Ode to the Desert

I love the desert. The broad expanses of nothingness. The subtlety. A monochromatic landscape from afar that turns into a sun washed spectrum of nuance up close.

On the first day of a desert visit, everything seems brown. Lifeless. Muted. But the human eye demands stimulation, and if one is patient, one will find it. On day two, the desert floor appears greener. The low-lying vegetation, clinging close to the sand sprawling its thin tendrils outward. Desert plants don't have broad leaves and thick plushy stems. The definition of adaptation, successful plants and shrubs play it close to the vest with skinny branches and needle-like leaves. On day three, heralded by birdsong, the early dawn pinkness plays tricks on the land. Tiny shadows form around microscopic ripples in the sand. Footprints straddling a single line show where some small reptile has been; the shadow makes it visible. At high noon, the tracks are invisible. And tiny desert flowers open to sell their wares to any available pollinators.

But, oh, oh the desert nights....

"My" desert is bordered to the west by mountains - the sun sets early. From Font's Point, a high spot on the desert floor that overlooks some badlands, you can watch the sun set. The sun dips behind the range and you'd think the show is over, but it's really just beginning because the sun still has a long way to go before kissing the Pacific. Firy oranges and pinks, corals and peaches paint the clouds. You watch the shadow of the mountain steal across the valley floor, enveloping the small desert town, the golf course, the RV park, and rolling over the badlands towards the East.

The sky turns, in gradations from East to West from pinks, to turquoise, cerulean, indigo and then ink.

And then, by god, it's dark. Blindingly dark. On the Point, there's no ambient light. And the quiet is as noiseless as the darkness is black. A deprivation chamber. You hear the blood in your ears and the breath in your nose. Your heartbeat. Your companion's heartbeat. For a city girl, it can be a little creepy. Who's that driving up? Is it a serial killer?

Then, million by million, the stars begin to poke their little fingers through the night sky, creating holes - small, big, conjoined, clustered - for their light to shine through. Some are too antsy to just sit still anymore and streak across the sky as if late for an interview.

The article below talks about the loss of wildlife and habitat from solar plants being built in the desert. But it doesn't talk about the light pollution from 24 hour operations. The loss of night. The loss of stars. I'm torn. Renewable is good. But isn't there a better way? Panels on every rooftop. That creates self-sufficiency and doesn't put money in corporations' pockets. This feels like the Monsanto of solar energy.

http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-solar-desert-20120205,0,7889582.story

Think I'll go back for a visit before my desert is gone. Maybe Chrissie Hynde can sing a song about the Mojave. That'll make it all better, right?

How's the Weather?

The biggest drawback to being facebook free is not knowing what the weather is doing in the rest of the country. Like I'm gonna tune in to the weather channel?

How to Park Your Car, Lesson 1.

I live in a good size city with limited parking. Parking lots at transit stations are non-existent. In some areas, local conditions are conducive to relatively close parking assuming everyone participates in furthering the common good of close parking for all.

In this episode of How to Park Your Car, we will treat the unique situation of finding close parking along a street in which you are actually driving away from the destination.  Parking participants arrive around the same time so it’s not the hunt for an open spot. 

The general rule is

The closest spot is at the end of the string of cars parked, which is farthest away from your destination.

This rule is important to keep in mind for two reasons

1 – you don’t need to drive 5 mph hoping a parking spot will magically appear before the end of the line of cars already parked, and

2 – the closer everyone parks to each other, the closer ALL participants get to park to the final destination  AND (bonus reason!)  more people get to park.

There is a proper approach to this style of parking. As you can see below, the desired method is to pull past the parking spot and align your car with the curb. Then, reverse slowly (unless you’re very proficient) to within 1 to 2 feet of the car behind you. This will allow the car behind you to exit the space and give you some maneuvering room should the person who parks in front of you decide to kiss your bumper. [not that this is likely, considering the need for this entry]

The illustration below shows the wrong way:

Pull in and only reverse a little, if at all, leaving between 6 and 8 feet between you and the car behind.

When this method is utilized, over the course of 4 or 5 cars, at least 3 parking spots are lost. This is not in accordance with furthering the common good of close parking for all.

Another group participation exercise is two or more cars approaching the same line of parking. The general rule is

The car in front gets the closer spot.

Car A pulls in according to Diagram 2. Car B, trailing behind Car A, then pulls in front of Car A. Car B waits until Car A has performed its complete reverse positioning prior to completing its parking and exiting the vehicle. Otherwise, unsightly gaps appear. Once Car A has come to a complete stop, Car B reverses as indicated in Diagram 2.

In NO circumstances should Car B try to scoot in behind Car A in the gap that Car A has temporarily created while performing proper parking methods.

There will be a quiz next Friday.

© Kestrel, 2012

Morning Observation

Eating large lentil burgers laced with kale two meals in a row is not recommended.

Poof.

Day 2 without facebook?

It's easier than I thought.

I miss a friend who operates her page like a salon, often asking questions of a personal nature and seeing how people respond. It's always interesting and her friends are sharp and thoughtful, too. One of my favorite things about her is that she changes her profile picture every day. Whether it's a funny cartoon, something of historical or current political significance, or a photo of something or someone from her life, I'm always interested to see what the next day will bring.

If she were to deactivate her account, all that creative intelligence and insight would be zapped in an instant. I couldn't go find that picture she posted on August 23rd - you know, that funny cartoon with the whale in it? poof.

The 30 comment threads on the first album you bought. poof.

Or, in my case, my brief announcement that I was withdrawing from facebook for the 29 days of February. If you missed it, it's not there any more and maybe (hopefully?) you're wondering where I am and what happened to your scrabble game. poof.

If you were off busy having a life and my little two line status was too far down in your queue and you didn't scroll far enough... poof. It's gone. I didn't un-friend you (what a weird word). I still like you.

So my pictures are gone and my status updates and my notes. poof.

I'm not sure if my snarky comments on your posts are still there. I think I'll talk to someone in real life and find out.

Bumperstickers....

When political bumper stickers are taped to the inside of a car window, it's the equivalent of a vote of no confidence.

Facebook Free February

I've deactivated my facebook account for the month of February. Maybe longer.

I was definitely hooked. Facebook can be a nasty habit. But there's more to my month long abstention than my little web addiction. (see? Here I am blogging. except HERE, I know no one is reading it...)

I joined facebook to reconnect with old friends and stalk former high school classmates. C'mon. Doesn't everybody? And reconnect I did. College, high school, former co-workers, old neighbors, childhood playmates and their neighbors...

My dog has her own page.

And three years ago, facebook was definitely more personal. A few businesses had pages, but mostly it was people telling funny stories about their day, or their kids. It was a personal connection. A pithy turn of phrase, a string of puns. Fun exchanges.

My dissatisfaction began gradually. I realized I was voluntarily being advertised to - inviting spam into my "news" feed by "liking" businesses. Sure, I "liked" the business, but it doesn't mean I care if the business owner walked her dog that morning and it had a runny poop. So now, while I "like" hundreds of businesses, 75% of them have been hidden from my basic view.

And friends started posting less about themselves and more links to articles (which are interesting, especially when good discussions follow) and even more links to music videos and such.

I began feeling like I was putting out pieces of myself to the great unknown. Did the recipients care? Did they value my sharing of myself? Did they hide me? All I felt was, they weren't reciprocating. Sure, I'd get a few good comments on some posts - sometimes from left field - people I was certain weren't reading my stream. Others could be counted on to comment on *everything*.

Often I wanted to do a weeding post - HELLOOOO! Are you reading this? and delete everyone who didn't respond. But then I get scared that maybe no one would respond. And then I'd be a facebook loser.

But I knew I had people who followed me because they'd say something to me about a post even if they didn't comment. The Lurkers. And those are the ones I'm most disillusioned with. I added them as friends as an extension of our friendship. To enhance our friendship. So I could learn more about them and they could learn more about me. But it all felt very one-sided, with a few wonderful exceptions.

I have a few gems on my friend list that I've grown to know much better through facebook. And they're the reason I'll probably go back on March 1st. They keep it interesting, and I hope I give back to them in the same way.

Keeping in touch in a post-facebook February will take a bit more effort. I'll send more personal emails (letters??!) and maybe even pick up the phone.

Crazy talk.