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...

Yeah, I'm in a posting mood.

I've created a separate category for posts from my past. This is the first, as is appropriate, given that Flanders helped me title it.

When living in my first river home, Flanders and us (Elizabeth and myself) went in financially on a boat. He came down this particular weekend to go out fishing. Unfortunately, it was raining. Not that we were afraid of water. Case in point: Flanders decided that we could catch a lot of fish at night if we had a submersible light. We went into a slough and prepared to catch fish. There was a swamped tree that stuck up in the middle. We pulled up cautiously to the protruding tree. I reached out to grab the protruding branch. Flanders pulled back on the throttle. I grabbed the branch victoriously, just before it broke under my weight. I went into the water. Die hard that I am, we went back to the house, I changed clothes, and we went back out. We didn't catch a damned thing.

Anyway, Flanders came down to go fishing, and it was raining. We went into town to find a new video game that we could play during the rain. The salesperson suggested a game called Myst. It cost $50. I asked what the expected time for solving this game. "People play this game for ages and can't solve it." Good. We're arrogant, but we would take this.

We awoke Saturday morning and made breakfast (the wife was gone, and had no comment on our choices). We made chili and eggs. What!?!? It was great! We could look out of the window and see the beautiful river even in the rain, but played our game. We solved it in six hours. Freakin' Myst. We made the best of it, though. The chili and eggs kicked in, and we manfully challenged each other to make the best stink. The animals left the room, and eventually stood around the door to escape the stench.

Yeah, well we solved what were supposed to be some difficult puzzles, and we cried for the pain we put each other through. Deal with it. We're guys...


They're my memories. I can like them if I want to.

When we moved here, there was a chicken coop. It was fairly well designed and in decent shape. All we had to do was replace the doors, give it a coat of protectant, and rebuild the outside pen. So? We have chickens...

They have been through some trying times. The only chicken that we still have from the original set is Lila. During Annie’s early years, she would go to the coop when I didn’t know it, and leave the gate open. Coyotes thought this was a wonderful thing, and picked off a few. Also, we had a problem with mites briefly that resulted in the chickens killing each other (they are not really nice creatures). The good news is we have eight chickens now that are thriving. They produce more eggs than we can generally use, which is nice for friends and neighbors.

When we bought the last set of chickens (Spring 2004), they were growing in a bin in the garage. Annie wanted to take them for show-n-tell, so I packed them to school. Unfortunately, one excited child stepped on one chick. I didn’t think he was really hurt at first, but then noticed that after a growth spurt one of the chicks was very small compared to the others. Further inspection indicated that she couldn’t walk well. Annie’s concern resulted in this chick, later named “Goofy” was moved to the house. She slept next to her, ate next to her, and was in general a very concerned parent for Goofy. Goofy continued to grow… slowly… Finally, the time came to move Goofy to the coop. This was a combination of her being large enough, and my being tired of the chicken stink in Annie’s room. She seemed to be doing fine in the coop for several weeks. She still didn’t walk well, but she seemed to be surviving. Then, one weekend when Annie was at her Mom’s, I went into the coop to find that Goofy had moved on to a better place. I didn’t know how I was going to tell Annie. But, I did, and she shed a few tears. We talked about how Goofy was probably in a place now where she could walk on both legs, and Annie seemed better. Although, at wierd times, she would tear up a little and say she missed Goofy.

The rest of the chickens are doing well, and seem quite content. When Colleen and Annie accidentally left the gate open, they stayed around the coop, and went back in in the evening. The coyotes seem to be frightened by the smell of the coop, which really needs to be cleaned.

Three more chicken stories: Our original rooster, which we thought was a hen until it started crowing, flew the coop. We believe he ventured off to Highway 9 with the rest of the renegade chickens, and is on the side of the road smoking, and basically being a rebel. We liked having a rooster, and so one day, when April (my second ex-wife) was gone, I saw a sign for a rooster that needed a home. I talked to the lady, picked up a Banty rooster and hen, and put them in the coop. They seemed to be fine, and didn’t say anything to April.  Later, we were outside, and there was a terrible squawk from the coop (the rooster was very young). I feigned a look of concern, and we walked up to the coop. She was concerned that there was a sick chicken. She looked at the chickens, and said that there was something wrong. They got small (Bantam chickens are small). I laughed so hard, I thought I’d cry. She ultimately figured out what I had done. Yes, I’m aware my sense of humor is a little off.

Story #2: The next two come from my childhood (that’s right mom and dad, get ready). One of my jobs when I was a kid was to clean the chicken coop. We had (as I recall) about twenty chickens and bounced between one and two roosters. The inside of the chicken area had a dirt floor, and I hated cleaning it. In my brilliance, one time I decided I wasn’t going to do it. I scraped off the top of the grime, and put fresh straw down. I played in the barn for what should have been enough time to clean the coop, and then went back to the house. My wise father never said a word. A month passed, and it was time again. Of course, I never brought it up, but Dad said it was time. He then added “and this time, do it right.” I was mortified. He knew, but hadn’t reprimanded me before. I was soon to found out that the punishment was the true cleaning of the coop. After that long of time, the chicken… er… residue had begun to ferment. I ran out of the barn a number of times as a result of the strength of the ammonia smell in the coop. Note to self: Never put off ‘till tomorrow what you can do today.

Last Story: This is one of my favorites. Growing up on a farm, one of the harsh lessons you learn early in life is that things ultimately die. To preface this, there is a reason that some countries/places like “Cock Fights”. Roosters are very territorial, and there is a reason that they have that extra spike on their feet. Our roosters, when I was a kid (we handle our rooster frequently, and he is not aggressive towards people), had a tendency to be ornery. Case in point: Big Red. It was my sister’s job to feed the chickens and get the eggs. This include a tool in the form of a five-gallon bucket. Big Red was sly. He would wait until your back was turned, and then launch at you. If you looked at him, he would pretend to be busy scratching at the ground or picking something out of his feathers. My sister was busy doing her chores, and lost her attention to Big Red. At the last moment she realized her mistake and turned to find Big Red launching himself at her. Instinctively, she whipped the bucket around and caught him across the head. Big Red went down, and didn’t move. She came back to the house in tears, “I killed Big Red.” My Dad went to the coop, and returned to say, yes, he’s dead. Years later, we discovered that Dad had decided that Big Red was just too durned aggressive. When he went to check, Red had shrugged it off, and was fine. Dad decided he just wasn’t a safe rooster, and finished the job. Hey, life is about learning.

Fowl, but liking it.

I have successfully exerted my formidable mind control over the tall two-legged (aka Daddy). Employing the Jedi Mind Trick, I forced him to take me outside. I explored the deck, taking in the trees, the leaves, the branches sprawled around just for my pleasure. It was amazing. My control slipped at one point when I made a move to go under the deck, and was deterred. The force is strong in this one. So I had to be content to explore the deck and make it my own. At one point, the deceptively brain-challenged family dog came to inquire if there was anything I wanted him to do. My arched back and splayed tail told him no, and faced with such an intimidating display, he was so scared that he went over and vomited up some grass he had eaten. That'll teach him. I say he is deceptively brain-challenged, because he is the protector of my home. After scaring him with my obviously superior intimidation skills, he went to the driveway, went into a reclining position, and feigned the appearance of a lazy, sleeping dog. Wow. He is really smart. God help the poor unsuspecting visitor...

The deck has some wonderful toys, including some plants that I could play with, chew on, and otherwise destroy.

One thing in particular that I noticed, is that apparently one can use the restroom anywhere one wants to outside. The genius of a dog Tolkien left evidence everywhere. Maybe this is where Sandy the Cat Bear gets the idea that the house is one giant catbox.

Well, the exertion required to maintain mental control of Daddy has worn me out. He awoke from a stupor, and put me back in the house. Next time, I’m going for the fruit trees…

Lilo the Cat Adventurer

Dear Flatlanders,

First, I appreciate the need to escape to the mountains when you get the chance. If I lived in the flatlands, I'd be out of there whenever time allowed, too. I understand you wanting to take a trip through the San Lorenzo Valley, and hope that you stop into our small towns and help out the local economy. However, there are some things I'd like to point out...

When driving Highway 9, there are places called turnouts. This is where you move off the road and let others pass. Not only is it polite, it's often the law (California Drivers' Handbook). Now while I realize that the handbook says "five or more vehicles behind you", do it if there is one. As much as I and other mountain folk love to see the majestic redwoods and beautiful views of the valley and the bay, we'd like to enjoy it from home. It's not hard... really... I do it myself when someone is moving faster than me. You just put the blinker on when you see the turnout sign (that's the stem sticking out of your steering column on the left... your other left). You pull into the turnout lane, and slow down. We go buy you, and you pull safely back out onto the road. Have you noticed how when you are going down the road there are times when my big truck comes running up to you? That's because on your right there is a lane I'm praying you will move into. I'm going faster to make it easier for you to use the lane, and keeping you from slowing down more than you have to. I assure you the lane didn't get wider just because Cal Trans wanted you to feel you were on a luxuriously wide lane...

Next? We are not all hippies. Don't comment to us how quaint the mountain folk are. Probably 50% of us are highly educated, and just want some peace. You might be visiting, but this is our home. We'll make you a deal, don't comment on the Charles Manson look alike trying to hitch a ride, the people in the beautiful riverside park that have strange smelling rolled cigarettes, our unhurried gait as we walk down the sidewalk, or the friendly service you get at the local hardware store (alright, you can comment on that), and we won't say anything about seeing you on the side of the road buckled over or hanging out the window even though you "don't get car sick", but Highway 9 proved too much for you.

Ok. That's my rant from the stump for today. Remember, this is our home, not just a place for you to have an outing. Respect our lives and ways as you would like us to respect yours. Oh yeah, stop throwing your trash out of the car window. We don't want it either...

Sincerely, a resident of the San Lorenzo Valley

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...

Our mornings are generally rushed. Like everyone (I hope) we always seem to be about five minutes late. Well, I'm rushing... I go in to check on Annie's progress with getting dressed, and she has Lilo trapped in the corner, or is playing on her little piano, or is talking to her "kids" - stuffed animals. Well, we'd not be us if we didn't try to increase the difficulty level of getting ready in the morning. For the past week or two, we have a new ritual.

She gets up, makes her oatmeal, feeds the cats (and talks to the cats while she has their undivided attention), goes to the bathroom, and then sits down to eat. The Harley-Davidson blanket is draped over her chair to limit the contact with cold wood. Her special Annie blanket (made by my great-great-aunt) is over her legs, because... well, just because. Her first few bites usually inolve the ice we've added to expedite the cooling of the oatmeal. That's all the old routine, now we've added a step.

The school sent home some printouts of various words, numbers, and letters, which I cut out and put in a bag (that they supplied... Thank you!). I begin pulling out various cards and showing them to her. I'm amazed at how much her brain seems to work like mine. I've a visual learner, and I think she is, too. She takes one look of the cards, and then her eyes drift somewhere else while the brain takes the image and begins to decipher it. I always do the same thing. No one in college would ask to see my notes, because I never took any. So her mind focuses on deciphering the image, and the wheels begin to turn. She sounds out each letter. Sometimes her focus returns to me, "is that a silent 'e'?" "Yes." "What letter is it for?" "You tell me." "The 'i'". "Right, it has the long 'i' sound." Her focus drifts again, as she quietly sounds out the word. Her sounds get faster, and faster as she puts the pieces together. Then, her focus returns to me and she gets the smile of the conquering hero. She says the word, and we have a high five over it. Of course, the eating of the breakfast has slowed down, but it's worth it.

As her interest in learning and demonstrating what she's learned continues, she shows another trait of mine (God help her). My mind is typically multi-tasking at any given time. Annie is showing the same thing. We've also been working at reading numbers using the tens and hundreds digits. The best way we do this is to read signs as we go down the road. Now, it's become second nature. We'll be driving to school, and she will be telling me some story, and boom there it is. "... we were playing horses. I was the mommy horse - thirty five - and Colleen was the daughter horse." "What?" "The sign said 'thirty-five'."

I'm not completely sure I want her to turn out like me, but I like the way she thinks.
Glad she looks like her mother.

My boss reads my website. He commented on my lack of posts regarding work. So, here we go!

I have a great job. I truly, truly, love it (by the way this doesn't mean I don't want a raise, boss!). I was an intern at Sun back in 1996. I thought it went badly, but was offered a job when I returned to school, even though I had a year left to complete me degree. I've been here for over seven years, and have never worked anywhere else. Some might say that that doesn't give me a point of view for the way other companies work. I look at it positively that what I have is great. This company affords me the flexibility to work long hours or short hours, depending on the need, and I can take care of my little one.

The question is: what do I do? I assist in the design of computers. All computers emit radio waves, and I help make sure that our computers are bad radios. I've very proud of my work. First, I've helped design some amazing machines:

Second, I get to help educate and provide design guidelines for the next generation of products. Yes, I’m a geek, but dang that’s great.  Look, I help make the most amazing computers on earth. For a lot of cell phone providers, when you make a call, it’s on our machines. A lot of on-line business commerce? Our machines. Pardon my arrogance, but my brain works for these kinds of things. I’m good at it. I constantly want to learn new concepts, and create them.

Then again, I’d like a raise (hint, hint). 

Helping design the future.