Are There Too Many Eagles on the Bay?

Bald eagles soaring toward recovery in Virginia

First, some background. In the 1970s, according to Bryan Watts, director of the Center for Conservation Biology at the College of William and Mary and Virginia Commonwealth University, there were maybe 20 bald eagles pairs in Virginia. Now there are more than 800.  As for total numbers, including migrants and nonbreeders, Watts said, "It's likely that at any one time during the course of the year 20,000-30,000 eagles use the (Chesapeake) Bay," which in this case also includes its tributaries up to their fall lines.

With a total shoreline of 11,684 miles, that comes out to 2 to 3 eagles per mile, or a pair and a chick for every mile of coastline.  And we know that not every mile of coastline is suitable so, yes, I would say the Chesapeake is probably near or at it's reasonable capacity for eagles.

But there are consequences to this abundance of predator and prey, which scientists such as Watts and Clark are beginning to see. "Over the last several years, we're getting a lot more eagles coming in with wounds that are consistent with having been in a fight with other eagles," Clark said. In addition, he added, "Out here in Shenandoah Valley, we've got nests popping up all over the place."

That makes sense, Watts said, because while there is ample food for all these eagles, there isn't as much good habitat. Eagles are territorial birds, and when a juvenile, such as the one in Thursday's release, enters a given system, it either has to battle for space or spread its wings in search of new territory.

Watts said he thinks it's the overflowing Chesapeake Bay population that's fueling bald eagle population recoveries in neighboring states such as West Virginia, Pennsylvania, North Carolina and others.

We see eagles fight once in while.  Either that, or have sex; it's not necessarily always clear which is which.  However, when you have four adult birds within sight at one time, and two of them are after each other? I'll name them Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice.

Clark described the issue as a "high-class problem to have. There's no downside to this because these birds are not generally preying on lambs or chickens or turkeys."

But while Watts said there's no real downside from an eagle's perspective, "the downside, in my view, is in this sort of nexus between the biology and our culture. If you're someone who doesn't love eagles and you're being restricted on your land . . ."

He said right now in Virginia there are 10,000 hectares of land on which use is limited because of bald eagles. The value of that land exceeds $4.5 billion dollars.  "(Bald eagles) continue to be federally protected even though, from a biological prospective, they have recovered," he said. "So it's a matter of what we're willing as a society to accept."

Like Clark, Watts sees this as a very positive story, but "there is a bit of a social burden in order to carry this population of eagles, and I think we're going to head toward finding out what the limit of that burden is."

Well, they're not trying to nest on my back lot (yet), or otherwise restrict me from making money, so I guess it all works out.  Besides, the eagles are cool and photogenic, so it's perfectly OK if some guy I don't know loses the use of his property and livelihood.

Minor Changes and a New Link

It was time to do a little house cleaning.  Seeing as how Janie and Solje hadn't updated their blog in a year or so, I finally decided to "delist" it from the friends sites list.  In the meantime another friend just started his blog "Roaming Oldies Fly Fishing" (Fly Fishing Bums with a Touch of Gray).

Ken and Diane just completed retiring, and are off on their post retirement adventure:

W e are embarking on a long awaited “Bucket List” trip later this week; dragging our camper, the “Tin Turtle”, and fly-fishing our way west. There is no particular schedule and no final destination…just a long series of adventures exploring new rivers and re-visiting old favorites. If all goes well, the trip will wind through Ohio, Minnesota, Iowa, South Dakota, Wyoming, Montana, Utah, AZ and New Mexico…maybe.

I've known Ken and Diane for a number of years now, and we shared the harrowing experience on the Bay informally known as "Horkfest."  (IIRC, that's Ken and Diane in the yellow rainsuits). Ken is a talented, actually professional, photographer, and of course, a dyed in the wool, ascot-wearing fly fisherman.  Diane also fishes, and is the quiet one of the pair.

They promise:

Where we’ve fished and what flies worked

Best places for DIY fishing

Fly fishing tips

Explore favorite rivers and streams

Photography

Recommended accommodations based on our experiences

What to see off the beaten path and in the cool out of the way places (not the usual tourist stuff).

I'm jealous, and I wish them well, and look forward to following their exploits.

Now, I just have to find something to do with the background; I'm tired of the fireworks.

Hendrix Goes Wild

Yesterday, Georgia had a dentist appointment in the morning, so rather than drive two cars to work, Georgia stayed home after the appointment, and tele-worked.  When I came home at 5:30, I expected to be attacked by both dogs, Skye (our aging Siberian Husky) and Hendrix, (our son's Mutt, who is staying with us while they represent the East Coast of the clan at the reunion in Pismo Beach).  Georgia was diligently working on data analysis on the kitchen table.

Skye ambled out and said hi, but Hendrix was nowhere to be found.  We scoured the house, we went outside and checked the fenced yard, and walked the immediate neighborhood calling.  No dog...

We still haven't quite figured out how she got out of the fenced yard, but we have a couple of theories, that we likely will not test. 

We went into full panic mode, and started combing the neighborhood in our cars, asking if anyone had seen a small black and brown dog.  Georgia got one "hit" about 3/4 of a mile up the road, and we both searched the area thoroughly, to no avail.  We called off the search at dark.

Georgia reluctantly called Alex, to get the details of what were on her tags, so we could tell the Animal Shelter if they found her.  He and Kelly were both concerned but utterly unable to do anything from the distance. 

We got up at first light, and started the hunt again.  Georgia got a second "hit" somewhere near the previous one, and as I was leaving to meet the carpool, a woman pulled up and reported she had just seen the dog (we were pretty sure by then) on the same road but closer to home, so back she went, while I went to meet the carpool.

About a half hour later Georgia called to report that she had tracked Hendrix down, only a block from home, sitting in the weeds, wet from the nights dew, and with some new burrs stuck in her coat.  She seems none the worse for her night out on the big town of Long Beach (MD), although a little less bouncy than normal.  But that's probably for the best, as she'll be under house arrest for the remainder of her stay.

The Colorado Shootings

For my two or three regular readers, my apologies for the light blogging, and not commenting on this already.  However, one advantage of working is that stories often get a chance to take shape before I get an opportunity to comment on them, and this can lead to **gasp** almost having a few facts before it's time to put thoughts into electrons.  In this case, the lapse was even greater because of family obligations/privileges that came before blogging.

I suppose it's possible that someone, sometime, from somewhere odd reads this without knowing the facts as they've unfolded, so here's a brief summary of the facts:

Late Thursday night, at a first screening of the new Batman Movie "Dark Knight Rises", a man later identified as James Holmes, of Aurora, Colorado, sneaked out the backdoor of the theater, which he propped open, returned with a number of guns and tear gas, and proceeded to shoot as many people as possible. Twelve people are dead and 58 injured (at this point). He was apprehended in the alley behind the studio, apparently without much resistance, and admitted to the shootings, claiming to be "The Joker".  His hair was dyed red.  Upon entering his apartment, it was found booby trapped with explosives and chemical devices, and police have not fully cleared them at this time.

James Holmes is a graduate student in neurosciences at the University of Colorado, where he is/was in the process of withdrawing (I think we can consider this effectively complete). There seem to be no credible reports of any previous run ins with law enforcement, other than a speeding ticket, and no reports of violence or threats of violence to family, neighbors, fellow students or faculty. Neighbors report him as a pleasant person:

"He seemed to have a good demeanor," Parkman said. "The news reports you hear about him, it's as if people are talking about one person in San Diego and one in Colorado. Who he is now is not who he was in San Diego."

although one high-school friend reported that he had a penchant for rooting for the bad guy.

He was a good student as well:

Holmes graduated in the spring of 2010 with a degree in neuroscience from the University of California-Riverside, where he was remembered as an outstanding student who attended on a merit-based scholarship.

"He was at the top of the top," said Chancellor Timothy White at a hastily called news conference. "He really distinguished himself."

although, he was reportedly upset at being unable to find a job in his field.

He purchased his guns and ammunition legally, starting in May of this year, purchasing the four guns (an AR15, a Shotgun, and two Glock pistols) at two stores in Colorado, and had accumulated a large amount of ammunition, approximately 3,000 rounds, or two weeks of practice for Ted...

No specific motive has been offered for his deeds.  At some level you have to grant that mental illness is involved; people with normal brains simply don't do things like this.  Unemployment after a brilliant undergraduate career is certainly disappointing, but hardly sufficient grounds to shoot up a theater full of random and innocent people.  If it were, there would be thousands of such shootings annually, particularly in the current economic climate.  The Batman and Joker connection would seem to indicate that some seriously delusional behavior going on, but unlike say Jared Loughner, no one (with the possible exception of his mother) appears to have seen any previous signs of it.

At some point, you simply have to allow for the possibility of evil in addition to the apparent mental problems.  Is the evil a result of the mental problems, or is it an independent personality development.  Can the mental problems be relieved or at least lessened by treatment, and if so, will the evil go with them or remain behind?

Now, for the "other" things that happened after the shooting.

ABC news immediately covered itself in disgrace when long time correspondent Brian Ross breathlessly reported to George Stuffingevelopes on the Today Show that a Jim Holmes of Aurora, Colorado had a page on a Tea Party Patriots website.  (Aurora has a population of about 300,000 and the statistic suggest up to 25 or more Jim or James Holmes).  Clearly, Ross had been fishing for evidence that the shooter was a right wing extremist of some sort, and had an orgasm when he discovered (or more likely was tipped) to this.  That Jim Holmes turned out to be a 52  year old Hispanic law enforcement officer completely innocent of any involvement.  Over the course of the day, however, he received death threats.  This earned Ross the Title of "America's Wrongest Reporter" by Gawker (I guess in the "it takes one to know one" sort of spirit).

ABC has admitted the error, and apologized (well sort of).

"An earlier ABC News broadcast report suggested that a Jim Holmes of a Colorado Tea Party organization might be the suspect, but that report was incorrect," ABC News said in a statement. "ABC News and Brian Ross apologize for the mistake, and for disseminating that information before it was properly vetted."

This is not Brian Ross's first brush with ignominious reporting.  He was involved in the affair in which NBC reporters arranged for GM trucks to be rigged with explosives to start fires at staged crash for Dateline NBC.  GM sued and NBC settled, and subsequently Ross and others lost their jobs. He was almost immediately picked up by ABC.

Keeping the car theme, a Brian Ross report on sudden acceleration by Toyotas was found to contain staged footage of a tachometer redlining (in a car parked in a garage). Ross was one of several journalist who linked the 2011 anthrax attacks to Al Qaeda (we know it to be the work of a lone researcher today).  He accused Republican Speaker of the House Denny Hastert of connections to the Jack Abramoff corruption scandals, which the Justice Departement (and Denny Hasteret of course) denied, and which were never pursued.  He is reported to have rushed Michelle Bachmann at a campaign event, ignoring requests to stay back and forcing her guards to man handle him.  He whined like a baby:

Ross said he'd only been treated like that before "mostly by Mafia people.

There is really no excuse for Brian Ross to be employed in the news business at this point.  One has to presume anything he reports on to be tainted.

The usual suspects, gun control advocates such as New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg and the New York Daily News, have seized on this news to push gun control.  Michael, you already have strict gun control in New York, Chicago and Los Angeles.  How's that working out?

In short, a bad day all around for truth, justice and the American Way.

Honey, We Shrunk the Kids...

Home ranges.  As life gets safer and safer, children's freedom becomes more and more restricted.

A British study called One False Move, investigating the mobility of children, found that the average eight-year-old saw its ‘home habitat’ shrink to one-ninth of its size within a single generation. In 1970, 80% of British kids 7 or 8 years of age were allowed to go to school unsupervised; by 1990, this figure had dropped below 10%.

The result of this gradual shrinkage of children’s habitat, is the effective end of the outdoor childhood. This evolution, by and large underreported, is put in stark perspective by this map. Zooming in on parts of Sheffield, in the north of England, it pictures the differences in size of the stomping grounds of four generations of the Thomas family - each snapped at eight years of age:

I can certainly see that in my life.  At eight (back in 1959 or so), I was walking about a mile to and from school in Culver City, a town surrounded by Los Angeles, or to and from the public pool, in summer.  We had the freedom to chase fish and tadpoles in La Ballona Creek, even at that time, a giant concrete drainage ditch nearby, with foul run off in the bottom.  We had even wider ranges when we visited our cabin in the San Bernardino Mountains.  We were allowed to wander about anywhere we wanted, carrying our BB guns, although I doubt we went much farther than a couple of miles unaccompanied.  Such lack of parental attentiveness would practically be considered child abuse today.

At eight, our kids certainly had the run of the street, and possibly a few streets further. A half a mile at most.  But most of their spare time was taken up by soccer or video games.

Found at Ace's ONT.

San Berdoo Goes Bust

San Bernardino seeks bankruptcy protection

San Bernardino on Tuesday became the third California city in less than a month to seek bankruptcy protection, with officials saying the financial situation had become so dire that it could not cover payroll through the summer.

The unexpected vote came at the suggestion of the interim city manager, who said the city faces a $46-million deficit and depleted coffers.

"We have an immediate cash flow issue," Andrea Miller told the mayor and seven-member City Council.

Mayor Patrick Morris called the decision, passed on a 4-2 vote, a "stain" on the city. But he said the only other option was "draconian cuts" to all city services, including the police and fire departments.

"It means the bills will be paid," said a dejected Morris, who is not a voting member of the council.

The city's fiscal crisis has been years in the making, compounded by the nation's crushing recession and exacerbated by escalating pension costs, lucrative labor agreements, Sacramento's raid on redevelopment funds and a city reserve that is tapped out, officials said.

Another city done in by rotten accounting and a pension problem.

San Bernardino, known as San Berdoo, or even just Berdoo, to locals, was a step on the route to my parent's cabin in the San Bernardino Mountains.  As a kid, and even into young adulthood, before they eventually sold the house, I must have driven through hundreds of times.  I don't remember much, except heat and gas stations, which pretty much seems to be a fair summary:

A city in southern California bereft of fun. The best thing to do there is to pack up and get the fuck out. It smells like urban decay and broken dreams. It also smells like raw sewage for some reason, though after careful investigation you won't find any processing plant. More likely it's the high concentration of ghetto-ass people.

Only notable for being the origin of the McDonalds franchise in 1940. Nothing significant has happened since. Not that it matters, because most of the inhabitants here are so ignorant and shallow that it wouldn't matter if the most important human discovery had taken place here; no one would care.

Oh, and according to Wiki, the city is also close to the home of the original motorcycle club with grew to become the Hell's Angels, the Pissed Off Bastards of Bloomington (later of Berdoo).

Oh, and a couple of songs about San Bernardino:


"Five Little Miles from San Berdoo" by Jane Russell, better known as a curvaceous  actress.

And "San Berdoo Sunburn" by Eagles of Death Metal.  I was prepared to dislike this one based on the name of the the group, but I actually found it kind of funny and catchy.  It portrays the kind of person I associated with San Berdoo.

Whew, What a Relief!

As usually happens here, the heat wave broke with the onset of a thunderstorm.  Georgia and I were at a restaurant, celebrating on of those "Hallmark" events when it arrived.  Lightening, thunder, raining buckets.  By the time we reached home, 7 miles away, it had slacked off, and it was apparent that Prince Frederick had much more rain than St. Leonard.

We needed the rain, but best of all, the temperature cooled 10 F in a few minutes with the passing of the front.

We got more thunderstorms last night, and by this morning have a total of over a half inch of rain, and a morning temperature of 74 F compared to yesterdays 84.  More rain is in the forecast, too.

Bring it on!

Went Fishing 7/2/12

 Notice I didn't say catching.  After a long, odd day at work (there's no power in the labs or in the office, thanks to the "Ring of Fire" derecho),  I decided to take the evening off for fishing.  This kayak fisherman had the same idea.  I passed him on the way out of the harbor.








I did find a few schools of striped bass breaking the surface.  I caught one to confirm my suspicion that the fish were on 8 inches long.

If you look close, you can see a bait fish (probably a Bay Anchovy or Atlantic Silverside) which has been thrown out of the water after being struck by a fish.

I did get a couple of decent bites on a Zara Spook in shallow water, but I couldn't make it stick.





Full moon over the Gas Docks, and another boat of fishermen

RIP Ray Bradbury

It's all over the news today that Ray Bradbury, one of the early and greatest sci-fi authors died this morning in Los Angeles at age 91.  Writers tend to like Fahrenheit 45, as the possibility of censorship looms huge in their minds, Others are naming their favorite works of his, Insty has picked Dandelion Wine, for example.  I suppose my favorite was Something Wicked This Way Comes, probably because it had young boys about the age I was then as protagonists.  The Martian Chronicles didn't do that much for me, although I still remember many of the vignettes.

I had a brush with Bradbury; he lived in my neighborhood, Rancho Park in Los Angeles while I was in 6th grade (at least), and his daughter, Ramona, was in my class.  If I recall correctly, we even read one of his short stories in class, somewhat to her embarrassment.

At some point a couple of years later, I met him on the street and we traded pleasantries.

Sorry Ramona; if you pick this up; your dad was a great writer, and my sympathies go out to you and the rest of your family.

And now, what you've all been waiting to see, thanks to Ann Althouse (NSFW language):

F*ck Me, Ray Bradbury - watch more funny videos

Genius and Insanity Linked

Scientists Find Truth in "Mad Scientist" Stereotype: There Is a Link between Genius and Insanity

Genius and insanity may actually go together, according to scientists who found that mental illnesses like schizophrenia and bipolar disorder are often found in highly creative and intelligent people.

The link is being investigated by a group of scientists who had all suffered some form of mental disorder.

Bipolar sufferer Kay Redfield Jamison, a clinical psychologist and professor at Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine, said that findings of some 20 or 30 scientific studies confirms the idea of the "tortured genius" or "mad scientist".

Jamison said that creativity appears to be significantly linked to mood disorders, especially bipolar disorder. For instance, one 2010 study that tested the intelligence of 700,000 Swedish 16-year-olds found that highly intelligent adolescents were more likely to develop bipolar disorder in a decade-long follow-up. "They found that people who excelled when they were 16 years old were four times as likely to go on to develop bipolar disorder," Jamison said Thursday night during a panel discussion at New York’s World Science Festival.

I guess I'm just not smart enough to be insane.  Or am I? 

A Very Deceiving Night

A few months ago I received an E-mail from a reader who had seen one of my beach posts containing a mirage photo (at right):

The Beach, 2/27/11 Edition 

He asked if he could use the photo in a book he was writing about mirages, and offered to pay for it.  Of course, I was so flattered to have anyone read it and appreciate it, that I offered it to him for free, and even offered to send him the "original" unshrunken version if it would help.

Oh, and he told me that I had misidentified it when I changed my mind and called it an "inferior" type mirage.  Oh well...

A few days ago, he sent me a link to a free copy of the E-book "A Very Deceiving Night" by Tim Maltin.  Here is a link to the site to buy it (it wouldn't be very gracious to give away the free link he sent me, would it).

It is a book about the sinking of the Titanic, and the role that mirages and unusual atmospheric conditions at the site of the wreck may have helped cause the collision with the iceberg (a mirage like the one above may have concealed the iceberg until it was too late to change course), and made the tragedy worse by preventing the California, a nearby ship from recognizing the Titanic and coming to her aid.  I believe he has made a very convincing case that the mirages played a critical role in the events of that night.

The book draws extensively on the testimony of the survivors of the Titanic, and of the officers and crew of the rescue ships, as well as the ships records to show how the miraging conditions arose, and how they likely affected both the conditions that led to the collision with the iceberg and the rescue.  It also has many pictures of wild and wonderful mirages.

If you are at all interested in the Titanic, or mirages and similar phenomena, you should take a look at this.

Anyway, this was a very pleasant result of blogging.  Thanks Tim!

Did a Little More Fishing

Since the day was so nice, I decided to chase the wily Croaker this afternoon.  I left the harbor (seen at the left) around 1 PM, and tried all my usual Croaker holes.  Straight off the Harbor

 Down around Location X.

Up the Bay by the sand bar, near the end of our walk.  Note the two poles out bouncing bottom.  I was using Fishbites and not live worms, but in most cases they seem to work nearly as well, and they are a whole lot more convenient.

While Rod Holder held the croaker rods, I bounced a jig with a 6 inch albino BKD off the bottom, and I was fortunate enough to catch one 19 inch Striped Bass.  Here he is cooling his heels fins in the live well.  Croaker?  Not even a nibble.

Got Some Fishing In, At Last

It's been a long time, at least by my standards, since I got fishing.  Between trips to Alaska, wind, and various other events, I just don't seem to find the time.  Life happens.

I got out about 6:30 PM, after a quick dinner.

A cruise ship on the way down the Bay from Baltimore.  I suppose I could find out which one, but I'm not sure I care.


A view of the gas docks from "Location X".  The buoys in the foreground mark the exclusion zone around the intakes of "Location X".  A good little boy does not go inside the those buoys....

 Location X

Fishing was kind of slow, but eventually, right around sunset, the little fish that hang around the discharge started to get active.  I even found one that was 18 inches long to invite home for dinner (this wasn't it).

 A Location X sunset.

Ah, the Joys of Aging...

...When your eyeballs turn from jello to soup.

A few days before we were set to go on the the trip to Alaska, I noticed something odd was going on with my right eye (for those who have followed this, I had a cataract in my left eye operated on in October).  The vision was very cloudy, bright lights had huge halos and the cloudiness would come and go.  I had a notion of what was happening, so I didn't say anything to Georgia, and we went on the trip anyway.  It has continued to improve, but upon getting back I made an appointment to get it looked at, and went this afternoon.

While I had not remembered the name of the condition, I had guessed what it was pretty accurately.  It is called Posterior Vitreous Detachment, and it is caused by the aging of the "vitreous" (what we used to call vitreous humor or eyeball goo) of the eye, the clear goo that fills most of the eyeball.  When you are young, it is the consistency of jello, but at you age it becomes thin and watery, and shrinks away from the retina.  The remaining trash from this process forms floaters, often a large one which interferes with the vision.  Mine seems to wander around and get in the way fairly often, although the problem is becoming less pronounced daily. One symptom I missed was flashing spots (where the vitreous tugs on the retina as it pulls away).  Hey, we used to pay good money for that.

The good news is that it is basically harmless (though occasionally it can tear the retina), and the effects fade with time.  The bad news is that there is no simple and convenient treatment.  I asked the doc if she couldn't just stick a straw in there and suck out the crap, and she said that maybe a retina surgeon could, but that it wasn't worth the risk.

Transportation Purgatory

We just finished the trip back...

Turnagain Arm from the Bus

We got up yesterday morning at 5 AM Alaska time (EDT-4) on the ship to have breakfast, and catch a bus (excuse me, motor coach), from the dock in Seward to Anchorage to catch the plane.  The bus ride from Seward to Anchorage take about 3 hours through some pretty steep and tough looking country, finishing with a trip down Turnagain Arm, a branch of Cook Inlet with 30 ft tides.

We reached Anchorage Airport in three hours, plenty of time to catch the flight, had a bit of coffee, got a wheel chair for Mom, and struggled through security.

TSA must die...  We already know the agency would not necessarily have caught the last "underwear bomber" (although, the "naked" scanner caught me inadvertently trying to smuggle a crumpled up $1 bill in my front jean pocket. Of course, it had a false positive on my back, too).  The system we have now is simply "Security Theater" in an attempt to convince us that the feds are controlling terrorism.  The usual tradeoff of life for dollars is a  few million dollars per life, (it used to be about $6 million per preventable death was a rough line, but I suspect that inflation and stupidity has at least doubled that).  The TSA has an annual budget of circa 8 billion, so you would hope it would save at least a thousand  lives annually.  There's certainly no evidence that it has done that.  But they do carefully  check out 88 year old women in wheel chair.  It's easy; they don't move very fast.

Cook Inlet from the air

The cruise line had promised, for a fee, to have our large bags checked through all the way to Baltimore (and involving a change from Alaska to United Airlines), but a certain level of confusion had suggested it might not work perfectly.

The first leg of the flight back was from Anchorage to Portland, Oregon, where we changed planes, but stayed within the terminal and the security zone.  It took what seemed hours for mother to get off the plane, but we made the next flight out, Portland to San Francisco, without too much stress.

East Coast Sunrise

At San Francisco, we parted ways from Mom and Dad.  As we suspected, our baggage checked to Baltimore stopped at San Fran, and we had to go baggage to fetch it.  After saying goodby, we took our big bags up to a fresh check in with United, and a fresh trip through security in a different terminal.  After a little confusion, we found our gate, waited until Group 7 was called (I think that's after pigs but before chickens), and got onto the plane for the cross country leg, San Fran to Newark, New Jersey.  The plane was a little late, what with boarding all the pigs and chickens.  As we ran down the ramp to the plane, they announced that the overhead compartments were full and that our larger carry-ons would have to be checked at the gate, which we did dutifully, but not happily.  It was supposed to catch up with us in Baltimore...  It was now after 10 PM PDT.

We got some sleep crossing the country, and arrived in a driving rain storm (but no thunder) in Newark, a little late, some 7:00 AM EDT.  The next flight to Baltimore was scheduled for about 8:30, and left about an hour late, due to the pigs and chickens problem, as well as a very long line on the taxiway. 

We arrived in Baltimore about an hour late, but still moving.  One piece of the "carry-on" baggage that was supposed to catch up to us from San Francisco has not yet caught up with us; it apparently took a liking to Newark.  We made it home by 1 PM EDT, more than 24 hours after we started, and having stopped in five different airports, which is apparently a local record.

500 K!

Sometime in the last couple of days the hit counter went past 500,000. While most of you came for the pretty girls, I hope some of the rest of you found something else interesting.

Hopefully I'll have something from Skagway before the ship gets out range of the cell towers this evening.

Lite Blogging Alert

Georgia and I are off on a trip.  Hopefully, I'll be able to post some pictures from the IPad along the way.  Maybe you can figure out where they're from.

Hostile Iguana, Baby!

I Am So Not Perfect

The perfect man...

1. 6 feet tall
2. Toned and athletic
3. Brown eyes
4. Short dark hair
5. Smart dress sense
6. Beer drinker
7. Non-smoker
8. Wears smart jeans, shirt and a V-neck jumper
9. Gets ready in 17 minutes
10. Stylish
11. Wants a family
12. Earns £48,000 ($77,000) a year
13. Loves shopping
14. Eats meat
15. Clean shaven
16. Smooth chest
17. Watches soaps
18. Enjoys watching football
19. Drives an Audi
20. Educated to degree level
21. Earns more than his other half
22. Jokes around and has a laugh
23. Sensitive when his wife/girlfriend is upset
24. Says 'I love you' only when he means it
25. Admits it when he looks at other women
26. Has a driver's license
27. Can swim
28. Can ride a bike
29. Can change a tire
30. Calls mom regularly

13 out of 30?