Subterranean Homesick Blues, Here I Come!

I just got my package of books from Wayne Ranney.  (Actually, I probably got them a week ago, but I've only just now checked the mail.)  You know what this means, don't you?

Pain, that's what.

You see, Wayne's a wonderful writer, and he's got all of Arizona's delicious geology to go play in, and these books will be filled with all of the places I used to ramble through for the first three decades of my life.  I shall love them.  But you can expect the occasional sentimental post arising from them, because they'll remind me how much I miss ye olde home state (although not its government).  We'll be taking some rambles through Arizona's spectacular landforms, guided by Wayne and a few others, in the months to come.

While you're waiting for me to get round to it, you can go visit Wayne's blog, where he has a spectacular post up on the Esplanade Platform:

Far away from the main tourist areas in Grand Canyon lies a huge wilderness of stone and space. It is silent beyond belief and seldom visited. Within this huge expanse lies the Esplanade Platform, a stunning landscape feature that is found only in the central and western portions of the canyon. The Esplanade forms a broad terrace positioned about a fourth of the way down in the canyon, where the Hermit Formation overlies the Esplanade Sandstone. The Esplanade thus creates a canyon within a canyon. Geologists have long been intrigued by the presence of the Esplanade Platform in Grand Canyon and many theories have been proposed to explain its origin. Did the Colorado River carve it during a period of erosional quiescence, as some say? Or did it form in response to the canyon's variable stratigraphy? I explored these questions on a recent trip to the Esplanade. From February 10 to 16 I was privileged to backpack with two other friends here. This is our story.

And it's illustrated.  Lavishly.  So get thee to Wayne's place and enjoy.

Birth of the Grand Canyon

Some of my favorite geologists are on teevee!  Wayne Ranney and Ron Blakey got tapped to explain how the Grand Canyon came to be for Naked Science on the National Geographic channel.  Repeats are airing - check your local listings and set your DVRs to stun!  I mean, record!

For a Friend

She'll know why.  The rest of you are invited to enjoy.

Suzanne and Sunset

If that doesn't take your breath away, you have no eye for beauty.  Two more where that comes from. 

Now do you see why Suzanne makes my heart sing?

One (or Two) For the Road

Silver Fox has a post up about road songs:

So one day, I'm in the passenger seat of some other geo's truck, being driven from place to place through thick trees and over rutted and roily dirt roads somewhere in central Idaho, in search of particularly fascinating outcrops — any outcrops would do, given the number of trees and lack of visibility — and JS, the geo-type whose projects I was visiting, pulled two of his newly made road tapes out of the glove box. The tapes, filled with road songs, were meant to be played while on the road, any road. Brainstorming while we listened, all the while watching for outcrops, we came up with a million more road songs, and a rather loose definition.

A road song must contain a word pertaining to roads — road, highway, freeway, byway, street, interstate — or it can instead contain words pertaining to cars, trucks, semis, and railroads or railway cars. Travel songs without mentioning the roads or railroads or the vehicles don't count, and airplane or boat songs are generally out. Exceptions to these rules may exist, but I can't think of any.

And it occurs to me, there's a perfect road song she may never have heard:



See? It's even got the word "interstate" right there in the title.

And there's a second song that doesn't quite qualify as a road song, but it's about being a long way from home, and it's wonderful, and so it shall be included here:



Silver, my dear, if you enjoyed those, and wish for just a little bit more, let me know, and a CD shall be on its way to you directly.  The Peacemakers have plenty more where that came from.

Lyrics below the fold.

Sit and Watch the Sunset

It's Monday.  Moreover, it's the Monday after a holiday.  I know all you all need a little something beautiful right now, so go over and watch the sunset at Suzanne's:

That's just the first of many gorgeous images.  Go on.  Go enjoy.  You've earned a beauty break.

Special Day

It r a speshul dai for Suzanne!

Happi happi birfdai!

We wuv u, Suzanne! 

Stuff Comes from Somewhere

Back before I distracted by the shiny new car and purchasing of same, our own George W. had a post up that really forced some thinking.  And it's all because he was up at 4 in the morning thinking about bolts:

Where’s the nickel (which plates the bolt) mined? What’s the state of mine-safety technology? Do mining companies pay lobbyists to keep the laws lax? Or more likely, does the manufacturer just buy the nickel salts for plating from some third-world country where the government doesn’t protect the workers or the rivers or the children who live along them? Is that why the bolts are so cheap? What’s the external cost of the carbon output from manufacturing the bolt? Maybe that’s the reason I saved the bolt that was left over from a project of years ago.  Or maybe I’m just really cheap.

Read the whole post.  It'll make you think about bolts, politics, change and resources all in one go, which is damned impressive for a short post brought on by insomnia.  This is why I love George's blog so: when I leave there, it's not with the same eyes as when I arrived.

Geological Humor. Plus, Choices.

Woozle has been a cherished patron of this cantina since very nearly the moment it opened.  Whilst I was away viewing non-flaming geysers, he left this note:

...and on a completely different tack, some geological humor for you. 

I clicked the link.  I viewed link.  I read the link.  A giggle grew to a guffaw, and then an outburst of laughter that left the cat rather disgruntled.  I would have screamed, "I love you, Woozle!" but the neighbors might've objected, seeing as how it's after midnight.

My darlings, you must go read

There's more.  There's far more.  And yes, it does get exciting.

As if Woozle wasn't enough, Karen made me blush, shuffle my feet, mumble "aw, shucks," and want to give her a hug fit to crack her ribs.  Mind you, this was after I'd jumped up and down screaming "She's alllliiiivvvveee!"  Worried about my Bay-area readers after that whole San Bruno thing, y'know.

Now, since I was off chasing after mythical flaming geysers all day, I didn't visit so much as one political blog, therefore no Dumbfuckery du Jour.  However, when I got to my intrepid companion's house, I found he'd taken care of the situation for us.  Let's just say that, although I'd nearly gotten squished by a couple of idiot drivers on the freeway and had just discovered my camera was safely home over thirty miles away, I still ended up laughing my ass off.  Cujo does an excellent job trivializing the trivial, so consider his post our Dumbfuckery du Jour.

And, finally, I missed #womeninscience.  Whoops!  Allow me to make some amends by pointing you to Anne's post at Highly Allochthonous, and this old post o' mine celebrating some unsung women of science.

So, raise a glass to all the wonderful women in science, and then raise another to yourselves.  You all make my day, each and every day. 

For My Intrepid Companion

He'll know what I mean.

More Rose Gardens, a Peony, and a Truce

My intrepid companion has decided you needed to see more of the International Rose Test Garden than just the roses, so there you are: more roses!  And a few other things to boot - don't forget to visit his site for more than rose gardens.

Now, if he wants to make this a real war o' the roses, well, we totally can.  I only snapped about a gajillion pictures, thee knows.  Like when I got bored ogling roses and wandered down to the amphitheater for a bit:

Yes, roses even there, I'm afraid.  But there was also an interesting staircase made of rocks rather than roses, so that made me happy:

And with that, I'm calling a truce.  Of course, if Cujo wants to post more pretty pictures, I doubt any of us will argue.

Speaking of pretty pictures, Suzanne's peony's obliging:

She takes the most lovely photos of Netarts Bay, and having been by there, I can see precisely why she loves living in the area.  There's plenty more where that comes from, too, so do enjoy!

I Can Haz Bodhisattva Power!

Whelp, didn't make it to SAAM for the reprise today, as some of the friends we were going with put our fathers above art for some strange reason.  That's okay, because my house needed serious excavation after two weeks of neglect.  And we can haz SAAM fun anyway!  Our own George W. sent me this reinterpretation of my meeting with Guaynin:

In the immortal words of Happy Jihad, that cracks my shit up.  Thank you, George!

Speaking of George's mad photography skillz, we can expect quite a bit more awesomeness emanating from his blog, because his new baby's here, and she's performing beautifully:

That's just too cool for words.

If you've been contemplating a Canon G11, or just want to see some wonderful photography, be sure to visit the link.

While we're at it, if any of you have any particular mad skillz of yours you'd like me to highlight here, please do send them on so I can spotlight you.  It can be something you've already posted, or something never-before-seen.  I love seeing your talents.  So show 'em off!

Oh, the Places We Will Go!

My heart sister recently commented that it looks like we'll have quite a bit of exploring to do when her family's up this way.  We certainly will!  And I know just the place to take my honorary nephew:

They're standing outside the Ginkgo Gem Shop, which not only has the kind of statuary guaranteed to delight a kid, but a lot of educational toys that will edify and amuse at a reasonable price. 

Photos courtesy of my intrepid companion, who snapped these while I was making a beeline for the rocks.

Hapi Birfday 2 U!

Ai wuv u infinity!  Ai hope ur day iz grate!  Ai got u sumfin but it eated teh bag.

(U no who u r.  ;-)

A Masterful Summation of the Week's Dumbfuckery

George has the roundup, complete with commentary.  He's hit very nearly every story I'd thought of highlighting.  It's too bad he's busy with his own blog, or I'd hire him on to do this one.

When you're done with the weekly dumbfuckery, don't forget to watch George give a Church of Christ cretinist a sound intellectual thrashing.  Here's the bit I'm going to memorize for future debates with various and sundry IDiots:

Macro- versus micro-evolution?  Seriously?  Let me ask you; don’t millions of small steps add up to a long journey?

And this, from his notes:

Say; “Prove it!” to evolutionists! (But won’t accept any evidence as proof.  And anyway, proof is a mathematical concept; science deals in probabilities)

Which gave me a bit of a brainwave.  Such as saying, "Okay, fine, I'll prove evolution - after you prove you're X," in which X = any attribute of the person in front of me such as tall, dressed, or suchlike, and during which I won't accept any evidence presented, no matter how obvious it is.  That could lead to hours of cheap entertainment, at least until the IDiots snatch their toys and run sniveling home to mommy.

George sometimes flatters me with comments regarding the sagacity and wit of my writing, but I have to tell you the truth, my darlings: if blogging were a car, George would get shotgun.  I'm definitely a backseat sort of blogger, compared to him.

Our Own Chris Rhetts, Ladies and Gentlemen

I do believe I mentioned my own dear heart sister Nicole's holding a contest for National Poetry Month.  Chris Rhetts, a regular patron and one of my Wisest Readers, has thrown his hat in the ring.  It's a delightful poem, one that has taken its place among my pantheon of favorites as if a slot was always waiting for it.  And it reminds me how much I once enjoyed water spiders.

Good poetry flows.  Great poetry evokes.  I think we can safely say Chris deserves a place among the greats.

Go.  Enjoy.  And don't forget to check out the other delights Nicole's posted this month.

Poetry and Flowers

In a moment, here, the Muse will be having her way with me.  But in the meantime, George brought us flowers:

Which delight not only because George is a wonderful photographer (which he is), but because when I was growing up, crocuses always meant spring had almost sprung.  It also meant we'd be out in the yard around the wishing well with toothpicks and saran wrap a day or two later, desperately trying to keep the little buggers alive.  When they bloomed, you could be assured a snowstorm was on the way.  Lousy sense of timing they had.

Ah, memories.

And my heart sister Nicole has a poetry contest going for National Poetry Month.  Really not to be missed, you poets, so break out the rhyming dictionaries and once again curse the dearth of entries under "daffodil."

I'd love to stay and rhaposdize, but the Muse and I need to go have an argument about what one should write immediately upon seeing something as saccharine as 27 Dresses.  

Fotos de Cujo

I keep meaning to highlight some of Cujo's cherry tree photos.  At last, here we are: beautiful blossoms!

More where that came from, and some new ones since last week:

See?  They almost make strip malls purty.

Oh, and WANT!

She's getting old, and the ol' hairball remedy doesn't work the way it used to, and all I can say about the house is that caution is warranted when navigating the floors.

Woozle's Got Talent

You know what, my darlings?  I'm glad I posted that silly post about song covers, because this is how I'm starting my morning: Woozle on keyboards.  Woot!

For those of you considering not clicking the link, or maybe putting the link off for later, lemme give you some incentive.  It's a short song, so even if you're busy, it'll fit nicely into your day.  It's got an energetic drumline and Woozle on keyboards.  You know how Woozle's got a talent for thoroughly taking down really stupid people?  Let's just say that his keyboard work proves this is not his only talent.  The singer reminds me of Motorhead, and those of you who love Lemmy know why that is awesome.  And while it seems to be an anti-drug message, which rather goes against the whole sex-drugs-rock-n'-roll ethos, that's quite all right, because it made me want to finish my morning by buying a motorcycle and a leather jacket. 

If we'd had Woozle and his band playing at our anti-drug rallies, I daresay they would have been a lot more fun, not to mention cool.  Alas, all we got was one DARE officer checking the hallway for oncoming school authorities before leaning toward us all and saying, "Drugs are shit," which was the coolest thing that ever happened in our anti-drug activities.  Still pretty cool in a conservative, religious community where people thought "darn" was a little risque, but nowhere near as cool as a rock band.

Now, my darlings, if any of the rest of you have hidden talents you'd like to reveal, you may feel free to announce them in the comments.  Then I can brag about you.

While I'm Away...

Cujo has some good stuff up:

The Boy Who Cried Reductio Ad Hitlerium

This Just In: 55 Percent of America is Smarter Than David Broder

And a very nice Sunday Photo.

I'm sure he'll have COTEB for us soon, too, now that he's no longer fully in the nefarious clutches of his kidnappers (i.e. the people who needed volunteers for a community thing.)

I'd tell you the awesome things my other favorite bloggers have up, but Cujo's place is as far as I got before the Muse caught me and chased me off the toobz...