Posts Tagged ‘Cutter’
Head ‘em up, Move ‘em out
Tomorrow is the “launch” day for the field project I’ve been planning since the beginning of this school term. I’m only marginally enthused about it at this point because I would really enjoy having a day to sleep in sometime soon. Since I know that’s not going to happen this weekend (and most likely not until the end of the term), I’m a bit grumpy about the whole affair. I’ve not had a lot of fun this term anyhow. I don’t really understand why…I’m unfocused, unenthused, irritated, steeped in procrastination the likes of which I’ve never experienced before, plus I’m in a constant state of lethargy. It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever encountered and I’m hoping it goes away shortly, or else my GPA is in grave danger of slipping past a point of repair. Not an amusing thought by any stretch of the imagination.
Still, at least there will be photos, most likely of the blindingly hilarious variety. I am foregoing my field vest and have instead opted for just a canvas military supply bag to hold all my shit. But the sight of me in my boonie hat will still bring the lolz. I promise.
Up Next on the Agenda
Monday marks the arrival of the long-awaited Fleetwood Mac concert. I’m definitely stoked, as I’ve been a fan since I was a wee lass. I’ve always wanted to play guitar like Lindsay Buckingham, write songs like Stevie Nicks, and sing like Christine McVie. I’m sure there are pictures in a photo album somewhere of me rocking out on my old Yamaha keyboard to “You Make Loving Fun” while trying to do my best husky British singer impression. I tell you, it’s a good thing I’m not famous. There’s a lot of photographic evidence of my past that’s far more embarrassing than getting caught shaving your own head in a psychotic freakout episode. Britney couldn’t even begin to understand the true humiliation of having your mother show your friends photos of a naked 3-year-old you trying to fit a running garden hose up your own butt. Honestly. I think I win that battle.
I digress.
Fleetwood Mac! Cutter and I have promised to not talk about it too much afterwards because Kevin and Morgan won’t be seeing them for another two weeks still. We don’t want to spoil anything or get them antsy. Here’s to hoping both of our shows kick so much ass that we can barely stay conscious afterwards.
Well THAT was interesting…
Because Murphy’s Law was pretty much invented in my family’s honor…
There were many lovely things about this past weekend. There were also several really funky/bizarre/crappy things. I’ll start with those because I like to end up an upper. Keeps the kids happy.
Friday: We leave an hour later than anticipated, end up spending more time at the grocery store in Lakeport than we thought we would, and were forced to fly over the backroads to the state park, where we proceeded to set up our campsite in virtual darkness. The one saving grace was the speed at which mom was able to locate, assemble, and light the lantern, followed by the campfire. Though at that point I’d already gotten most of the tent upright after feeling around with my feet for a flat, burrow-less spot upon which to throw the ground tarp. I barked my shins on various inanimate (and therefore, immobile) objects at least a dozen times, and mom outright ran into the fucking truck. Honestly, we were like a really bad Jim Carrey movie.
Saturday: The day started with a really shitty text message from what I now consider to be an equally shitty friend. Because I haven’t been made to feel like a loser enough from this person in all the years I’ve known them, they decided that the best way to get out of associating with me this time around was to just drop me a text message, punctuated with the phrase “Nothing personal. Sorry.” though since I’m the only one of our circle of friends that this happened to, I fail to see how it’s not personal. Thx for the complete facefuck, dude. You’re a class act as always. Remind me again why I’ve spent so much time trying to maintain our friendship?
Saturday afternoon brought a broken-down truck on the way to go wine tasting. By the time we got a tow truck to show up and we collectively figured out what the problem was (get this: the fuel pump cutoff switch is on the passenger side of the truck, about three inches above the floor. Guess who hit it with their foot while trying to readjust their seat? THANKS, FORD, FOR YOUR QUALITY VEHICLE DESIGNS.), the wineries were all closed and Dad, Cutter, and Dam had arrived at the campsite and were waiting for us to return with the other half of the groceries for dinner.
Mild irritation: being crammed into a 4-man tent with four other adults. Seems nobody thought to bring an extra tent when Dam was invited to join us at the very last minute. And because nobody wanted to be the one to volunteer to sleep in the back of the truck, we all suffered the sardine effect of five grown adults and all their gear overlapping all over the floor of the tent. I slept in a ball in the corner because every time I woke up during the night (and believe you me, I woke up so many times that I’m not sure if what I did actually qualifies as sleep) I found myself dangerously close to rolling over onto Dam, and not only would that have been slightly inappropriate and awkward, it also would have been fatal for his slim frame. I am the human equivalent of a steamroller. Nuff said.
There were plenty of upsides to the weekend of course. Gorgeous weather following Friday’s sudden rainstorms that left everything smelling nice and fresh and the night freezing as fuck. This brought the birds out en force on Saturday so that during the pontoon tour of the rookeries, we were able to spot far more birds than we would normally see. This is probably the most heron we’ve seen during the festival ever. We also actually spotted a Clark’s Grebe amongst the scant few Western Grebe still hanging out at the lake (they’ve relocated temporarily due to a shortage of their primary food source), plus a green heron, several gorgeous osprey, and more yellowheaded blackbirds than I’ve ever seen on the lake. There were other species around but my brain is addled at the moment and I’m drawing blanks.
The most awesome part of the weekend was the opportunity I had to network and talk shop with many agency representatives that ran booths at the festival. I chatted with two guys from the US Forest Service about prescribed burns and current plans for the upcoming fire season. They gave me their business cards and told me to call them if I was looking for any internship/volunteer opportunities, and they certainly encouraged this as they said it would provide me with a more direct route for hiring on with the Forest Service. Nice. I also talked habitat restoration and restoration ecology in general with a guy from the BLM who went to Oregon State and Chico State. We traded comments on riparian health within the local watershed, and he directed me to the next booth over to talk with the Army Corps reps about the dam along the nearby creek. I had a wonderful discussion with them and two reps from PG&E regarding anadramous salmonid recovery, and they pointed me towards the BLM reps. At which point I’d already collected so many business cards, booklets, information, and invitations for tours and talks, my eyes were going crossed. The BLM folks were awesome, and we lamented over how poorly California actually approaches their natural resource management compared to Washington and Oregon (in California, the BLM is forced to fend for itself, subsisting on grants; in Oregon and Washington, the state budgets for the BLM). I was told I needed to finish my education and bring that Oregon sensibility to California and help out. I laughed my ass off at that. California is fucked. There’s not enough sensibility in this entire country to fix that.
The last two ladies I talked to were incredible. I had started out talking to this woman in a booth representing a local watershed conservancy group. I mentioned to her that I was working on a watershed evaluation within the same river system her group was also representing, and she whipped out her business card and told me to give her a call because they were always working with students from UC Davis on their own projects of a similar nature. Turns out she’s the executive director of this group that is actually an agency that has restored and managed the restoration of this huge segment of the river and the land is actually being used for various research projects by college students as well as for educational tours with local schools and youth groups. Holy shit. I tried not to look stunned. I then struck up a conversation with a woman who is a scientist assigned to monitor the health of Clear Lake, and together we went on a rant about invasive species and how careless people are. (the lake has been suffering from a hydrilla infestation for the last couple of decades, and now there’s the constant threat of invasive mussels) She had a great Australian accent. It made my day.
Needless to say, it was a good day. I rarely get to talk shop with anyone. Nobody gives two shits about these sorts of things around here, and more often than not I just feel like I’m talking to the walls if I try to have a conversation about the environment or any facet of it with anyone. It’s nice to have normal conversation with people who actually know something. Especially when it gives me a better sense of what to expect when I finally go out into the world.
I’ll try to put up some of my bird pictures sometime this week. I have some osprey photos that make me giddy. No. I have no life.