the big trees. I tried to show the Boy how to call owls (like I even know how), but he preferred instead to shout, "Hey! Owls?" His tactic seemed to pay off; I decided to turn around on a whim and saw two owls fluttering through the moonlight behind us. We got to watch them for what seemed like a few minutes before they disappeared into the woods. Minutes later, the hooting disappeared as well, but not before making a lasting impression on us. The Boy and I will probably make regular twilight visits to Roy's Redwoods for years to come.

... though it didn't cost you much of anything.

I had gotten all excited about my government-issue rain pants when I ordered my winter uniform, but on Thursday's dry run, they seemed like more trouble than help. So, when the rain fell in earnest on Friday, I convinced myself at 8:30am that between the cover of the redwoods, my rain coat and my wool pants that I could eschew the stupid rain pants. By 10:30am, sideways-Humboldt-rain had soaked through to my Spongebob boxers and I had to go commando in my Gore-TexTM rain pants for the remainder of the day, which at least proved considerably more comfortable than one would think. In short, I recommend the rain pants.

I suppose that, having one of them weblog things on this here Internet, I've got to drop at least one Monty Python quote, so there. I include it to put your minds at ease: the story lies not in my wound's severity, but its stupidity.

While slicing my cheese with a knife (like a real man), I thought to myself, "I sure hope I don't slip with the knife and cut the fingers on the other side of the cheese." Which, of course, I did. No pain at first, but some blood, and some throbbing after cleaning and bandaging. The experience reminds me of the one David Cross so eloquently elucidated of knowingly locking one's keys in an automobile, powerless to halt the process even as the light bulb comes on.

Fakegoddammit.

Officially, I'll turn 28 in about four hours. I'd just like 27 to know that it can fuck off and die and never come back.

That said, I feel pretty good about this birthday - what better way to mark new beginnings than with one's own special day? I'll work at a job I love in a place I love, head over to an Ethiopian restaurant I love to dine with the people I love most, including the Boy, who will come home with me and spend a fun Tuesday with me.

But now, off to bed, and hopefully to sweet dreams of naked former co-workers.