This post is not here, so don't read it.

I've tried not to say much about my ex here, but you know? This is my freakin' web site, and I said I put it here to vent a little. So? Here it is is, 3:45 am, and I woke up feeling irritated and couldn't get back to sleep. I've been sensing a push from my ex to have her boyfriend be more involved with Annie's life. When Annie talks to her mom, she usually wants to do it on the speaker phone. I typically go outside when they are talking, but the last couple of times I've had to be in the vicinity of the study, and heard bits of the conversations. A few nights ago, I heard Annie's mother say "you should have what's-his-butt teach you more Spanish". Granted, she didn't call him what's-his-butt. Last night I walked by the study to hear a male voice talking to Annie. I paused to determine what was going on, and discovered Annie relating her day to what's-his-butt on the phone.

Yeah, I know. It's perfectly natural for Annie's mom to want Annie to like and have a relationship with the boyfriend. I guess I still find it a bit insulting that a person could leave a relationship under the premise that she just didn't want to be "domesticated", and then move in with someone else and decide to be "domesticated". Flake.

Oh well. The coyote's are howling, and the local owl is hooting, which is quite soothing.

Be sure you haven't read any of this...
She's already got a father

Geez. I need a hair cut. I have curly hair that does exactly what it wants, whenever it wants. In particular it likes to spread out behind my ears when it gets too long. This is God's way to negatively impact my control freakiness. God is supposed to be omniscient and omnipotent. Well, he is also infinite in the ways of humor: he is omnihumorous. God spends his morning coffee laughing at how my requirements for control of life are negatively impacted by my hair. As my hair gets long, it grows wings that are either angel wings or devil wings (you decide). It spreads over my head in a way that in normal days I can control to some extent. But, in times of wind, motorcycle riding, or just getting up in the morning, it's a little strange. After a day of work, I generally look like this when the hair gets long:

Pardon the five-o-clock shadow, and I hope you don’t see the nose and ear hair that is apparently a genetic inheritance (thank you, Dad… I love you, anyway).  Yes, I need a haircut. But why does a haircut have to accentuate the gradually receding hairline? As you may see, the hair grows best on the neck, the nose, and the ears. How is that the better way to handle age? Where in genetics was it determined that this was necessary in the aging process? I’m freakin’ 35. Why does my forehead continue to elongate as I get older? Oh well. My hair shags around in its own fashion that covers my age degredation, but I have to do something to it to get it to behave. Granted, it’s not what most women have to go through. I run a brush through it, and it’s pretty much done. But when it gets long like this, I get up in the morning looking like...well, this. Granted, I could look like like someone I respect less… Oh well, it’s just a trip to someone that will ultimately make me look bald. You know, mom, that this is genetically your fault…

Wondering why hair in my nether-regions doesn't fade like the hair on my head...

Before last night, I spent two miserable nights with my friend Insomnia. I woke up around 1:00 am, and tossed and turned for the next five hours. The night before last I just gave up and started reading. around 3:00 am. When I would try to sleep, I would doze just long enough to start having the wierdest dreams. Six times in succession, I was walking around (generally in a different place each time) to find my fly was open. This probably stems from the fact that my 501's have a tendency to unbutton at times. In my dreams I had become so used to it, I would just fix myself no matter who was around. I would awake from other dreams after having witnessed someone doing something that infuriated me, and then my blood would be pumping and sleep was pushed even further away.

Last night, I went to bed shortly after 9:00 pm. I figured I might as well aim for four or five hours of sleep. Sure enough, it hadn't seemed I'd been asleep for long before I awoke. I was a bit groggy, and shifted my pillow apprehensively to see what time it was. The alarm clock has huge numbers on it, a feature required by my bad eyes before laser surgery. The numbers took shape in my foggy brain, and... sure enough: it was two something. No! Wait! It was five something (stupid blocky LED numbers). I had slept for about eight hours... that's eight straight hours, not eight hours over a couple of days! With a smile, I rolled over and went in and out of sleep for another hour.

The reason for my sleep and lack thereof came in an e-mail this morning...

Dude!

I'm really sorry about the past few nights. It must have been a bummer not getting any real sleep for a couple of nights. You see, the Tooth Fairy, Santa, the Easter Bunny, and a bunch of others got together the other night and we sort of had a party. We were knocking back this wicked brew that the Fairy Godmother concocted, and Father Time was ripping some awesome Stevie Ray Vaughan tunes on his guitar. Mother Nature was a little tipsy, and was putting on quite a show dancing on the table. Well, I kind of lost track of time. I left for a little while to do my job, but didn't want to miss anything, so I sort of had to... you know... skip a few people on my rounds.

Anyway, I'm back now, and will try not to let it happen again. We got our frustrations out, you know, about our outsourcing worries (the SandAmigo works for a ridiculously low price, and doesn't have to deal with the environmental controls on sand harvesting).

Well, I'd better get some shut-eye. I should be by tonight.

Later,

- the SandDude SandMan

Jerk. Why is it so hard to get good service these days?
Rested

My apologies to friends and family back east (Californians consider everything east of California back east). Today is absolutely beautiful. Maybe this is why the cost of living is so freakin' high out here. I'm showing 90 degrees in the sun, which contrasts with the remaining two strands of Christmas lights that I haven't climbed onto the roof to remove, yet. Everything is green and vibrant. If it makes you feel better that means that the green and vibrant grass is about two feet tall... If you are dealing with the cold and wintery weather, at least take solace that I deserve at least something to go well. Life is a four-legged stool. You can survive adequately if three of the legs are strong. Actually, the one time I milked a cow it was on a one-legged stool, so maybe you only need one leg to be strong?
Satisfied with the legs that are not broken...

My trip to the orthodontist was much more pleasant than last time (last ortho post). I really don't like to be rude, and was having problems telling the receptionist that I absolutely didn't want the moron again. To make matters worse, I'm terrible about names (not that the Moron ever told me her name). Fortunately, as I stumbled with my words, and said "that person over there and I just don't seem to mesh well", the receptionist nodded and said she understood. I recognize that I'm a bit demanding. I ask everyone to be the best at being themselves, and I try to do the same. This is probably where my friend Veronica attacks me for being too controlling, but that's me. I'm too old to change. At least too old to change quickly. At 35, I figure half my life is alreay behind me. I have other things to work on now. Like being single... an a parent... But I digress...

The lady who worked on my braces today was cool. She was nice, polite, and apologetic when she injured me. The doctor came over and confirmed what I already suspected: my jaw structure is such that it is going to take a long time to move my teeth. Maybe we should just extract my teeth, and let my jaws break the food. I think they could do it. Anyway, she had some new ideas to try to bring my teeth into alignment. All I wanted when I started this adventure was to extend the life of my teeth. I didn't know it was going to be a journal article... again. (When I was five I had some disease that paralyzed me from the waist down, and they were concerned it would move up my body. With help from my sister, who pushed me delicately, I learned to walk again in record time. Supposedly, it was written up somewhere by somebody.)

So, as much as I hate to floss and brush my teeth a zillion times a day, I now have a spring between a couple of teeth. Yes. A spring. This miracle device of technological advancement is intended to pull some teeth to make space for the problem child. One of my molars just refuses to move. In fact, it apparently rejected the wire the last time I was in, which is why I was in such pain. The wires shifted and protruded into my cheek. This is why we shouldn't bow to vanity. God uses Karma to punish you.

Ultimately, I'm going to be in braces for a while. I don't know why that surprises me. Every time I decide to do a project, I set a timeline, and never meet it. When I first went to the orthodontist, the doctor I spoke to said it would be about a year... a little longer. It's been months, and my teeth haven't budged. Looking for the silver lining, at least I don't have to pay for the really expensive tooth-rebuilding procedure for a while. Maybe stock will recover by then.

God, please don't let Annie have my jaws/teeth...

Long in the tooth, but harmless as can be...

The weather has been amazing lately. As a consequence my office has moved. You didn't believe me when I said I had a great job? This is my office when the weather is good...

I have my computer, my phone, my calculator, my notebook, my secure access card, and any books that I might need. The redwood tree behind the computer is a great back rest, and I listen to nature all.day.long… God, I love my job… And I’m productive, too. I call in to conference calls where I pace the deck while listening and giving my two cents worth. I’ve spent the day doing circuit analysis, and answering e-mails.  There was a good reason that I went to school for ten years…

Very happily employed...

UnAssociated Press- Boulder Creek, California

The House is Mostly Clean

A source in the Hockanson home informs us that the house is virtually clean. The source refused to give a real name, but only released a code name: Lilo. He claims to have witnessed said cleaning from the top of a black recliner. According to the source, the owner of the home has been methodically cleaning and organizing the main rooms of the house. The kitchen is clean, including the difficult to clean Jenn-Air cooking area. The floors have been swept and vacuumed. The sheets on the bed have been washed and cleaned. Trash and recycling has been removed to the soon to be condemned garage.

In an unprecedented move, not only have an incredible number of laundry loads been processed, but they have been put away immediately following cleaning. The informant indicates that the laundry continues to be pushed through as fast as possible, and believes that there is a chance it will all be complete tonight.

Also of interest is the removal of cobwebs. There is some concern that the daughter will miss her pet spider(s), but hopefully will not notice their absence. While dusting has been kept to a minimum, the house seems to have all appearances of being clean, right down to freshly scrubbed kitchen sinks.

It should be noted that the study, play room, and daughter's room are still a chaotic shambles.

Bookies across the country are giving unfavorable odds that the cleanliness will be maintained for more than three days.


In unrelated news, ecologists believe there is a reversal in the global warming trend due to reports that hell has indeed frozen over...
It's a start...

My Immortal
by Evanescence

i'm so tired of being here
suppressed by all of my childish fears
and if you have to leave
i wish that you would just leave
because your presence still lingers here
and it won't leave me alone

these wounds won't seem to heal
this pain is just too real
there's just too much that time cannot erase

when you cried i'd wipe away all of your tears
when you'd scream i'd fight away all of your fears
and i've held your hand through all of these years
but you still have all of me

you used to captivate me
by your resonating light
but now i'm bound by the life you left behind
your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams
your voice it chased away all the sanity in me

these wounds won't seem to heal
this pain is just too real
there's just too much that time cannot erase

when you cried i'd wipe away all of your tears
when you'd scream i'd fight away all of your fears
and i've held your hand through all of these years
but you still have all of me

i've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
but though you're still with me
i've been alone all along

when you cried i'd wipe away all of your tears
when you'd scream i'd fight away all of your fears
and i've held your hand through all of these years
but you still have all of me

It's just a song...

That last two days have been very busy at work, and only moderately productive. Fortunately, there is a Russian saying that I like very much: the morning is wiser than the evening. At least I think it's Russian. I got it out of a Russian fairy tale that I used to read a lot when I was little. Anyway, after the stress of work, I'm now sitting outside on my dilapidated deck with my coffee and my computer. There is fog in the valley, and the birds seem very happy to have a break from the rain. Alan the Rooster is voicing instructions for a new day, and reminding me that they need food and water. The majestic redwoods tower up towards the foggy sky, but blue is peeking out in places.

When friends and well-meaning others puzzle over my choice of living environment, I just smile and think of my mornings on the deck, or even late nights with a canopy of starts overhead. When I lived in town I thought the stars had been mysteriously removed from the heavens. Well, except the ones that moved all the time, which turned out to be airplanes. It's not that I like being so remote from people, I just like being surrounded by nature. It's great to have the deer walk up to the house. I even like the coyotes that venture by, and one time we had a bobcat in the trees. I could do without the wild boar, though. He made a mess of the hillside. He left when I dug a ditch in one of the yards for a water project. I don't think he could stand the competition...

You see, I'm not looking for happiness as such. I think happiness is temporary, just as I hope sadness is. But peace is a feeling that can stay with you constantly. It's very peaceful here. Also, not having lived in town much, I have trouble finding ways in suburbia to encourage creative use of Annie's innate curiousity. There are so many things to investigate...

Fortunately, her interests have changed since she was a baby. She used to crawl around on a blanket in the garden during planting season. The blanket was too boring, so she would crawl/roll to the edge and pick up the manure that hadn’t been completely tilled under. But, hey, it was still part of the adventure.

Well, I’m off to leave my peaceful surroundings to help my aunt and uncle move some furniture in Santa Cruz. But I can always come home afterwards…

Wise in the Morning

In my typical fashion, I have to start even before the beginning, just to include some other good stuff...

When I first married my first wife, we lived in a place we unaffectionately called "the Box". It was freezing in the winter, and scorching in the summer. One time while she was out of town, and I was ill, I'd had enough. I found an add for a rental on the Gasconade River. I went and talked to the landlord, and found it very inviting. When my wife returned from her trip, I showed her the S10 Blazer I wanted us to buy, and the house. She agreed with both immediately.

The area was gorgeous. Right outside our bedroom was the river, and we would spend weekend mornings drinking coffee and watching the wildlife. Our landlord had a small fiberglass Coleman boat with a 6 hp outboard. He said we could take it out so Flanders, Elizabeth and I set out one morning to make it to Boiling Spring, which we'd heard had some good fishing...

We pushed upstream with grand plans. We came to the first shoal, and while looking at the rushing water, we were making great headway. When we looked up at the bank, we were losing ground. We had to get out and drag the boat through the shoal. So, we weren't moving fast, but we were having fun. We say a flock of turkeys moving up the bluff that must have been 15 strong, followed by a tom turkey the likes of which you've only seen in the movies.

We kept going, and going, and going.... By 2:00 pm we were still not there, and dangerously low on beer. We pushed a bit further, and asked a passing boat how far we were. He said we were close, but he didn't know how slow our progress was going up stream. Finally we turned around. Never having achieved our goal.

Upon finally returning to the area outside the house. The motor his a stump and stalled. No problem. I'll just restart it. Unfortunately, there was a safety mechanism against inebriation. When I pulled the start cord, the motor dismounted from the boat and fell into the river. Fortunately, the pull start doubled as an engineering feature that Flanders calls "the engine retrieval cord", and we were able to get it mounted again, and make it to the house.

Soon after, a neighbor was selling a boat, and Flanders and I went in on it together. It was wonderful. That first time we tried to make it to Boiling Springs in the Coleman we spent six hours and didn't make it. The first time we took the 20 foot aluminum bass boat out with the 115 hp jet outboard, we made it to the Spring in 20 minutes. Yeah, well. We had fun the first attempt. Fortunately, there are many, many stories involving that boat. Best $5k I ever spent.

One day in late spring, Flanders and I set off up the river. He had come down from Columbia to do some serious drinking fishing. As we left, we heard a dog howling, but figured it was a neighbor's. After a great day on the water (who knows if we actually caught anything), we had drifted back down in front of the house. The dog was still whining and howling. While fishing a little, we determined that it was not coming from the side of the river the houses were on, but rather from the bluff.

This particular bluff was very old. It climbed about 400 feet above the water, but over the millennia (some geologists believe the Ozarks are some of the oldest mountains in North America), had crumbled in places to make it scalable. With the sounds of a hurt dog in our ears, we bent to the task of rescue. After a day on the river, our coordination skills were slightly impaired, though. The terrain wasn't much of a help. At one point Flanders pulled himself up by a tree that was... er... life challenged. It came out at the roots and he almost went down the bluff with it. Fortunately, a small tree presented itself for him to grab after a fall of only about ten feet. Note to self: don't use dead trees for leverage.

We continued following the sounds until... they stopped. We were close. By blind luck at this point, we came to an outcropping with a slight shelter under it. Under the rock, huddled and scared was a puppy. Someone had dumped him, and he had fallen a bit down the bluff, and was afraid to move further. We draped a jacket over him, and picked him up, wary of his response to us. He was very grateful. We slipped and slid down the hill with him, until we got to the boat. We docked, and went to the house with our new found friend. He was very happy, and was even accomodating when my comparatively mammoth of a dog decided to sniff his rear. Flanders took him home, and named him Cliffy, given the circumstances of his recovery. He couldn't keep him, but found him a great home. We can only hope that Cliffy is still living with people who care for him...
mountain climber... sort of...