Do Crazy Old Chinese Women Dream of Technicolor Lamingtons? (sorry exceedingly long trip report with heaps of errors)

So, my 11 days away from Bishop, my 9 days in New Zealand were an extended dream.

I had the flu. I danced so hard I was crippled. I met so many folks I already knew through years of emails, etc. I scared young boys with my enthusiasm for their bands. I pinched the smooth arms of Peter Keen, a man who sings the angel songs inside my head. I got asthma and went to urgent care. I missed Wyatt and Matt for the first time ever, because I've never really been away from them.

I did not drink nearly enough wine. I subsisted on a diet of Omega plums - my gorgeous, tart, S. Island Omegas were in season- and cappuccinos.

I saw the son of my childhood friend walk home from school on my way through their moderate sized (pop. 30,000) town. I so wanted to jump out of the car to say "hello!", but reckoned that they teach New Zealand kids not to talk to strangers, too.

I scared the little brother of one person I know so badly that he moved seats on the bus we were riding into town together. It's just that I recognized him from the Phoenix Foundation's "Bright Grey" video and family snapshots on blogs and kept looking to double check that it was him. Poor bastard.

I bought a fantastic wee painting of Pohutukawa (NZ Christmas tree) from a fellow Phoenix Foundation fan.

I met the very nice Liam Ryan, the man behind the voice I listen to 4 days a week (He's a DJ on Radio Active). He is a walking encyclopedia of pop/rock/reggae.

I fired my synapses overtime playing, "Who is this New Zealander and why should I know her/him?"

I got good at texting and calling on cellphones. (There isn't a real need for it here in Bishop).

I got to have the New Zealand music conversations I have inside my head out loud....with people to boot!

I saw my dear tomato growing partners Glenn and Jan again and told them that when I met Glenn in 2004, I didn't think he'd live long enough for me to see him again. I told them that I thought they were in much better shape now than five years ago. We swam through the wildness of their glasshouses, parting the ferns, banana trees, taros, everything they have taken up in retirement. On my way out of town, they took me to the park in town, where rainforests stood side by side with manicured cricket lawns. Magic.

The Matthew Bannister/Able Tasmans/Humphreys and Keen/The Puddle gig was such a thing of beauty. I danced in a corner in a terribly inappropriately sheer dress and beige bra combo which had the misfortune of making me look like a reject from a Sears' Plus Size mannequin factory. The punters at the show were so lovely, so welcoming, though. Matthew Bannister and his musical partner Paula Law sang observationally pithy songs with such beautiful voices. I hung onto every note of the Able Tasmans (I am only a recent convert to their oeuvre, to my shame) and Humphreys and Keen sets. Peter Keen and Graeme Humphreys rendered the songs as if singing to a room of old mates, sometimes starting over- having never really perfomed these songs live before- in their quest to do right by them. Bless. I bleated like a baby lamb when their set ended on the last line from their last song on "The Overflow" - "You'll know just enough to break my heart in ev'ry single way." Break it they did. It was neat to see George D. Henderson (and dear fellow Phoenix Foundation fan friend Ian Henderson!) in the Puddle. Looking at George Henderson, you get the feeling that this man has survived a lot and when he sings about love, you get the feeling that he's thought a lot about it. Thank you Owen Harris for organizing the show and for the warm welcome and thank you Steven Schayer for the instant friendship. Thank you Ian Henderson for being just the good guy that you are and have always been.

Over the Atlantic showed that a year of hard touring around the world makes you fine musicians, even in the face of dumb young punters up wayyyy too late in the middle of the night. Nik and Ash and Rhys all play like houses on fire. They are more muscular than ever and the addition of Liz on keys makes their wall of sound even fuller. I love that the year of touring hadn't changed Nik and Ash's loveliness. It was nice to meet Nik's folks and sisters, too. I am suffering a bit of shock because as "purdy" as their second CD -Dimensions- is, it does not prepare you for their sonic live show. Bibi said that it was the second loudest show she'd been to.

Seeing the SJD Band, in the rain in Wellington, was worth the 04:30 wake up call to catch a flight from Auckland to Wellington in a cyclone. I pounded six ibuprofin to get there and to stay upright in the midst of the flu, and it was worth it all. Sean Donnelly is a ringleader of a fine circus of amazing performers. Sandy Mill is even more amazing in person than on record. She sings with great ability and range and plays percussion. Dominic Blaazer on keys is cheeky and his bv are a fine compliment. James Duncan's guitar adds an organic warmth to counter to sometimes two sets of keyboards. I know why lovely Chris O'Connor is a drummer in demand. Paul McLaney was not there and, frankly, it might have been a distraction to have another singer. Sean Donnelly's songs are deeper and more touching than a cursory listen would indicate, and this is really apparent when you are sick in a mud pit. I am going to make a mix tape of the studio versions of all the songs they did. It was that much of a show of joy. I was gobsmacked when Sean dedicated "Beautiful Haze" to me.

Dan Adams' solo opener, under the moniker Colossal Colossus, in the lovely wee community Breaker Bay Hall with himself on loops (recording bits and playing them back in the course of the song to make a fuller sound) made my head spin and my heart soar. His layering of vocals in "Full Fathom Five" still haunts me. He closed the show with a very very special unlooped "Million Dollar View" (with a kind shout out), which made me very happy. It was lovely to meet the extraordinary photographer and extraordinarily kind Robert Catto that night, too. Robert's multitalented wife Delia drummed in headlining Milkthistle. I spent a day with Dan and his beautiful, intelligent, and creative wife Mary and their newborn Nina. We had breakky (poached eggs and lattes of course!) at the atmospheric Maranui Cafe in Lyall Bay. Rodney (my best mate from college and the friend who introduced me to Matty) cycled out to join us. It was a gorgeously sunny and dry day. After brunch, we drve around the wee communities along the water, we dropped Mary and Nina off, and we headed up to Poirurua for Dan's lecture at Whitireia Polytechnic. The lecture was to students in the first third of their studies and discussed vocals. Dan had visual and audio clips for everything he wanted to discuss, voice as instrument, families who sing together, the magic of a good vocal, emotion as a conditioner to vocals, etc. I wish I had more professors who were this passionate about teaching and about their subject. We swung back to Wellington's waterfront for a gelato and some NZ music and National Radio gossip. The he took me to Karori, where the Adamses lived, where two generations of the family were married, where the Adams boys explored the WWII gun turret that inspired the song "Tunnels in the Hill". We finished the day with a wee hike at Makara Beach, where I got to stand on the West Coast again. Gorgeous. Dan's folks, who gave us a lift back from Breaker Bay, are quite remarkable, and Dad is a Mutton Birds' fan, too!

Will Ricketts, percussionist for the Phoenix Foundation, was a joy to be with for the hour we "hung." He was so focused and happy about making his own music. He'd been up to 04:30 recording the night before. He has a new solo CD that will be released soon named "John Dryden" after his famous poet relation. The tracks are quite different from one another but taken together, they make a wonderful, wonderful summer album. It hangs together really well.

One night, we were supposed to either go see Spartacus R and Ragamuffin Children or the Mint Chicks, but ended up seeing Sam Scott, who took us up to where the Phoenix Foundation practice and record. We three sat around and gassed about New Zealand music gossip and the shows we'd seen so far. He recorded Bibi and me clapping on one track for the new album. Sadly, Chinese Americans are not known for their rhythm. For all of Bibi's Southern ability to keep time, I dorked out and won't be surprised if our clapping can't get used. Sorry, Bibi Dude! It was a lovely to see Sam for a bit. I teased that his wedding band ("kept man band") looked good on him, and it does. I feel squishy inside when I see Sam Scott. To my great shame, I was driving up the Kapiti Coast and missed seeing Richie (TPF drummer) Brett (TPF soundman) who were waiting for me at Fidels on Cuba Street.

I am a bit in love with the Cassette band. I like their rangy Americana and the kind of boy meets girl and writes a country song about it approach to tunes. Luke "love me, I'm Polish" Buda was playing around Auckland and Cassette were his band. At Cassette No. 9 (the same young venue with the young punters where we saw Over the Atlantic), Cassette were the headliners on a bill with White Swan/Black Swan, a duo featuring Ben Arch Hill/Suprette Howe and his musical partner Sonya Waters- with their lovely vocal and narrative juxtapositions; an unmemorable kitschy Americana band; and Luke Buda. Luke was excited for us to see Cassette and warned that Tom Watson (a fella I ran up to at the SJD show to say "Hullo, I'm seeing your show in Auckland next week and boy, am I looking forward to it!" To which, rather stunned, he replied, "Hi, I'm Tom.") was quite a guitarist. True that. Craig Terris on drums and excellent backing vocals is a revelation, too. Bibi and I sat with Luke for quite a while. We chatted about sons, Phoenix touring the States, Phoenix touring Europe, the economics of touring, NZ music gossip, swearing in America, American politics, etc. Luke is the man I feel quite related to. Maybe it's because our sons are pretty close in age or maybe it's just because he is often quite honestly disarming, but in a gentle and good natured way. He is blessed with songwriting talent, a wonderful partner, and two sons now. Because Cassette drummer Craig Terris decided to dedicate a song to a heckler in the crowd, Luke ended up dedicating the following "My Imminent Demise" to Bishop, California! Bless.

Bibi was a trooper. I tend to get quite withdrawn towards the end of trips, and she admirably just gave me space. We had a few wee breaks from doing things together during the trip, which was great. It allowed us to form distinct memories and to make the trip our very own. Luckily, she didn't get sick and could drink wine, so had a few winetasting adventures while I hung out with the Adamses and the Parkers. She handled the very very late nights admirably.

Rodney and Carla were troopers and wonderful to us. We invaded their apartment in Newtown, with Bibi and I taking turns in the lounge. I promptly made Rodney sick and it was the week he was starting grad school at night (MBA from Vic Uni). Still, he dragged his ass out to have fish and chips lunch with us. They gave us their phones, showed us how to catch the buses into town, cooked for us, and got us Indian takeaways. One night, we four played grown ups and went to Logan Brown for the fabby and cheap (with the $2 NZD to $1 USD exchange rate, three courses ran about $20) prix fixe meal.

I ditched the harpy for a bit.

I didn't die driving between Welly and New Plymouth.

Mission accomplished.

Sunday is here. Tuesday is coming.

Glenn very very good. His wife Jan says that he tells all the neighbors that his "American girlfriend" is coming. To which I say, "Won't they be surprised when the Chinese mail order bride arrives?" We three had a long ol' chat on the phone the other day, and his brain is just in the process of "resetting." The wee stroke was his wake up call to get his blood pressure under control and to get fit. Not bad goals.

I have been having a hell of a time sleeping. Too much adrenaline. Last night, I stayed awake for four hours AFTER going to bed with an ambien. I did have a scare with Wyatt after I put my head down - his blood sugars were a little low going into the night, and it took ages to try to rouse him for some juice. I got scared then angry. Poor little buggar, all he wanted was sleep.

Every one has been so lovely. My folks don't object to my going. My in-laws are lovely. They gave me a card with some cash and told me to have fun. They said to say "hi" to Mel, the stalker in the Flight of the Conchords show. Funny people.

It's 2 in the morning and I was awake anyway

Wyatt: (sound of disturbed sleep) Mommy...Daddy!
Mommy: Hi Wyatt. What's wrong?
Wyatt: (clear as a bell) Nothing. I just wanted to say "hi."

He's been sleeping on a cot at the foot of our bed since his numbers started going haywire. It's comforting to be there for him when he's scared, when he's sick. Makes up for all our crabbiness during the day, when daylight is burning, when there is work to be done, when somebody is being stroppy, when there are the distractions that make you forget where you fit in the grand scheme of things.

A million thoughts to Glenn Parker

he's my tomato partner in crime in New Plymouth, New Zealand. He has had what his daughter termed a "small" stroke, but I know those Parkers. They tend to sandbag these things. I was supposed to stay with Glenn and his wife Jan around the 4th of March and of course, the note I got tonight said, "Dad and Mum still say you are very welcomed to stay." Just like them.

I have been friends with Glenn and lovely Jan for someodd 8 or so years now. We email eachother so regularly, that I get to feeling that something is amiss in the universe when two weeks goes by without a note. We compare the things falling off our bodies, getting fat, getting fit, politics, what's growing in the garden in general, and of course, tomatoes.

Glenn introduced the Kosovo tomato commercially. It is everyone's favorite - as it should be.

I do hope that it was a small stroke and that he's on his way to recovery.

The daunting Glucagon

So, when Wyatt had the gastro, his numbers plummeted, and one night, they just wouldn't go back into range. Between 100-200 is optimal for a kid. Below 80 requires active intervention with carbohydrates. He was 54, which was getting dangerous. I pumped him with 45 grams of carbohydrates in the form of juice over 90 minutes. Normally, this would have skyrocketed Wyatt well past 200, but he started to drop even more.

I remembered something Matty read out loud from the big reference book about using glucagon in times of stomach flus and thought we'd better use it, even if Wyatt wasn't passed out. Normally, glucagon is reserved for when diabetics can't swallow and/or are in a hypoglycemic coma.

I woke Matty up to do the conversion math at about 2am. We decided on the minidosing regimen for which there were heaps of abstracts of studies and general instructions online. Trouble was, half the instructions were in volumes by weight and the other half were in units on a syringe. We bickered a bit. It helped to see on the glucagon instructions a box indicating that it was impossible to overadminister it. Bless Matty the Mathlete (yes, he was a high school mathlete), because he sussed it out, and we were able to use the normal small syringe we use for everything and not the large animal issue that comes in the glucagon kit (see above).

With our wee minidose, Wyatt's liver dumped sugars into his bloodstream, and he started to metabolize sugar again. We'd been prepared that glucagon could cause vomiting, so I had the boy sleep on his stomach. Sure enough, he barfed about two hours later. Oh, and he sponteneously crapped, too. After a clean up, we got to bed by 4.

I am grateful that Susan, our pharmacist kept giving us glucagon kits to leave around the house because we'd met our deductible and at that point, they were free. I am glad that the kit was not too hard to use in the end (that instruction sheet you see is double sided). The kit also saved us a 911 call or a trip to the emergency room.

Diabetes is the disease that keeps parents on their toes. As soon as the gastro ended, the boy caught a cold and his sugars have been very high.....

Yet another New Zealand music geek out post, but this time, I'm Aotearoa bound

After much hmming and hahhhing and talking it over with the powers that be, I've decided to go to New Zealand for a week and a half with Bibi. Bibi is my New Zealand music partner in crime. We met over the Mutton Birds. She taught me about the Flying Nun back catalog, and I introduced her to the Phoenix Foundation and SJD.

I owe Matty, my dear friend and boss Diane, and various friends and family heaps of thanks for making this possible. I owe United Mileage Plus for getting me there (I needed 80,000 miles I had just attained the balance of 80,040).

I owe a fella I haven't yet met heaps of thanks for hosting private a Humphreys and Keen gig in Auckland for his birthday. I owe Ian Henderson, a penfriend of several years, heaps of thanks for giving me the heads up that the Puddle, a band he drums for, would be opening for Humphreys and Keen.

So, in the week and a half, I hope to (no particular order):
See Humphreys and Keen, opened by the Puddle, and Matthew Bannister in Auckland
See Over the Atlantic (the wonderful fellas who played our living room last spring) in AKL
See SJD (purveyor of thinking person's dance music and some of my favorite songs) in Wellington, at a beerfestival where I also hope to see past Bar Bodega owner Fraser McInnes
See Dan Adams (a composer and performer we saw at the 2004 NZ Arts Festival. We have kept in touch over the years since) in WLG
See Luke Buda, opened by Black Swan/White Swan, and Cassette in AKL the night before I fly home
Stay with Rodney, my best mate from uni, and his wife Carla in WLG. I will be bearing ungodly amounts of corn tortillas, pickled jalepenos, and green salsa (Carla is Mexican) and DVDs.
Spend the night with Glenn and Jan Parker, my tomato partners in crime in New Plymouth
Say "hi" to Liam Luff, the Radio Active DJ who turned me onto the Phoenix Foundation back in 2002, and who has provided invaluable advice along the way.
Say "hi" to Steve Dean, a penfriend from the Mutton Birds' list and sender of fine packages, in WLG
See Enaj, the girl I grew up with in the Valley, in Wanganui
Drink Ata Rangi Pinot Noir, my fav of all-time, in Martinborough (I have had the 02, 03, 04 vintages)
Meet Walter, a fella who is a friend of Lesley's here in Bishop and an old coworker of Luke Buda's, who does improvisational drama and will have a poster by Mat Hunkin, an artist I quite like, for me.
Buy a wee Pohutukawa painting from a fellow Phoenix Foundation fan.

This will be the first trip in five that I don't go to the South Island. Strange.

I have written the draft of a letter I will leave for Babbo. I am a worrier and wonder what it would be like if I died over there. My writing the letter is my acknowledgment that all things are possible. The letter itself is my acknowledgment that for all my disciplining, I am incredibly proud of Wyatt and quite love his very open personality. I have every intention of coming home on time, ready for loving and parenting. I do need this break, though.

I hope to ditch my humorless harpy somewhere over the Pacific.

In other NZ Music news, I had asked around re: the opening lyrics to the Able Tasmans' song "Angry Martyr" and got around to asking its singer and lyricist Peter Keen. To my surprise, he told me. Apparently, it'd been the subject of many a conjecture over the years, and he'd never got around to telling. I don't know how I feel about being the latecomer to the party, but the first to find out. Honored is one thing, but was I worthy?

30 Albums That Changed Your Life

(from a Facebook exercise)
Doing this list, I realized I was more suited to making mixtapes. I'm a singles woman in the end.
Thank you to Karen O' Leary for laying down the gauntlet. It was hard and fun.
There are a few embarrassing things, and many would not be desert island disc candidates now.
I would love to read others' lists.


1) The Lark, Soundtrack to a 1960s Shaw Brothers' film. In Mandarin. Haven't the foggiest idea what they're on about.
2) West Side Story, Soundtrack, Film. Because when you're a jet, you're a jet all the way. Or, maybe it's because the Sharks were hot in the orange face paint?
3)The Carpenters, Singles 1969 -1973. Every whoa oh oh. My first or second LP.
4) The Singing Detective, Soundtrack, Television.
5) Jean Redpath, Song of the Seals. Celtic songs about chicks who ruin their families' honor and get the silver dagger treatment from their pissed off fathers/brothers/mothers floated my boat and formed my opinions on love when I was 16.
6) Shirley Bassey, Love is a Many Splendored Thing.
7) Linda and Richard Thompson, Shoot Out the Lights. A primer on how to have the world's ugliest divorce.
8) Fairport Convention, Unhalfbricking.
9) Squeeze, East Side Story. Pure pop confection.
10) Elvis Costello, Imperial Bedroom.
11) Ella Fitzgerald, Live in Rome. "I Loves You Porgy" has a note in it that Ella bends and makes me shiver.
12) Roberta Flack, First Take. The woman could sing her ass off. This was her first release, and she sings Leonard Cohen's "Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye." When I was 14, a boy I loved said he would probably try drugs, and I spent a whole weekend listening to this damn song and crying like an idiot because he was going to die - DIE I TELLS YA! He didn't die. We are still friends, even if we both have fewer brain cells.
13) Sam Cooke, Night Beat. Horny and sad Sam Cooke. Probably the same one who got himself killed in that fleabag motel.
14) Crowded House, Together Alone. It reminds me of living in Truckee, California under a million feet of snow and among exploding homebrew bottles. Matty and I set up our first house to it.
15) Nat "King" Cole, Nat King Cole Story.
16) Van Morrison, Moondance. The album that heralded my impending adolescence.
17) Humphreys and Keen, The Overflow. My romantic notion for adulthood. The album I keep pimping, I know. Sorry Karen O'.
18) The Phoenix Foundation, Horsepower. God damned, I love these boys so very much.
19) The Phoenix Foundation, Happy Ending. I love them so very much that I am skipping over the Front Lawn and SJD and Paul Kelly to have two of their releases on this list. Sorry Sean (but you would rule my mixtapes).
20) Topless Women Talk About Their Lives, Soundtrack. Quite a few of the mighty Flying Nun stable are well represented.
21) The Mutton Birds, Nature. What precipitated falling off the deep end over New Zealand pop. It's Hong Kong 1995, and I'm sweaty and delirious with the flu, with this on repeat for 14 hours at a time.
22) The Mutton Birds, Envy of Angels.
23) X, Los Angeles. Punk where there was no punk before.
24) Radiohead, The Bends.
25) Aztec Camera, High Land, Hard Rain. I was an impressionable teen and 18 year old Roddy Frame was a genius. This could be interchanged with Prefab Sprout's Steve McQueen/Two Wheels Good. You decide.
26) Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys, Any greatest hits compilation with "Dusty Skies." Reminds me of driving aimlessly and eating too many molten meat pies around New Zealand.
27) Pulp, A Different Class.
28) Aimee Mann, I'm with Stupid. I learned to garden to this.
29) Glenn Gould, The Goldberg Variations, the later one when he's all humming all the time.
30) Beatles, Hard Day's Night Soundtrack

poker and potluck babies and pies

NB: the tin of Missouri Spudmaster chips the size of Matt and Zach's heads.

New fathers

Getting to the last of the Pinos Pies :(

Babbo holding Wayland and super psyched about it.

The Bacon Explosion v. 1 aka Vegetarians, Avert Your Eyes!

the basketweave

Houston, we have germination and other slow news day reports

The 2009 growing season is off! First sets of true leaves are coming in on the Japanese Black Trifele and the Grandeur (F1) tomatoes. The Pimientos de Padron peppers are up and will have their true leaves in about a week. The combination of the old propane stove coupled with the new wee grow light (a Christmas pressie from my mother in law) is pretty good for getting seedlings started.

My mother in law came down for an impromptu visit, and no tears were shed over the course of the weekend, no Xanax consumed. This was a pretty fine victory. I am heartened. She did ask if Matt and I were alcoholics and if we were going to church. I, to my own detriment, said something to the effect, "I REALLY love the idea of alcohol, but just can't drink very much of it." I am the daughter of an alcoholic, so I am aware of the devastation it can cause. But I am 40. You would think I would know by now if I was headed down that road. My one to two drinks a night, a few times a week does not convince me it's going to happen. She asked if we were going to church because there is a light up Jesus picture Matt found at the dump in our bathroom and a Jesus air freshener on our fridge.

I am obsessed with an Able Tasmans' song called "Angry Martyr" and cannot for the life of me figure out the first line or the bit sounds like a round. It's about a girl and god, near as I can tell.

Wyatt had a quick bout of gastroenteritis and it made his blood sugars plummet. That was a first. Viruses usually mean that they surge. Diabetes, the disease that keeps everyone on their toes.

Parties, pork products, and playdates. Life is full of those at the mo'. I made a bacon explosion because the blog link was sent to me by no less than two different fellas on the same day and because the article about it was the top story over at the New York Times. Two pounds of bacon and two pounds of Italian sausage, barbecue sauce, and heated smoke. Pictures to follow.

It is done

Goodbye and good riddance to the Bush Administration.
Greetings and a huge measure of good luck to the new Obama Administration.

A thought to Sam Cooke's "A Change Is Gonna Come"


I was born by the river in a little tent
And just like the river, I've been running ever since
It's been a long time coming
But I know a change is gonna come

It's been too hard living, but I'm afraid to die

I don't know what's up there beyond the sky

It's been a long time coming

But I know a change is gonna come

I go to the movie, and I go downtown

Somebody keep telling me "Don't hang around"

It's been a long time coming

But I know a change is gonna come

Then I go to my brother and I say, "Brother, help me please"

But he winds up knocking me back down on my knees

There've been times that I've thought I couldn't last for long

But now I think I'm able to carry on

It's been a long time coming

But I know a change is gonna come

Hosteling international

Matt and Bev from Otley, England, have been here since after Christmas. They are working on their bouldering projects/problems. Matt is the healthiest I've ever seen him, and that's a good thing. They are easy to be with, and Matt still makes lovely curries and Beef and Guinness stews.

Masa and Chris from Vancouver came by for two nights. Masa got shite weather here in Bishop last year, so our endless days of "bluebird" have been a lovely treat.

Matty took all of them shooting - killing clay pigeons with a shotgun and killing tin cans with my wee 22 rifle.

Janet came back from the Bay Area.

It's been a crowded house of sorts, but February will come and all will go quiet again.

Rode my bike to Round Valley and back the last two weekends. A round trip is 35 miles. It's been awesome.

Schoberlew's miscellany

• We had a pity party last night, where those interested could send bad news up in flames. It's been hard to get a clean slate with a bit of psychic goo residue left over from last year.
  
• I send deep and sincere positive thoughts to one of my dearest friends ever.
• Wyatt's GERD is back. Ugh. Oh well. He vomited in our bed the last few mornings. At least we know the Prevacid works and we have the insurance to cover the $3.25 a day it costs for prescriptions.
  
• I got subpoenaed by a county sheriff today. I had been expecting it. I was cheerful. He was shocked.
• Peter Keen (see post below) gave me some lovely cooking tips for a tapas pepper called Pimientos de Padron. I am still floating.
  

The world according to Peter Keen

Thank you SC for sending this along.

Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, the song that still sends shivers up my spine after nearly three years of endless play. Peter Keen, the singer and lyricist, works aboard the research vessel the Discovery for about SIX months a year. Graeme Humphreys, the composer, is a shock jock on New Zealand radio.

You can hear songs and find out more on their Myspace page.

Huge gaping hole and hope

There is a post that I have to save in draft mode until all the crap that surrounds it blows over. I don't mean to be cryptic, but a call from a private investigator on Christmas Eve pitched me into a deep funk, I had a write about it (the draft), and I am feeling much better. Wyatt is fine. Matty is fine. I am fine.

On the positive side, the slew of beautiful wee babies being sprung in Bishop is making me happy for all the new parents. Yes, we apparently are a breeding town, even if our population is smaller than it was in the 1960s.

Kate, Matty, Zach, Michelle and I tucked into a 1.5 lb barrel of Spudmaster ColossalChips from Bellflower, Missouri. The potato chips were a lovely pressie sent from my lovely friend Steve in St. Louis. Michelle made an exotic lamb stew, we played poker, finished the keg of Brutal, and tucked into the chips. It was a fine night. Picture of our heads buried in the Spudmaster tin will soon follow.

"No good deed goes unpunished"

That's what I have been told.

So, over the years, I've called 911 in the middle of the night when it appears that one of our neighbors is beating his partner. It follows a pattern - tt always has. There is foul swearing. There is the sound of various things and the partner being beaten. There are pleas for the beating to stop. Well, apparently, I have been the only person in the neighborhood to call. Maybe I'm the only one who doesn't fear deportation? So, all my 911 calls are going to be used in the prosecution of the man who was caught beating and imprisoning his partner last summer (The partner made *that* call).

I have been in a deep funk lately in part because on Christmas Eve, a private investigator working for the attorney representing the man wanted to question me about my calls to 911. His long ol' cheery message got me shaking. At heart, I think he wanted me to contradict myself. I say let my calls to 911 stand. I am mostly unnerved because now I know that my name and details are on public record. I have a child to protect from exposure to abusive and degrading behavior. On one hand, it's made me brave. On the other, I feel incredibly vulnerable.

Post script January 15th: Two night after Christmas, a sheriff's deputy tried to serve me a subpoena. We were gone, and Janet found him wandering around our yard with a big flashlight.

On the 30th, the man was banging around outside his trailer, and I called 911. New Year's Eve, poor Michelle got involved when she heard the partner scream for help. A detective even turned up to the Black Sheep to get her statement.

It's been very ugly and emotionally draining. It has taken a lot of energy and talking about it with friends not to succumb to a deep deep depression. Matt has been supportive enough, but just can't see why Michelle and I would be freaked out.

The other night, we decided to have a wee pity party, where a few of us with concerns in our lives would say goodbye to those concerns and send them up the woodstove flames. The beater was top of my list.

Maybe it worked?

I was told all along that despite all the evidence against the man, he demanded a trial. Well, last night, he pled to a deal and will still serve time. He is currently out on his own recognizance until sentencing , but there are definite no contact orders in place.

Michelle and I haven't been sleeping well and still aren't quite, but the ball is rolling and the psychic goo is lifting.

Wow, they must really want the business

We picked an Animas Ping pump for Wyatt. It has a remote control unit that administers insulin from 10 feet away. I called and left a message for our nurse at CHLA this morning to get the ball rolling and she called back within 15 minutes. An hour and a half later, a representative from Animas Ping called and took our insurance, medical, and order details.

It's been great working with competent folks who have all the right answers to my financial, medical, and logistical questions. I wish all medicine worked this well.

These suckers retail for about $7,500, so maybe that has something to do with it?

Proof of a higher being

The Owens Valley. The place where we live. The place we love so much.

Zabars' cinnamon rugelach. They achieve even higher perfection when we leave them on our woodstove for a few minutes.

Russian River's Sanctification: Who's afraid of the "big bad BRET?" We'll tell you who: winemakers! Because of our close proximity to several hundred wineries, we often get winemakers visiting our brewery. (After all, it takes a lot of great beer to make great wine!) Because we use 100% Brettanomyces yeast to ferment Sanctification, most winemakers will only smell the glass, and only a very few will venture to taste the beer. They think the Brettanomyces will attach to their clothing and end up in their winery. A simple solution was offered: keep a smudge pot burning at the door of our brewery so they can burn their clothes when exiting, but even that was not enough. After giving it more thought, we concluded that winemakers think Brettanomyces might scar their taste buds and possible even permeate their skin? Either way, Sanctification is one of the most unique beers you will ever taste! It is fermented with 100% Brettanomyces, rather than the traditional Saccharomyces. 6.25%ABV / 1.060 O.G / 27 BUs Available rotationally in the pub, and rotationally in 750mL cork finished bottles.

Exhausted

That's what everyone seems to be, even in this podunk town of ours.

We went down to LA Saturday and came back Tuesday and are worn little nubbins. Wyatt had a pretty productive diabetes check up Monday. We are going to start the ball rolling and get an insulin pump, which is basically a beeper sized external pancreas. We'll still need to do 2,000 or so glucose checks (involving finger sticks) a year for a few years, but we can skip the 1,500 shots and do about 300something instead. It will mean that we can work towards reducing Wyatt's A1c averages (a good thing).

The gastro check up was canceled because of illness, and I didn't handle the news well. I just kind of zoned out at the hospital and felt a bit overwhelmed. It means that I'll probably be taking the boy down on a Monday for a Tuesday appointment and drive back. 10+ hours of driving in little over 24 hours for a 15 minute appointment.

I was being selfish. Oh well. Luckily, we came home from LA to a wonderful hot lasagna (thanks Janet) and tamales (thanks girls!) and an emptied dishwasher (thanks Michelle).

And today's a better day already.

My list of gratitude goes here:

• We did not get sideswiped by that really fast white car on Hollywood Blvd.
• We did not get into any rain related accidents, even though we saw heaps of them.
  
• We beat the road closure home.
• We are not fighting a big or terminal disease, like so many families who use CHLA are.
• The Santa CHLA provided was vintage and lovely, not cheeseball.
• I have a lovely aunt and cousin who house and feed us when we are in LA.
• The espresso drinks at Intelligentsia on Sunset are getting better and better.
• Matt and I like Silver Lake/Los Feliz. Just as well CHLA is there.
  
• There was a Swiss Mont D'or Vacherin at the Silver Lake Cheeseshop.
• Wyatt is a typical almost four year old dude and lacks no self confidence.
  

My husband has embraced his inner redneck

Matty bought a dirtbike. He is 38 and this is only the second vehicle he's ever owned. He only rode around on a motorcycle for the first time a few weeks ago.

He is not a rash guy. He's an engineer. He's been wanting to get into the mountains more. He helps with and encourages all the shows I want to do. I reckoned that him buying a used dirtbike was easier than him having an affair or other midlife crisis. :)

The Schoberlews are not big spenders. As the exchequer of the house, I would have preferred that he bought it after property taxes were all said and done, but besides the mortgages on the house we live in ($840 a month) and the rentals ($2600, covered by the rent, as long as the units are rented) and $20,000 in a home equity loan that went towards the remodel we did when the boy was born, we have no debt.

So with that, Matty's going to embrace his inner redneck. Long may he ride.

Damned pink eye

Missing a cousin's birthday gathering and feeling like crap because of a cold that settled in my sinuses and then eyes. This is me all cleaned up too.

Getting to the last of my treasured Pino Meat Pies

Troy and Dulcie and Solomon will always have a special place in my heart. They nourished us with their pies!

the laundry list of medical curiosities

• It was a year ago today that Wyatt got diagnosed with diabetes...and what a year! 2,000+ blood glucose tests and some 1,500 shots later, we are starting to get our heads around the disease.
  

• I have a raging case of pink eye.

• I saw Dr. Perry, one of my two surgeons, yesterday and he gave me the go ahead to wait until late spring to have my angle plate removed from my left hip (I have some concerts to put on and some skiing to do) and until fall to have my second femoral rotational osteotomy. He was rather pleased with the x-rays of my hip.

• On Monday, we go see Wyatt's endocrinologist at Childrens Hospital LA.
  

• On Tuesday, we see Wyatt's GERD nurse practitioner at Childrens Hospital LA.

• Genevieve seems to be squeezing out her baby boy today.*
  

• It was also a year ago today that Karen nearly killed herself by allergic reaction to something...on AT's birthday!

*It appears that G labored for 30 hours before they gave her a C-section. Many thoughts for a speedy recovery.

Keeping up Miss Silvia and 1st Line Coffee

Our Rancilio Miss Silvia espresso machine is nearing its second birthday. Forget all you think about Italian engineering, ours is near god damned perfect. We both pull one to two shots a morning, every morning.

The only thing that has happened so far is that the chrome on the group head (where the portafilter - the cup that holds the coffee grounds- sits) shield has bubbled and flaked. The machine was out of warranty when I inquired with the retailer, 1st Line out of New York. They had never heard of the problem but resolved to get us a replacement piece at no cost. It did take months for this to happen, but it happened.

Turns out, the shield is nothing more than chromed plastic. Matt reckons that it is out of necessity, so that the operator doesn't burn him or herself.

Here's to more and more years with the mistress.

A ray of morning sunshine

Now, if he could shoot out a Fender Passport PA and world peace, that'd be super peachy.

Silly fantasy fluff goes here

I have started to play Lotto. For $1-2 a week, I can entertain myself with thoughts of what I'd do with all that ungodly amount of money. I don't fantasize about the good things I could do. I fantasize about my rock and roll promoter ambitions. So, this is how I would spend some of the money:

• Buy a Fender Passport Portable PA and generator so I could do wee concerts outside, guerrilla style.
• Jack the house up and excavate us a basement that could be used as a music venue/dancehall.
• Put on a mini festival featuring those NZers the Mutton Birds, SJD, and the Phoenix Foundation in Golden Bay's Mussel Inn.
• Buy a Mercedes 15 seater transit van that bands could use to tour the States.

Silly, I know.

It is a diversion from the headlines I have been reading re: Mumbai. The picture of distraught 2 year old Moshe Holtzberg, who lost his parents, was so very sad.

I got all teary eyed when we got our issue in the mail

It's a stunning cover.

A scare and goodbye Tristan

We went and saw Tristan (insert flamboyant, lovely, sweet and kind man here - oh, and if you are into that sort of thing- handsome as in a hippie dreadlocked way) off tonight.

Wyatt had a low because I didn't factor his being with his favorite woman in the whole wide world (5 year old Estreya) before giving him his dose of insulin. I dosed correctly for the food, but the adrenaline drove his blood sugars way, way down. Matt and I saw for the first time what a diabetic "low" looks like. It's not pretty. Imagine your three year old stumbling around a restaurant parking lot and drinking juice out of a juice box like it was mana/ambrosia/cold clear water dripping from the sky.

He is fine now. Thank God for juice boxes in cars.

Tristan and his girlfriend, Carrie, were lovely additions to town. I will miss them.

Two Wheels Good*

I love my new bike and have been getting out most days for at least half an hour. I am glad I went for the flat handle bars because I would have just spent my rides kneeing myself in my beer belly with regular roadbike handle bars.

I got 2 flats on Saturday and I was rather crabby about it all. Must avoid those goatheads (spiky spurs that grow alongside the road) and must stock up on spare tubes and patch kits.


*Maybe only SC will get this, but the alternative title to this could have been Steven McQueen. I was really sad to hear that PMcA is also going deaf.

Babbo is "my special little guy"

I know I am not the world's most natural mother. I cried when I found out I was pregnant, and they were not tears of joy (We figured it would take us forever to get preggars, not just one or two tries). I am often at a loss at how to play with a very active three year old. I don't deal with tantrums well.

Lately, though, I've realized that Wyatt has entered a golden age. He is cooperative. He is kind. He is helpful. He is "my special little guy."* He loves Altered Images. He loves the Mutton Birds. He loves books. He is learning his letters and their sounds at breakneck speed. He is getting a lovely sense of humor.

He is so engaged, and so am I.

*Yes, the Simpsons are my role models.

Sum it up Brothers and Sisters

Yes, what about those gay chickens?



in gratitude to Giant Robot's Martin Wong.

Osteotomy

I believe that it was a year ago today that I had my femur bone sawn in half, my lower leg rotated in by 20 degrees, and the whole thing pinned back together with a few screws and a right angle flat pin.

I am going for a quick bike ride before the weather rolls in. Three cheers.

Thanks for that, SC

Palinfreude, a fine, fine word indeed.

Ups and downs

Let us keep that wonderful new President Elect of ours safe and sound. He has a lot to do. I was impressed with McCain's concession speech. I wish that was McCain who ran.

Here in California, we like those chickens lots more than people it seems. Jerry Brown, whose current incarnation is our Attorney General, says the marriages will stand. The girls are headed down to the Independence Courthouse right now to get a copy of their license.

I was in a bit of a funk all morning until the girls came over to pick up their car, Charlotte (a fine night was had by many in Downtown Bishop last night). They were happy. They were still married. We were all proud that at least 2,846 of us in Inyo County - a full 40 percent- were not homophobes. We will revisit this issue again.

Songs of love

Shout out to AT's Marv and Grannie for coming.
Shout out to the Divine Comedy's "Father Ted" themesong.

I'll be the one with a box of tissues

(mostly ripped off from a post I left at the ever interesting and meditative kubla kong blog - because I had to talk about it)

On Monday, my husband and I will be witnesses to AT and Karen's marriage. It, falling on November 3 (the day before Californians decide on Prop 8), will be a wee hasty/shotgun/guerrilla affair - a secular, but heartfelt gathering off the back of a pickup truck in the high desert.

Neither bride will be wearing white, but the champagne will be cold, and Nick Cave, Lucinda Williams, and the Phoenix Foundation will be on the truck stereo.

After 12 years together, our friends decided that this was what they wanted. We are honored to support them. I am only sorry that their right to marry or not to marry is even an issue.

A meme

My first. The woman formerly known as BFH (insert rude words :)) but now known as Rock Candy Mountain with Whiskey Streams tagged me and now I am to talk about Seven Things About Me That You Probably Didn't Know. So, here goes:

• I was bulimic from 13ish to 15ish. The last puke had its own soundtrack as Blondie was on KROQ singing Accidents Never Happen (in a perfect world). As a result of my years of puking, I can puke on cue.
• Even though I have swum with large reef sharks, I am still very, very afraid of sharks.
  
• At 40, I am still afraid of the dark and of ghosts.
  
• I have only recently learned to eat sushi and sashimi.
  
• I was 28 before I chundered (Aussie slang for got sick from drinking - as in the Men at Work song Down Under, "where women glow and men chunder.").
• I sincerely wish to come to some understanding of/with my dad before we leave this mortal coil. It may or may not happen.
• I weep very easily.
  

We are a proud, proud lot

and I laugh because I'm sure that we are very, very annoying.

We live in a godforsaken place, hot as hell in the summer and colder than a witch's tit in winter, nearly four hours from a real airport, and over four hours from great cheap ethnic food.

If you have a heart attack, you'd better have good insurance, because you're going to get airlifted out of here. Same goes if you go into labor before your 37th week. That, or you just need to be a superboy or girl.

We pay a premium for every consumer good we buy, and our housing isn't any cheaper than a lot of urban areas.

Yet for all this, we are a proud, proud lot. We fiercely defend the honor of our harsh landscape and berate anybody who doesn't find it one of the most beautiful places on earth*.

We parade our grizzled, cancerous skin and gnarled feet like banners and badges.

We talk about how the friends we have here are like minded crazies, who turned their backs on comfortable lives, great incomes, consumerist culture, and endless commutes on freeways.

We mourn each other's losses and cheer each other's wins against The Man. We're always up for a random hike, bikeride, or ski. And for dessert, we're always up for a shot of single malt or bourbon, or cuppa tea.

* that one was for you, Diane. Remember when my sister in law tried to pick a fight with you about the Valley being the most beautiful place on earth? And I'm not saying that friends in the big city are consumerist robots. It's just that we have to poo poo the big city to justify our lives out here in the dirt.

Houston, we have recontact

with Blink Jorgensen, who runs the mighty A Low Hum and who is bringing Disasteradio through the States next spring.

Disasteradio inspires Awesome Feelings and more:


If the weather is good, I want to host a guerrilla potluck and gig on the high desert floor- leaving no trace and all that. With as many babies coming online around Thanksgiving-Christmas-New Year, it might mean that folks with infants can come and remember that they were young once.

In other recontact news, we saw Graham last night. He left for Alabama and Georgia 22 months ago. He is as beautiful and funny and exotic (he's Southern, afterall) as ever. The good news is that he's going to split his time between Cabbagetown near downtown Atlanta and Bishop. It appears that you can leave the Valley, but the Valley never really leaves you.

Luke Buda's first single off his new release, Vesuvius

For folks who were at the Bishop Phoenix Foundation show, you might recognize Luke Buda as the fella who sang Purple Rain at the end.

Despite the cheery gloss of the tune, there is a deeper melancholy (melancholic?) streak in most of Luke's lyrics which makes a certain fan in Atlanta worry about his Middle European psyche.


The track is called My Imminent Demise. :)

Luke, along with so many other great artists, is on Arch Hill.

The passage of certain nicknames

Babbo is outgrowing certain nicknames he's had for years. Namely, he's no longer Sucky Sucky Parasite and becoming less of a Midget and more of a Dude. It kind of makes me sad.

Some bastard hit the Sierra Phantom

The Sierra Phantom is my homey. He lives a block away from here, and he always has a smile for me when we pass each other on our bikes. Thankfully, he is a tough man and will be okay. Thanks for the coverage, Tom.

http://www.ksrw.sierrawave.net/site/content/view/1409/48/

Hit and Run Accident Sends the "Phantom" to Hospital
Written by Tom Woods
Monday, 20 October 2008

The well known Bishop fishing guide and glitter fly manufacturer known as “the Sierra Phantom,” was hit by car while riding his bicycle near Pleasant Valley reservoir on Friday night.

Highway Patrol Officers report that a vehicle sideswiped the Phantom, also known as J.P. Glover, causing the bicyclist to lose control. The driver left the scene, and despite a “extensive search,” officers were unable to find the suspect vehicle.

When we called Glover, he said that after he was sideswiped he went over the handle bars. He says he was on the side of the road for about a half an hour before a “couple of guys,” found him and called the ambulance.

Phantom had injuries to his ribs and lungs, a dislocated shoulder, the skin taken off his nose and knees. He was in pain when we spoke with him Monday, but his spirits were high. He says that his friends are looking out for him.

This was the third time he has been hit by a car in three years. The first time he was hit while riding a bike was in front of Giggle Springs. With little room for people on bicycles on Main Street and people not paying attention to bicycles, he says one person killed or hurt is too many.

Despite the injuries, Glover was confident of a fast recovery. He says that after a very long and serious series of cancer operations, the doctors told him that he wouldn’t be able to do anything for four months. A week later, he says that he walked from Bishop to South Lake and back to go fishing. With luck, the Phantom will soon be back out at one of his usual Main Street haunts, or on the river with his line in water.

the Itchy and Scratchy Show

I cleared tomato plants from the garden yesterday, 40someodd of them. Gave some perennials a quick haircut for winter and broke out in a quick itchy rash that went away when I finally had a shower.

It was a crap tomato year for everyone. It started very late and was not superproductive. I do believe that heirloom/open pollinated yields are not as high as superkillerhybrid yields, but I am not fond of most hybrids.

Lynne's Black Cherry was a tasty wonder, even if the plants fought early blight. They had the flavor of a Black Brandywine without the wait. Zapotec did not like my yard and the fruit leathered on the vine.

Green tomatillos have taken over a few of my beds. Be careful of where you compost leftover green salsa. T.T. has found good use for the tomatillos, thankfully, and we have some nice relish to go with our carnitas tacos today.

Dad and his lovely friend Natalie took Wyatt fishing Saturday. Natalie has two grandsons with diabetes and was the guardian of one for 8 years. She was great. She asked all the right questions and asked for the right diabetes gear. Hopefully my Dad learned a bit. Wyatt had a great time landing "RAINBOW TROUT!" and we had a great time going out to lunch with Matt's old high school best friend and going out to Auntie Genevieve/Auntie Shauna's Baby-Q potluck. It was a great break from active parenting.

In other news, I have been pitching to and wooing Kiwi bands, labels, and handlers. Bless good ol' Ben Howe at Arch Hill. He is an old Flying Nun artist (Superette) and hosts the marvelous Don McGlashan and Luke Buda (among others) on Arch Hill. Have also pitched to Loop Recordings, the Wellington International Ukulele Orchestra, and WIUO/Don McG's Manager. Thanks to Bibi and Lynne for being my daily sounding boards on these matters and to Steve for the encouragement from the muso's perspective and to Karen and Matty and Diane for the general "go for it-ness" of it all.

Lars and the Real Girl

I admit I was touched. It was a small, gentle film about how the right kind of family and community help a broken boy-man start to become an adult and possibly whole.

Maybe because I am a Nat King Cole fan, I especially loved this scene (Genevieve, don't look)


I also admit that I had only seen crap or schmaltzy Ryan Gosling films on long transatlantic flights or 14 hour bus rides across Argentina, but I always liked him.

I fear my Obama sign's days are numbered

I would love to be wrong.
My 2004 Kerry-Edwards lasted about a week before somebody ripped it down. When I called the local Dems to get a new sign, they said it was happening all over town.

I took Babbo to an Obama rally last Saturday. We sat on the City Park wall. I held a sign. Many many folks honked in support. Thankfully, nobody flipped us off or cussed us out. It did happen to a few others. I reckon that you'd have to be a pretty huge scumbag to flip off a three year old kid.

It was good to see my Subaru/Toyota/Honda driving, down jacket wearing, bluegrass listening, agnostic/atheist, but "spiritual" parenting brethren all gathered in one spot.

It has turned into such an ugly election.

Some women with Yes on 8 placards held down the corner at Main and Short. Their signs said something to the effect that 8 saved families. Huh? Whatever. A "yes" on 8 would eliminate same-sex couples' right to marry in California

In related news, A.T., who'd just gotten justice of the peace deputized, married a whole bunch of women wanting to get married before November 4th. Bless her. If folks really want to join the ball and chain fray, more power to them.

Yearnings

Because scheming is still free.....

• I would really like to work on another Kiwi-Owens Valley musical production. I'm hoping to hit some bands on their way to/from South by Southwest next March.
  

• I would really like to get back to NZ for the summer music festival season. This isn't going to happen unless Bibi or I win some contests we've entered. :)

• I would like to put off the second femoral osteotomy for another year. I'm just not psyched about being laid up for weeks and weeks on disability when economic times will only get tougher, when there are things to do, when there are bands to court. I wouldn't mind getting this angle plate in my old hip out, though. I could use another bottle opener. :)

• A good drink. The lurgy is almost over, and I will partake in a glass of champy (1996 Piper Heidsieck Blue Diamante Monopole blah blah) tonight. Thank you Zach for that awfully fancy bottle for simply turning 40.
  

• The new SJD, Luke Buda, Conrad Wedde, etc. releases.

In other news, I was sad to see that there was a fatal crash at Lukla Airstrip in Nepal. We used it in 1996, and it was a thrill ride to say the least. It's angled so that landing planes can use the uphill ride to stop and that departing planes can use the downhill ride to get the momentum to take off - right before the abyss. Edmund Hillary helped build the first strip, which was just pounded dirt. There was chang (a local liquor) for everyone and dancing all night. How else do you get folks to pound on dirt?



Matty just reminded me that the landing strip was still dirt in '96.

Gazpacho sin barbiturates

It is Fall/Autumn and we are making batches and batches of gazpacho in honor of the season. With our freezing mornings, the tomatoes are very nearly done.

I cannot think of "gathpacho" without thinking of the scene in Women of the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown where Carmen Maura, playing the leading lady, tells the detectives of all the trouble she's been up to and tells them that they are partaking in gazpacho laced with barbiturates.

Another Bush Administration Guantanamo case bites the dust

Judge orders release of Chinese Muslims into US

By HOPE YEN – 34 minutes ago

WASHINGTON (AP) — A federal judge ordered the Bush administration Tuesday to immediately free 17 Chinese Muslims from Guantanamo Bay into the United States, a dramatic ruling that could set the course for releasing dozens of other prisoners at the naval facility in Cuba.

The Bush administration announced plans to ask an appeals court to block the order, calling it a threat to national security and contrary to federal laws.

"Today's ruling presents serious national security and separation of powers concerns and raises unprecedented legal issues," Justice Department spokesman Brian Roehrkasse.

In a stern rebuke of the government, U.S. District Judge Ricardo M. Urbina said it would be wrong to continue holding the detainees since they are no longer considered enemy combatants. Known as Uighurs (pronounced WEE'-gurz), the men have been in custody for nearly seven years.

Over the objections of government lawyers, Urbina ordered their release in Washington D.C. by Friday. It was the first court-ordered release of Guantanamo detainees since the prison camp opened in 2002.

"Because the Constitution prohibits indefinite detentions without cause, the continued detention is unlawful," Urbina said, prompting cheers and applause from local Uighur residents and human rights activists who packed into the courtroom.

Urbina, who was appointed to the bench by President Clinton, also ordered a hearing next week to decide where the Uighurs should be permanently settled. Until then, members of the Uighur community in the Washington area agreed to sponsor and help care for them.

"I think the moment has arrived for the court to shine the light of constitutionality on the reasons for the detention," he said.

Urbina said once the detainees arrived in Washington, they would be free to move around unsupervised, drawing the surprise of government attorneys who suggested that immigration officials might act to take the men into custody upon their arrival.

That prompted an angry response from the judge, who said he would not "take kindly" to such a government move. "That would be inappropriate," Urbina said. "There is a pressing need to have these people, who have been incarcerated for seven years, to have those conditions changed."

Roehrkasse said the government's appeal of Urbina's ruling was prompted by security concerns over the weapons training the Uighurs received at camps in Afghanistan. "The government does not believe that it is appropriate to have these foreign nationals removed from government custody and released into the United States," Roehrkasse said.

At the White House, press secretary Dana Perino said the decision "is contrary to our laws, including federal immigration statutes passed by Congress."

Perino said if Urbina's ruling is not reversed, it "could be used as precedent for other detainees at Guantanamo Bay, including sworn enemies of the United States suspected of planning the attacks" of Sept. 11, 2001, to seek release into the U.S.

At issue is whether a federal judge has the authority to order the release of Guantanamo prisoners who were unlawfully detained by the U.S. and cannot be sent back to their homeland. The Uighurs, who are Turkic-speaking Muslims in western China, have been cleared for release from Guantanamo since 2004 and ordinarily would have been sent home.

Wang Baodong, spokesman for the Chinese Embassy in Washington, reiterated Beijing's argument that the Uighurs are terror suspects and should be returned to China. "We ask the U.S. side to take into serious consideration of the repeated requests of the Chinese side, and handle the issue in a prudent way so as not to further harm their bilateral cooperation on combating international terrorism," Wang said.

The Bush administration has refused to turn the Uighurs over to China because they might be tortured. The Bush administration says it has found no other country is willing to accept them. Albania accepted five Uighur detainees in 2006 but has since balked on taking others, partly for fear of diplomatic repercussions from China.

Uighurs are from Xinjiang — an isolated region that borders Afghanistan, Pakistan and six Central Asian nations — and say they have been repressed by the Chinese government. China has long said that insurgents are leading an Islamic separatist movement in Xinjiang. The Uighur detainees were captured in Pakistan and Afghanistan in 2001.

Urbina's decision has broader implications for the future of the Guantanamo prison, which the Bush administration has said it wants to shut down after "working with other countries to take people back under the right circumstances."

A federal judge is set later this month to hold hearings on other Guantanamo prisoners challenging their detention as so-called enemy combatants.

Roughly 20 percent of about 250 detainees who remain at the military prison fear torture or persecution if they return to their home countries, according to the New York-based Center for Constitutional Rights. Their concerns raise similar questions as to where they should go if other countries refuse to take them. The U.S. has long maintained they should stay at Guantanamo.

"How many times does the Bush administration need to be told that detainees are entitled to essential rights? All the remaining detainees in Guantanamo Bay must be either charged and tried or released immediately," said Larry Cox, executive director of Amnesty International USA.

The Bush administration has argued that a federal judge cannot order the release of a foreign-born detainee into the U.S., saying that would undercut immigration laws that dictate how foreigners are brought into the country.

Until a country accepts the Uighurs, they would stay in special Guantanamo housing that includes TVs, air-conditioning and recreational items such as soccer, table tennis and volleyball, government attorneys said.

O'Quinn also said federal judges should defer to the executive branch officials, who he said must consider delicate relations with China. "The court should be circumspect because of the potential for interference with foreign relations," O'Quinn said.

Sabin Willett, an attorney for the Uighurs, countered: "I've never heard anyone argue our relations with other nations are a basis for holding someone."

Rebia Kadeer, president of the World Uighur Congress, called the decision a victory for oppressed Uighurs in China.

"This is our destiny. This is our people's win. This concerns our freedom. China accuses us of being terrorists, but we are not," she said through a translator as other Uighurs in the courtroom cried for joy.

Emi MacLean, an attorney with the Center for Constitutional Rights, said she hoped the decision would encourage other foreign countries to take in Guantanamo detainees who have not been charged.

"Finally, we are beginning the process of taking responsibility for our mistakes and fixing them," she said. "Allowing these wrongfully detained men a fresh start would also provide the U.S. a fresh start — an opportunity to turn a page and finally take a position of leadership in closing Guantanamo."

CHLA is our friend

Had a bonzai run down to Children's Hospital LA. It was our second visit in two weeks, but this time it was for a diabetes check up.

I stuck Wyatt on the Ipod (Caillou, CBC programming) and while he was mostly quiet, he did lose the plot when I pulled the earphones off to make him pay attention or to be sociable. I swore I'd never be one of those electronic-devices-dependent parents, but Jesus God, this beats having him eat his Cheerios off the floor or lick the doctor's chair. And, it allows us to have a conversation with the doctor which is not punctuated by the stream of consciousness ramblings of a VERY LOUD THREE YEAR OLD BOY.

His A1C level is coming down. It went from 8.5 in May to 7.5 in October. Three cheers! The A1C is an indicator of how high his blood sugars have averaged over the last three months.

Dr. Jeandron is great. She is busy, but makes time to answer questions, to look us in the eye, to make us feel confident. She said we could switch to the insulin pump when we were ready because as far as she was concerned, we're ready. We'll probably save that for next year.

The nurses at CHLA are amazing. They fine tune and problem solve and call you right back when you need them to. They are no-nonsense but encouraging. They are your like your favorite aunts.

I got to squeeze in two of my Chinese food trifecta, Mandarin Deli and Sam Wo's BBQ. I got to give Auntie Tammy a hug on the day she got baptized (my funny and fierce Auntie Tammy - we will never see eye to eye on God or politics, but she one of the best people I know).

Even though the boy and I were both a bit delirious when we rolled into Bishop last night (We started yelling "Beeeeeeee-shopppppppp......"), it was a productive trip.

You got that right

Thanks to Holly from work for the graphic.

Thanks Lauren for making us have a look at this

When Atheists Attack

A noted provocateur rips Sarah Palin—and defends elitism.
Sam Harris
NEWSWEEK
From the magazine issue dated Sep 29, 2008

Let me confess that I was genuinely unnerved by Sarah Palin's performance at the Republican convention. Given her audience and the needs of the moment, I believe Governor Palin's speech was the most effective political communication I have ever witnessed. Here, finally, was a performer who—being maternal, wounded, righteous and sexy—could stride past the frontal cortex of every American and plant a three-inch heel directly on that limbic circuit that ceaselessly intones "God and country." If anyone could make Christian theocracy smell like apple pie, Sarah Palin could.

Then came Palin's first television interview with Charles Gibson. I was relieved to discover, as many were, that Palin's luster can be much diminished by the absence of a teleprompter. Still, the problem she poses to our political process is now much bigger than she is. Her fans seem inclined to forgive her any indiscretion short of cannibalism. However badly she may stumble during the remaining weeks of this campaign, her supporters will focus their outrage upon the journalist who caused her to break stride, upon the camera operator who happened to capture her fall, upon the television network that broadcast the good lady's misfortune—and, above all, upon the "liberal elites" with their highfalutin assumption that, in the 21st century, only a reasonably well-educated person should be given command of our nuclear arsenal.

The point to be lamented is not that Sarah Palin comes from outside Washington, or that she has glimpsed so little of the earth's surface (she didn't have a passport until last year), or that she's never met a foreign head of state. The point is that she comes to us, seeking the second most important job in the world, without any intellectual training relevant to the challenges and responsibilities that await her. There is nothing to suggest that she even sees a role for careful analysis or a deep understanding of world events when it comes to deciding the fate of a nation. In her interview with Gibson, Palin managed to turn a joke about seeing Russia from her window into a straight-faced claim that Alaska's geographical proximity to Russia gave her some essential foreign-policy experience. Palin may be a perfectly wonderful person, a loving mother and a great American success story—but she is a beauty queen/sports reporter who stumbled into small-town politics, and who is now on the verge of stumbling into, or upon, world history.

The problem, as far as our political process is concerned, is that half the electorate revels in Palin's lack of intellectual qualifications. When it comes to politics, there is a mad love of mediocrity in this country. "They think they're better than you!" is the refrain that (highly competent and cynical) Republican strategists have set loose among the crowd, and the crowd has grown drunk on it once again. "Sarah Palin is an ordinary person!" Yes, all too ordinary.

We have all now witnessed apparently sentient human beings, once provoked by a reporter's microphone, saying things like, "I'm voting for Sarah because she's a mom. She knows what it's like to be a mom." Such sentiments suggest an uncanny (and, one fears, especially American) detachment from the real problems of today. The next administration must immediately confront issues like nuclear proliferation, ongoing wars in Iraq and Afghanistan (and covert wars elsewhere), global climate change, a convulsing economy, Russian belligerence, the rise of China, emerging epidemics, Islamism on a hundred fronts, a defunct United Nations, the deterioration of American schools, failures of energy, infrastructure and Internet security … the list is long, and Sarah Palin does not seem competent even to rank these items in order of importance, much less address any one of them.

Palin's most conspicuous gaffe in her interview with Gibson has been widely discussed. The truth is, I didn't much care that she did not know the meaning of the phrase "Bush doctrine." And I am quite sure that her supporters didn't care, either. Most people view such an ambush as a journalistic gimmick. What I do care about are all the other things Palin is guaranteed not to know—or will be glossing only under the frenzied tutelage of John McCain's advisers. What doesn't she know about financial markets, Islam, the history of the Middle East, the cold war, modern weapons systems, medical research, environmental science or emerging technology? Her relative ignorance is guaranteed on these fronts and most others, not because she was put on the spot, or got nervous, or just happened to miss the newspaper on any given morning. Sarah Palin's ignorance is guaranteed because of how she has spent the past 44 years on earth.

I care even more about the many things Palin thinks she knows but doesn't: like her conviction that the Biblical God consciously directs world events. Needless to say, she shares this belief with mil-lions of Americans—but we shouldn't be eager to give these people our nuclear codes, either. There is no question that if President McCain chokes on a spare rib and Palin becomes the first woman president, she and her supporters will believe that God, in all his majesty and wisdom, has brought it to pass. Why would God give Sarah Palin a job she isn't ready for? He wouldn't. Everything happens for a reason. Palin seems perfectly willing to stake the welfare of our country—even the welfare of our species—as collateral in her own personal journey of faith. Of course, McCain has made the same unconscionable wager on his personal journey to the White House.

In speaking before her church about her son going to war in Iraq, Palin urged the congregation to pray "that our national leaders are sending them out on a task that is from God; that's what we have to make sure we are praying for, that there is a plan, and that plan is God's plan." When asked about these remarks in her interview with Gibson, Palin successfully dodged the issue of her religious beliefs by claiming that she had been merely echoing the words of Abraham Lincoln. The New York Times later dubbed her response "absurd." It was worse than absurd; it was a lie calculated to conceal the true character of her religious infatuations. Every detail that has emerged about Palin's life in Alaska suggests that she is as devout and literal-minded in her Christian dogmatism as any man or woman in the land. Given her long affiliation with the Assemblies of God church, Palin very likely believes that Biblical prophecy is an infallible guide to future events and that we are living in the "end times." Which is to say she very likely thinks that human history will soon unravel in a foreordained cataclysm of war and bad weather. Undoubtedly Palin believes that this will be a good thing—as all true Christians will be lifted bodily into the sky to make merry with Jesus, while all nonbelievers, Jews, Methodists and other rabble will be punished for eternity in a lake of fire. Like many Pentecostals, Palin may even imagine that she and her fellow parishioners enjoy the power of prophecy themselves. Otherwise, what could she have meant when declaring to her congregation that "God's going to tell you what is going on, and what is going to go on, and you guys are going to have that within you"?

You can learn something about a person by the company she keeps. In the churches where Palin has worshiped for decades, parishioners enjoy "baptism in the Holy Spirit," "miraculous healings" and "the gift of tongues." Invariably, they offer astonishingly irrational accounts of this behavior and of its significance for the entire cosmos. Palin's spiritual colleagues describe themselves as part of "the final generation," engaged in "spiritual warfare" to purge the earth of "demonic strongholds." Palin has spent her entire adult life immersed in this apocalyptic hysteria. Ask yourself: Is it a good idea to place the most powerful military on earth at her disposal? Do we actually want our leaders thinking about the fulfillment of Biblical prophecy when it comes time to say to the Iranians, or to the North Koreans, or to the Pakistanis, or to the Russians or to the Chinese: "All options remain on the table"?

It is easy to see what many people, women especially, admire about Sarah Palin. Here is a mother of five who can see the bright side of having a child with Down syndrome and still find the time and energy to govern the state of Alaska. But we cannot ignore the fact that Palin's impressive family further testifies to her dogmatic religious beliefs. Many writers have noted the many shades of conservative hypocrisy on view here: when Jamie Lynn Spears gets pregnant, it is considered a symptom of liberal decadence and the breakdown of family values; in the case of one of Palin's daughters, however, teen pregnancy gets reinterpreted as a sign of immaculate, small-town fecundity. And just imagine if, instead of the Palins, the Obama family had a pregnant, underage daughter on display at their convention, flanked by her black boyfriend who "intends" to marry her. Who among conservatives would have resisted the temptation to speak of "the dysfunction in the black community"?

Teen pregnancy is a misfortune, plain and simple. At best, it represents bad luck (both for the mother and for the child); at worst, as in the Palins' case, it is a symptom of religious dogmatism. Governor Palin opposes sex education in schools on religious grounds. She has also fought vigorously for a "parental consent law" in the state of Alaska, seeking full parental dominion over the reproductive decisions of minors. We know, therefore, that Palin believes that she should be the one to decide whether her daughter carries her baby to term. Based on her stated position, we know that she would deny her daughter an abortion even if she had been raped. One can be forgiven for doubting whether Bristol Palin had all the advantages of 21st-century family planning—or, indeed, of the 21st century.

We have endured eight years of an administration that seemed touched by religious ideology. Bush's claim to Bob Woodward that he consulted a "higher Father" before going to war in Iraq got many of us sitting upright, before our attention wandered again to less ethereal signs of his incompetence. For all my concern about Bush's religious beliefs, and about his merely average grasp of terrestrial reality, I have never once thought that he was an over-the-brink, Rapture-ready extremist. Palin seems as though she might be the real McCoy. With the McCain team leading her around like a pet pony between now and Election Day, she can be expected to conceal her religious extremism until it is too late to do anything about it. Her supporters know that while she cannot afford to "talk the talk" between now and Nov. 4, if elected, she can be trusted to "walk the walk" until the Day of Judgment.

What is so unnerving about the candidacy of Sarah Palin is the degree to which she represents—and her supporters celebrate—the joyful marriage of confidence and ignorance. Watching her deny to Gibson that she had ever harbored the slightest doubt about her readiness to take command of the world's only superpower, one got the feeling that Palin would gladly assume any responsibility on earth:

"Governor Palin, are you ready at this moment to perform surgery on this child's brain?"

"Of course, Charlie. I have several boys of my own, and I'm an avid hunter."

"But governor, this is neurosurgery, and you have no training as a surgeon of any kind."

"That's just the point, Charlie. The American people want change in how we make medical decisions in this country. And when faced with a challenge, you cannot blink."

The prospects of a Palin administration are far more frightening, in fact, than those of a Palin Institute for Pediatric Neurosurgery. Ask yourself: how has "elitism" become a bad word in American politics? There is simply no other walk of life in which extraordinary talent and rigorous training are denigrated. We want elite pilots to fly our planes, elite troops to undertake our most critical missions, elite athletes to represent us in competition and elite scientists to devote the most productive years of their lives to curing our diseases. And yet, when it comes time to vest people with even greater responsibilities, we consider it a virtue to shun any and all standards of excellence. When it comes to choosing the people whose thoughts and actions will decide the fates of millions, then we suddenly want someone just like us, someone fit to have a beer with, someone down-to-earth—in fact, almost anyone, provided that he or she doesn't seem too intelligent or well educated.

I believe that with the nomination of Sarah Palin for the vice presidency, the silliness of our politics has finally put our nation at risk. The world is growing more complex—and dangerous—with each passing hour, and our position within it growing more precarious. Should she become president, Palin seems capable of enacting policies so detached from the common interests of humanity, and from empirical reality, as to unite the entire world against us. When asked why she is qualified to shoulder more responsibility than any person has held in human history, Palin cites her refusal to hesitate. "You can't blink," she told Gibson repeatedly, as though this were a primordial truth of wise governance. Let us hope that a President Palin would blink, again and again, while more thoughtful people decide the fate of civilization.

Harris is a founder of The Reason Project and author of The New York Times best sellers “The End of Faith” and “Letter to a Christian Nation.” His Web site is samharris.org.

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