Flooded meteor crater ruins tomatoes and slimy parakeet
“At least,” said Bert, after watching the news in The Netherlands. “Your drought is over. You can fill the lakes and reservoirs.”
“Thanks Bert,” I replied. “We can fill the Pacific Ocean,” I thought as I looked out the window.
We got 5.2 inches of rain in the city on Friday and (much) more in the local mountains. Rainfall totals broke records set in 1918 when there was 2.8 inches of rain. Cachuma Reservoir, which was at about 7% capacity three weeks ago is now 35% filled.
“And this happened,” I told Nazy, “even though several Lake’s worth of water went directly from our ‘creek’ (and stairway) into the ocean.”
“This is great news for the farmers,” I thought recalling complaints I had heard at the market during autumn. And then? We were at the market.
“No gladiolus or tomatoes?” I asked. “We always get those.”
“We can’t grow anything now, Dan. No sun.”
“Oh my,” I replied. “I’m glad that I’m not a farmer,” I thought.
The rain was accompanied by high winds (which caused big trees to topple), high seas (which tore boards from their moorings), mudslides that closed the freeway and flash floods (that submerged and closed the airport). The runoff created potholes…
“Potholes?” Nazy asked as the car bounced along Mission Street.
“More like tank traps or meteor craters,” I thought while shifting to high traction driving.
A Los Angeles sinkhole opened up and captured a fire truck.
Thus, we ‘enjoyed’ a very exciting storm and, speaking of excitement..
Tiger continues to amuse and amaze. He likes his new school and is extremely talkative and opinionated. When he began his music class, they taught him a song that we’ve used for the last couple of years. The lyrics:
“It’s sad to help clean up.” Tiger demurred.
“Excuse me?” I replied.
“I didn’t put them on the floor, so I don’t want to..” Tiger asserted (inaccurately) while using one of the favorite phrases two-year old. “Fun to help clean up?” Tiger thought. “That’s fake news.”
“Tiger is Presidential material, Nazy.” I announced.
“Yes, he’s great, Dan. He’ll be ready in about 40 years.”
“I just don’t want to ..” Tiger interrupted.
“No, no, no. He’s ready now. He believes the entire world revolves around him, he’s about to have a tantrum and he blames someone else for his problem.”
“Does he need a national security advisor?”
“He’s waiting for a recommendation from his friend Vlad.”
[The battle for the mind of Donald Trump is like trench warfare in World War I: never have so many fought so hard for such barren terrain. The audacity of his orangeness’ complaints about lying media is awe-inspiring. It’s like a slug asserting that parakeets are slimy.].
But enough of POTUS. Let’s talk about Tiger. Among the things he does when he’s not cleaning up, Tiger swims. And he reminds me of times I spent with Darius in the pool at our home in Memphis in the 1980’s. (see photo at left)
At the time, Darius was a bit older than Tiger is now. We were going to move to Vancouver and I was describing the process to Darius.
“And a real 18-wheeler is coming to our house?” Darius exclaimed. “Wow!” (Darius and Tiger share lots of genes.)
The Vancouver move introduced us to the beautiful Pacific Northwest, a couple of business scoundrels and a new country. Importantly, it taught our family to embrace adventure and change. It led, through friends, to work with Schlumberger in Houston — where I met Cormac, a good friend who’s mentorship led to wonderful experiences in Holland, New England and Switzerland.
Our first international relocation, after ten years in Memphis, established the foundation that gave us confidence for subsequent moves. It made us who we are today. I think it sparked the ‘adventure’ gene for everyone in The Martin Family.
Our offspring and their family are currently mulling options in situations similar to ours of long ago. It’s an exciting time.
Young Arrow has mastered sitting up and he can hold his own bottle. Now about 7 months old, he tops 16 pounds (7-1/4 kilograms). He is also about 2 inches taller (or, since he can’t stand up by himself yet, 2 inches longer) than Tiger was at the same age.
And, finally, Nazy and I had a wonderful Valentine’s dinner at the new Somerset Restaurant in Santa Barbara. Nazy was predictably beautiful.
“Thanks Bert,” I replied. “We can fill the Pacific Ocean,” I thought as I looked out the window.
We got 5.2 inches of rain in the city on Friday and (much) more in the local mountains. Rainfall totals broke records set in 1918 when there was 2.8 inches of rain. Cachuma Reservoir, which was at about 7% capacity three weeks ago is now 35% filled.
“And this happened,” I told Nazy, “even though several Lake’s worth of water went directly from our ‘creek’ (and stairway) into the ocean.”
“This is great news for the farmers,” I thought recalling complaints I had heard at the market during autumn. And then? We were at the market.
“No gladiolus or tomatoes?” I asked. “We always get those.”
“We can’t grow anything now, Dan. No sun.”
“Oh my,” I replied. “I’m glad that I’m not a farmer,” I thought.
The rain was accompanied by high winds (which caused big trees to topple), high seas (which tore boards from their moorings), mudslides that closed the freeway and flash floods (that submerged and closed the airport). The runoff created potholes…
“Potholes?” Nazy asked as the car bounced along Mission Street.
“More like tank traps or meteor craters,” I thought while shifting to high traction driving.
A Los Angeles sinkhole opened up and captured a fire truck.
Thus, we ‘enjoyed’ a very exciting storm and, speaking of excitement..
Tiger continues to amuse and amaze. He likes his new school and is extremely talkative and opinionated. When he began his music class, they taught him a song that we’ve used for the last couple of years. The lyrics:
“It’s fun to help clean up!”
Whenever we’ve wanted Tiger to, eh, ‘help clean up’, we sing the song. It’s worked. Until
Nazy noticed that the magnetic letters that belong on the dishwasher were actually on the floor. She asked Tiger to put them back: “It’s fun to help clean up!” Tiger considered the request.
“It’s sad to help clean up.” Tiger demurred.
“Excuse me?” I replied.
“I didn’t put them on the floor, so I don’t want to..” Tiger asserted (inaccurately) while using one of the favorite phrases two-year old. “Fun to help clean up?” Tiger thought. “That’s fake news.”
“Tiger is Presidential material, Nazy.” I announced.
“Yes, he’s great, Dan. He’ll be ready in about 40 years.”
“I just don’t want to ..” Tiger interrupted.
“No, no, no. He’s ready now. He believes the entire world revolves around him, he’s about to have a tantrum and he blames someone else for his problem.”
“Does he need a national security advisor?”
“He’s waiting for a recommendation from his friend Vlad.”
[The battle for the mind of Donald Trump is like trench warfare in World War I: never have so many fought so hard for such barren terrain. The audacity of his orangeness’ complaints about lying media is awe-inspiring. It’s like a slug asserting that parakeets are slimy.].
But enough of POTUS. Let’s talk about Tiger. Among the things he does when he’s not cleaning up, Tiger swims. And he reminds me of times I spent with Darius in the pool at our home in Memphis in the 1980’s. (see photo at left)
At the time, Darius was a bit older than Tiger is now. We were going to move to Vancouver and I was describing the process to Darius.
“And a real 18-wheeler is coming to our house?” Darius exclaimed. “Wow!” (Darius and Tiger share lots of genes.)
The Vancouver move introduced us to the beautiful Pacific Northwest, a couple of business scoundrels and a new country. Importantly, it taught our family to embrace adventure and change. It led, through friends, to work with Schlumberger in Houston — where I met Cormac, a good friend who’s mentorship led to wonderful experiences in Holland, New England and Switzerland.
Our first international relocation, after ten years in Memphis, established the foundation that gave us confidence for subsequent moves. It made us who we are today. I think it sparked the ‘adventure’ gene for everyone in The Martin Family.
Our offspring and their family are currently mulling options in situations similar to ours of long ago. It’s an exciting time.
Young Arrow has mastered sitting up and he can hold his own bottle. Now about 7 months old, he tops 16 pounds (7-1/4 kilograms). He is also about 2 inches taller (or, since he can’t stand up by himself yet, 2 inches longer) than Tiger was at the same age.
And, finally, Nazy and I had a wonderful Valentine’s dinner at the new Somerset Restaurant in Santa Barbara. Nazy was predictably beautiful.
Arrow Daniel Adams
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