Earlier today I was laughing about the mention on the news of a 2.9-magnitude earthquake near Concord; 2.9 hardly seems worth mentioning, and hardly would be felt. Then, about twenty minutes ago, our own house started shaking, dishes were rattling, and the cats went ballistic, their claws scrabbling frantically on the floor as they ran wildly about trying to figure out what to do, as we experienced what is currently being classified a 5.6-magnitude earthquake whose epicenter is down near San Jose. We’re fine; the shaking lasted about ten seconds, and there was a fair amount of noise from dishes and glasses rattling around, and one picture tilted slightly on the wall, but furniture stayed put and there was no damage. All in all, pretty mild—given our distance from the epicenter—but relatively long. The 1957 quake, which had its epicenter here in Daly City, was a 5.3, so it’s a little sobering to think how this one might have been different if it had been closer.
The cats are still a little spooked, but Tiki’s just come into the kitchen to eat, so they’re starting to calm down.
As the earthquake was happening, I updated my Facebook profile with the info, and posted a twit immediately after I filled out the USGS questionnaire; I was frustrated, in fact, that it was taking so long for the USGS site to update with the current quake so I could submit our experiences. I’m such a geek.
On my commute home from work last night, I started listening to a This American Life episode, entitled “Roadtrip!”, on my iPod. Ira Glass had just finished the introduction as I pulled up to my first traffic light where, looking around, I saw an SUV parked on the right side of the street, sporting the California license tag:
R♥ADTRP
After talking about it for a couple of months, and several trips to the Peninsula Humane Society, we came home Saturday afternoon from our most recent visit with two additions to our household, a 3-1/2-year-old male Maine Coon mix (right, top) and a 2-year-old female tortie (right, bottom; there are more photos of them on Flickr). We disliked the names they had been given by their previous owner—“Fuzz” and “Poof,” respectively—and since they don’t seem to respond to them anyway (maybe they don’t like them either) we’re planning to rename them. I’m pretty sure that we’ll call the energetic, rambunctious female “Tiki,” but we’re still searching for the right name for the male.
The two of them had come from the same home, and were offered by the shelter only as a pair; we had been planning to get two cats this time around, and Jeff had seen them on the shelter’s web site Friday and IM’ed me with the URL. The Maine Coon had a strong resemblance to Alex, and we both fell in love with them a little bit even before we’d seen them in person, I think.
At the shelter, we got to spend some time with them in one of the “get-acquainted” rooms, where the male seemed to warm up to us, while still remaining cautious, fairly quickly, but the more skittish female just kept making rounds of the room’s perimeter, not letting us get within a couple of feet before running away. Within a half-hour, though, she eventually would come over and head butt an outstretched hand before skittering away again. Knowing that we couldn’t really judge them from their behavior in such a stressful environment and such a very short time, we decided to just go for it, and we left the shelter a short while later, each of us with an occupied cardboard cat carrier.
It’s so interesting to see how their personalities differ so much from Alex’s and from one another’s, and how they’re changing before our eyes. On Saturday when we got home and let them out of their carriers, the male—who had been the friendlier, more curious at the shelter—slinking immediately over to and then inside and to the back of the fireplace, where he stayed for a while, emerging to make his way to the bedroom and under the bed, where he didn’t emerge again until just before bedtime. The female immediately started exploring the entire house, running and sliding on the wood floors. She’s still a little skittish, and we have to be very deliberate and slow when moving toward her, lest she bolt, but she is permitting some petting and head scratching. The male still likes to hide a fair amount (under furniture, on top of dining room chairs, under the bed, behind the futon), but he’s getting out and about more and more. Neither of them like to be picked up, at least not yet, nor have they shown much inclination at being lap cats (though he has jumped onto my lap at the computer desk a couple of times, though never staying for more than a few seconds). However, both already have begun sleeping on the bed, at our feet.
So neither of them is the extraordinarily social cat that Alex was—then again, Alex was perhaps the most social cat I’ve ever known, so it’s not completely a fair comparison—but they’re showing signs of warming up, at least to us, even after just two days. I’m betting that they’ll probably never be as extroverted as Alex was, and probably always remain somewhat skittish around strangers—hopefully they’ll outgrow that with us, in time—but they could surprise me.
They’re really gorgeous creatures; I don’t think these pictures really do them justice, especially of her. I’ve always been more partial to long-haired cats, and especially to Maine Coons or Maine Coon mixes, but I really find her extraordinarily beautiful, especially when the sun hits her fur and brings out the other tortoiseshell colors among the predominant black. Her most striking feature, though, is her round, amazingly golden eyes. Though casually the male is a ringer for Alex, there are clear differences; where Alex shaded to cream, for example, this cat shades to a fairly brilliant white. His paws and head are bigger in proportion to his body, common among the breed, but to a greater degree even than Alex’s. As did Alex, the new kitty has noticeable tufts of fur from the ears and between the toes, and the same fluffy feather-duster (as we’ve discovered as he trailed enormous dust bunnies when he emerged from beneath the bed) raccoon tail. Alex, however, had a slightly more traditional meow, while the new cat has the unusual warbling trill often heard with Maine Coons; Jeff said the sound reminds him of a tribble.
One thing I really miss, though, is Alex’s loud and frequent (nearly continual) purr, which I found very soothing and reassuring. I don’t think I’ve heard the new male purr yet, and the female only briefly and very quietly. Perhaps as they become more accustomed to us and to the house, and understand that this is their home and that they’re safe here, we’ll be treated to more frequent rumbling purrs.
In any case, Jeff and I are both really happy to have the cats here with us; the whole process has been really moving. And this is Jeff’s first time to choose a pet; Alex and I already had been living together six years before Jeff joined our family, so this is a completely different experience for him, and even more so since he’s home with the new cats all day. I think he’s enjoying going through the process.
Yes, apparently peanut butter provides proof that god exists.
As sad as the creationists are, their stupidity sometimes engenders great hilarity.
This morning on the way to work I stopped off at San Francisco City Hall, filled a parking meter with a huge handful of spare change—for a grand total of only 29 minutes—and went to the Office of the County Clerk, where 19 minutes and a check for $112 later, I was sworn in as a deputy marriage commissioner (albeit valid only for the solemnization of one specific marriage on the date of October 20).
Part of the process was kind of amusing; I was given a photocopy of my friends’ marriage license, and was asked to sign and print my name and print my mailing address. The documentation provided makes it VERY CLEAR that I have to stay within the boxes and may not cross-out, white-out or write-over any information, so this was my test run to prove that I could stay within the lines. This is serious, for as the County web site points out, “The office of the County Clerk has a right to refuse deputization of a person, should the office feel that the person is unable to complete the paperwork correctly.”
I then had to swear or affirm (my choice)—right hand raised and all—that I would uphold the Constitution of the United States. Figuring that the current president and congress have set a pretty low bar for that task, I readily affirmed.
This isn’t an explanation why; it’s an honest (if hyperbolic) self-entreaty. What exactly does having a Democratic-controlled Congress give us? We haven’t seen any real pushback on Bush’s unitary executive claims. We haven’t gotten any movement on addressing civil liberty abuses and curbs. We can’t seem to get any bills out to control war spending or bring our troops home. We still have “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” and gay Arabic linguists continue to be thrown out of the armed services. The list goes on and on and on…
What do we get instead?
A Senate resolution, passed by a 72 to 25 vote, condemning the free speech of MoveOn.org, for its (admittedly perhaps somewhat over-the-top) advertisement that ran in the New York Times attacking Gen. Petraeus. (Buried in a Washington Post story noting that an anti-war bill was blocked by nearly the same margins.)
The time and taxpayer money that the Senate just wasted on making non-binding resolutions that would police ad content—first amendment, anyone?—makes about as much sense as the time and taxpayer money the State of Minnesota wastes in assigning policemen to sit for hours on end in public restrooms, waiting for sexual advances. MoveOn? I say, rather, “Move on, already! Enough of this bullshit, Senators!”
I am so totally disgusted by the lot of ‘em.
From a mailing to the Harvard Gay and Lesbian Caucus:
My name is Benjamin Donner and I am a clinical psychology doctoral student at the University of Massachusetts, Boston. I am currently carrying out my dissertation research on gay identity development across cultural groups in the United States, and thought you might be willing and/or able to help distribute my survey to individuals interested in contributing to cultural equality within the psychological literature, both within the Harvard community and outside of it.
As you may know, academic studies into the developmental experiences of gay and bisexual men are extremely scarce. It is my hope that this research project will shed greater light on those experiences that may be unique to specific cultural groups of gay and bisexual males in the U.S. so that clinicians and organizations are ultimately better equipped to both assist and appreciate our strengths and needs. With that in mind, I would greatly appreciate your distribution of my internet survey to individuals who might be willing to participate. Participants must be biological males, age 18 or over, residents of the United States, and attracted to other biological males. The survey should take between 10 and 15 minutes to complete. All responses will be entirely anonymous - email and IP addresses will not be requested or even identifiable - and will be kept in the strictest of confidence. If you’re willing to share it with others, the survey can be found online at the following link:
https://www.surveymonkey.com/s.aspx?sm=rjif1K1SdRN_2bBC3hVcT6Pg_3d_3d
Have all the copy editors at nytimes.com been laid off? Most days it feels like I can’t read an article there without finding at least one mistake. The current top feature, for example, entitled “Democrats Place Hurdle to Mukasey’s Nomination”, contains two errors in just the single paragraph below, one of which—a missing verb—even leaves the meaning, or at least the particular nuances thereof, somewhat unclear:
Mr. Mukasey himself has attracted criticism, notably from civil liberties advocates, who say he has been to [sic] supportive of law enforcement while on the bench. But he has sometimes [mollified? been praised by? puzzled? thumbed his nose at? what?] such critics, as he did with his handling of the case of Jose Padilla, an American citizen suspected of membership in Al Qaeda. Although Mr. Mukasey backed the White House by ruling that Mr. Padilla could be held as an enemy combatant—a decision overturned on appeal—he also defied the administration by saying Mr. Padilla was entitled to legal counsel.
On a more positive note, however, the Times also has noted that they will no longer charge for access to TimesSelect or recent archives. While I personally already enjoy free access to TimesSelect and the Times archives through my university, I really applaud this decision.
Tomorrow morning I have a 7:00 flight to San Diego, where I’ll be attending a conference at UCSD (which technically is in La Jolla) for the editors/managers of the top-level University websites across the UC system, so I’ll be meeting my peers, for the first time, from the other campuses. It’s a short trip; I’ll be returning Friday evening.
It’s my second trip to San Diego, the first having been last December when Jeff and I took advantage of cheap Southwest fares to go just for a very quick weekend, flying down Friday evening after work and returning Sunday night. As part of my attempt to live a tiki life, we stayed at the cool Humphrey Half-Moon Inn and Suites on Shelter Island and had brunch on Sunday at the Bali Hai.
Jeff posted a fairly comprehensive report about the weekend at the end of December, and his Flickr set from the trip is very representative of the things we did and saw, including the hotel, the restaurant, Old Town, Hillcrest, Balboa Park, Coronado Island, and LEGOLAND. I also have some photos from the trip up on Flickr as well, though so far of only a subset of our activities there; I just uploaded some from LEGOLAND earlier this week, though, and more photos from that trip are forthcoming.
I was the one in my extended family that everyone expected would leave home, despite strong familiar pressures to stay, if not in my small rural hometown at least nearby. When I went away to college in Massachusetts and came out of the closet, I knew that as much as I loved my family I’d never be able comfortably to live in the conservative southern Virginia mountain town, so my folks gradually and reluctantly accepted that I’d likely be living far away. When Hal and I decided to leave Boston in 1987, and didn’t really have a strong shared opinion about where to move, my family lobbied heavily for Washington, DC, since it would be only a four-hour drive away. And that’s where we ended up at that point. I always said that I wanted to head west, though, most likely to San Francisco, and even came extremely close to relocating to Seattle in 1992, but some warning bells about the job, and a burgeoning relationship with Jay, kept me in Arlington. But the family had resigned themselves by then to the expectation that I’d be moving to California sometime over the next few years.
As the years went by and that didn’t happen, though, I think they started to start thinking I would stay in DC. In the meantime, my youngest cousin (there were six in our generation, as my dad and his two sisters each had two kids, a boy and a girl) had graduated from UVa and had moved to the DC area as well. In many ways, he and I were the two black sheep of the family, the only two to go away to college (only one other cousin, in fact, finished a four-year degree, but she never left home, and still lives in the same house in which she grew up), and the only two who didn’t come back to southwestern Virginia to live.
In fact, in 1997 my cousin and his then-fiancee moved to San Francisco themselves, surprisingly beating me out here by ten years. They married the following year, and now live in Oakland with their two young daughters. Since Jeff and I moved out here, though, we hadn’t yet seen or spoken to them (they hadn’t been able to come to Covington for Christmas last year, which is the one time each year I’d usually see them).
My aunt flew out to visit my cousin and his family last week, so while she was here we made plans to get together, and they invited us over for dinner on Labor Day. It was not only my first time at their house, but my first visit to Oakland (except for the airport) since moving here fourteen months ago.
They have a beautiful near-century-old house in a charming neighborhood not far from Lake Merritt. We had a really nice time visiting them, and a wonderful meal (my cousin’s wife put together a clambake, with clams, shrimp, mussels, corn on the cob, and green beans, as an homage to her own childhood in Connecticut), and were introduced to a great couple who live up the street from them, an adorably cute cop and a former nanny with an adorably cute Leicestershire accent, and their two adorably cute little boys who often play with my cousin’s two girls.
We’ll see them again at Christmas, back in Covington, but I’m hoping we’ll get together with them out here more often now, too.
