Sandias in the Mist
Fujifilm X-E1, 27mm ƒ/2.8 pancake lens
I took a detour on my way to work this morning to get a few shots of the Sandias in the mist from a vacant lot at the north end of San Mateo, west of I-25. I included three photos, and added info on the cameras and lenses because the color is quite different between the two cameras. The Fujifilm X-E1, which has an APS-C sensor, gives a cooler color with the white balance set on AWB. The Canon 1Ds Mark II, with a full-frame sensor, gives a warmer color set on AWB. Note: AWB is "average white balance", not "average white boys", in the case of the cameras estimating the temperature of the light.
Panorama with a Canon EOS-1Ds Mark II, 70-200mm ƒ/4 lens @ 70mm
Canon EOS-1Ds Mark II, 70-200mm ƒ/4 lens @ 92mm
Endorsed by the Birds
This sign is posted on the east side of the bridge we cross the get to the bosque.
Horseless Carriage
Carriage chained up on the porch of the house next door to where we stayed in Tucson.
Stairway To...
The science building on the AU campus has an arch at the front with what appears to be a history of science.
LOL Cats
Spunk: "Pull-eeze let me in so I can save you from those weirdos!"
Loki: "What 'weirdos' are you talking about? Like chill out dude! Talk to the paw!"
Silver: "There's weirdos around here? Really? Who's sayin'?"
Another One Bites the Dust
I received another thin envelope from a medical group in the mail this afternoon. This is the fifth letter I've received this year from a Pres group, Cancer Center, and my family doctor. I knew immediately what it was about, the introductions are always the same: "To my patients at..." followed by the medical group name or practice. Then they drop the bombshell in the next paragraph: "I am writing this letter to inform you that I am leaving my practice at..." again followed by the medical group name or practice. Every time I read "I'm writing this letter..." it reminds me of the introductions in my grandfather's letters from "Somewhere in France" in 1918 where he began each letter "Dear Mother, I am going to write you..."
The letters from the doctors usually go on to tell you what other doctor might see you in place of the doctor who is leaving; however, in some cases they leave you hanging. It's like a nice way of saying, without saying anything, that you're SOL! — there seems to be a smirky "LOL!" between the lines, as well.
In the case of my family doctor, who retired earlier this year, after the standard introduction and the part about retiring, he suggested we go by his office an pick up your charts, and ended with a good luck finding another doctor. Good luck is right — physicians who are family practitioners don't seem to exist anymore.
The letter from the primary care doc I had at the Canter Center last July basically said "¡Hasta la vista! Baby. I won't be back!" With no verbiage about a replacement. I learned from my oncologist that the primary care doc moved to Montana. To my knowledge the Cancer Center still has not replaced him.
As another doc bites the dust in New Mexico, I'm feeling quite isolated from getting basic, primary care, and no one to turn to, outside of my oncologist, to ask for specialized care.
Bite 'Em ON The Old Shin Bone
Anyone who has followed this blog for any time has seen various photos of the beavers and beaver dams in the clearwater ditch that runs along the west side of the Rio Grande through Corrales. I have also published various posts about the Conservancy waging war against the beavers and tearing out the beaver’s dams. So the beavers build their dams and the conservancy tear them out out in a never ending cycle that gets referred to as "That Dam War."
The beavers had recently built five or six fine dams along a mile long section of the clearwater ditch from the access bridge we use to cross the ditch. The Conservancy tore the dams out, and the disgusted beavers formed a group they named “The Angry Beavers” and enlisted help from me and The Average White Boys to produce a music video about the government guys always blowing up their homes. When I asked them what they most wanted to do to the Conservancy men, the Angry Beavers were unanimous about wanting to “bite them on the old shin bone.”
So we all collaborated using Beaver UX/UI, came up with lyrics and a concept for the parody. I searched through our never ending "shed of infinite doom” and found a couple of old sticks of dynamite, a plunger, and some old gas welding glasses for props. The AWBs took turns letting the beavers bite them on their shinbones for the shinbone shots. They were really good sports about getting all wet and cold in the icy 38º F clear ditch water. The AWBs also took turns being the “government guys”. Working together, we produced a new parody music video called “Bite ‘Em On The Old Shin Bone”. The lyrics are posted below the video so you can follow along.
Bite ‘Em On The Old Shin Bone
The Angry Beavers and The Average White Boys
Music: Shel Silverstein
Lyrics: Timothy Price
Ha ha ha, I don't believe it
Hah! Don't touch it
Hey you going to tell them who we are?
Well We’re bucktoothed builders
We got golden slappers
We love to lay sticks in a row… (Sounds like beavers)
We build real beauty, dams to tell the truth
We cut ten thousand willows you know… (Yah! Right!)
Fish have all kinds of gills, and it’s kind of surreal
Then there’s the man we’ve never known
He’s shrill, yelling, bitchin’, when he blows up our kitchen
Wanna bite him on the old shinbone
(Old Shinbone) Wanna bite him right through his cover
(Bone…) Gonna bite five chomps for my mother
(Bone…) Wanna chew off his smiling face
Bite him on the old shinbone (That’s a very good idea you know)
We watch two legged ladies on the ditch bank daily
They walkin in tight jeans
We got a poor old gray haired biologist
Who thinks we’re really keen
Now the conservancy men wanna blowup our homes
And our homes get really blown
Like the blow when they bitchin and blowin up our kitchens
Wanna bite them on the old shinbones
(Old Shinbone) Wanna bite him right through his cover
(Bone…) Gonna bite five chomps for my mother
(Bone…) Wanna chew off his smiling face
Bite him on the old shinbone
[Talking]
Hey, I know how
Beaver roll...
[Instrumental]
Oh that's really beautiful man!
We got a lot of little teeny blue scaled guppies
Don’t do anything all day
And there’s a genuine government guru
Who says dynamite's a better way
Build nice dams but the government guy
Doesn’t think we need a home
We keep building stronger, but their dynamite gets longer
And we bite em on old shinbones
(Old Shinbone) Wanna bite him right through his cover
(Bone…) Gonna bite five chomps for my mother
(Bone…) Wanna chew off his smiling face
Bite him on the old shinbone
Bite him on the old shinbone
Wanna bite him right through his cover
(Bone…) Gonna bite five chomps for my mother
(Bone…) Wanna chew off his smiling face
Bite him on the old shinbone
Lark VIII, The Desert Ark
When you arrive at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum, you are greeted by The Desert Ark, a 1960 Studebaker Lark VIII Wagon. A museum staff member happened to drive up in a cart while we were admiring the car. As it turned out, he was to person who restored it for the museum. He gave us a brief, but informative history of the museum and the car. The sign in the back of the wagon reads:
For more than 30 years, a man named Hal Gras drove numerous station wagons known as “The Desert Art” to schools, events, etc. He would carry a variety of animals, including badgers, porcupines, snakes, ringtail cats, among others, and sometimes even a mountain lion, George L., bringing a little piece of the desert to all.
