The Rice University mascot is the owl and the campus is expansive, grassy, and irresistible to neighborhood dog owners, as witness this sign:
While revising my story for the upcoming anthology Pets in Space, I’m thinking about pets of all kinds.
Pets are everywhere in this country and probably other Western countries too. (From what I’ve read, even in China, where people have long been more likely to eat dogs than befriend them, a culture of dog-owning is showing up in the cities; and some folks in Muslim countries are going against the cultural grain to have pet dogs too.)
Dogs seem to have the most elaborate culture of any. Their care, feeding and other aspects of ownership occupy rather a lot of bandwidth in our society. Cats are probably close behind and horses – a lot fewer of them, but much more infrastructure per animal – a close third and then maybe birds. But there are accommodations for pet rodents, reptiles, fish, crustaceans, arachnids, and insects. (Yes, insects. A young friend of mine had a pet Madagascar Hissing Cockroach – a rather magnificent creature. When I was a kid I had a pet praying mantis named Monty in a terrarium. I fed Monty cabbage butterflies from the back yard: I’d offer Monty dinner by holding the butterfly by the wings. Monty would sway back and forth and then snatch the butterfly with his forelegs. I don’t remember sticking around to watch Monty devour one. The ones who got away fluttered and perched around the terrarium and Monty got to hunt them.
The U.S. post office has just issued Forever stamps celebrating pets, with quite nice renditions of creatures ranging from horses to hermit crabs.
Soaring in mountain wave is magic. A sailplane flies forward while ascending rapidly, smoothly, silently and possibly to very high altitudes. (For the technically inclined more info is here.)
I wrote mountain wave into my novel Downfall Tide without having experienced it until very recently. That was at SoaringNV in Minden, Nevada. Because of wave and strong soaring conditions generally Minden is one of the premier soaring sites in the world. Still I was lucky to be there when there was wave.
21,200′ high in a Duo Discus sailplane – with instructor Elizabeth Tattersall.
Lake Tahoe off the left wing
The atmospheric conditions that produce wave often produce lenticular clouds, which are peculiarly lens- or pancake-shaped:
Lennies in Carson City the night before.
Beautiful place, Sugar House Park in Salt Lake City: a really nice urban park with magnificent views. The early Mormons tried to raise and process sugar beets here, which didn’t work too well, and the sugar factory became a prison. It had to have had as much sorrow and anger as any other prison, and on at least one occasion it was the site of a gross miscarriage of justice – when Joe Hill was executed for murder as likely retaliation for his labor organizing activities. Now the former prison ground has trees and ducklings and kids on bikes and couples picnicking on the grass. A stream runs through it that’s cold on the hottest days, because it’s snowmelt. Places can be redeemed.
There’s one sure-fire way to get Episcopalians to pipe down and listen up. I’ve seen it work at potlucks and now at an organ concert Friday night. The concert was by Dr. Philip Kloeckner, who teaches keyboard at Rice University’s Shepherd School of Music and directs the choir at my church, which is why the Shepherd School organ hall filled up with Episcopalians happily and loudly nattering. When it came time to begin, the emcee said, ‘THE LORD BE WITH YOU!” The audience instantly chorused “AND ALSO WITH YOU!” and awaited the emcee’s next words in perfect silence!
And what a concert it was. The Shepherd School organ is a magnificent instrument with 5,000 pipes. It can sound like any of several eras of historical organ. Philip gave us at least three distinctly different organ sounds in music by various composers. His last piece was an improvisation on two Christmas carols given to him on the spot. After thinking about it for all of half a minute, he wove “Joy to the World” and “Angels We Have Heard on High” into an incredible fabric that seemed to involve pulling out every stop on the organ and sounding every pipe from the tiniest tinkling one to the massive pipe that sends a vibration through your chest if you’re in the audience.
Per today’s New York Times, you can rent live potted Christmas trees in Southern California. It isn’t cheap, but it gets you a quite nice tree that does not proceed to die in your living room. And: “Families can even order the same tree year after year to see how it has grown. ” Somehow this seems as touching as it is silly.
And so is this: my craftsy colleague Sarah not long ago informed me that earlier this year a call went out to the knitting community for wool sweaters for lots of little penguins rescued after a bad oil spill Down Under. There was a knitting pattern online. Knitters the world over responded with a flood of tiny sweaters. With some of these the knitters got really creative – bright colors, colored borders, even tuxedo patterned knit jobs. The results, as reported in Fashionista (!) online, were adorable. And it worked. The wool sweaters kept the birds warm until their oil-soaked, cleaned-up feathers regained their natural oils, by which time the sweaters shredded off.
Speaking of adorable, one of the Circulation student assistants here at Fondren Library, unbeknownst to us, created a YouTube video of herself and several confederates studying in the Library in Finals to a soundtrack adapted from a pop song and with full-bore choreography. That video has been a big hit around here.
Meanwhile everything else that’s going on in the world is going on.
Penguins strike us as lovably odd species, but it’s Homo Sapiens that’s genuinely peculiar – in ways that are good and bad and indifferent and profound and never more so than at this season.
Growing up I thought Columbus had to be the biggest small (-minded) city in the state of Georgia. Things have changed! Besides renewing the historic downtown and many other achievements, Columbus is working with Phenix City Alabama to create the world’s longest urban whitewater course. They’re taking out two old mill dams and giving the Chattahoochee River back its natural undammed flow, plus sculpting the rapids so as to attract paddlers ranging from the church-excursion level up to world class. Way to go!
My car developed small round blurs in the middle of the front windshield – visible and annoying only when the sun angle was low. After being puzzled for a while I remembered that I’d driven up to Dallas and met my friend Kristin at DFW and after we navigated through Dallas and returned to Houston, she borrowed my car to go around town; and she has a portable GPS. And it has a little suction cup to attach its antenna to the windshield. Aha. This was like when you park your car and come back to see by the paw prints that a cat has strolled up the windshield, except these were in the inside: GPS paw prints.
They say it’s an ill wind that blows no good. Cold fronts like last week, bone dry with strong north winds blowing across drought-parched land, can be very ill indeed, sending the risk of wildfire sky high. Strong north wind was what stoked the September wildfire that threatened the Texas Renaissance Festival grounds, the Episcopal church camp – Camp Allen – and my soaring club, while burning houses, fields and trees in three counties.
Wind like that is no fun to fly in, either. The drought itself, though – soaring pilots around Houston found a bright side there. None of us would WISH such a drought on ourselves or anyone else, but it created some of the best soaring conditions in memory. One contest pilot made a set of outstanding triangular flights from our field to two turnpoints and back. His longest triangle was 875 kilometers. That’s 544 miles in an aircraft without an engine across the Texas coastal plain. Another pilot achieved a straight-out flight to land just this side of Amarillo. And a third pilot reached an altitude of 9,000′, while several got so high they could see the Gulf of Mexico 100 miles away. So yesterday the flavor of the “clubhouse flying” was an unusual mixture of delight in great flights and dismay about scary wildfires, shrinking lakes, and dying trees. Meanwhile takeoffs (as well as one flight-review downwind landing with hard braking action) unfolded in clouds of dust. Bright side and bad side both – it’s nowhere near over.
We love a holiday for which we can decorate our houses and doors, ourselves and our pets, and our workplaces. And ourselves at the workplace. Today at the Library the Reference Desk was being staffed by a librarian in a witch’s hat – a really good one with a curved brim and a floppy tip.
Another great thing about Halloween is the opportunity for wordplay. Every store and online merchant that can work a pun into its ads has done so. (Terror-ific Deal! Unboo-lievable Savings!) Today’s Houston Chronicle contrived five (5) Halloween-themed headlines just on Page One: “Perry not spooked by slumping poll numbers,” “Texans scare up another victory,” “Mosquitoes engineered to kill their offspring,” “Hospitality begins at home. . . for the living,” about a local haunting, and “They go bite in the night” – a teaser for an article in the entertainment section about vampire bats.
My favorite Halloween thing is the spiders. There are hosts of black-furred, purple-kneed, king-sized arachnids on the roofs and front doors of houses. One was clinging to the front of the hostess’s podium at Gaido’s Seafood Restaurant in Galveston this week; the hostess cheerfully introduced the giant black tarantula as Walter and told us he’s harmless. On campus this morning I stopped at a street to let a cyclist whizz by and admire her deely-bobbers. Bobbing above her head were four curled-up black spiders, each on a webby puff of white feathers. In real life spiders unnerve me. That may be why fake ones rather charm me. Especially when they have purple knees.