Tarpon as pets

I had the wonderful pleasure of going fishing the last time I was in Belize. We went out on a boat with one of the awesome local fishing guides, trolled around in a 19-20' skiff, and caught more fish than we knew what to do with. Seriously - it took two nights of feeding our entire hotel to finish off our catch. We/I caught 3 barracuda (barrows), 25 snapper and other fish all in the space of a few hours. - and that was not a "good" day.
But the real treat came when we returned with our catch. Our guide brought us in to his dock around the west/back side of the island. He said we would meet his "pets" - which were tarpon. For those who don't know, tarpon are a highly prized game fish.
As we were pulling closer to shore, our guide reached into the bait tank, grabbed some sardines, and tossed them overboard. Immediately three big tarpon broke the surface and devoured the bait. We looked over the side of the boat and could see tarpon matching our speed as we neared the cove. By the time we reached the dock, there were tarpon everywhere. The water was roiling with big, silver fish. We had fun throwing the remainder of our bait fish to the awaiting throng of tarpon. I sent for Cheech and the kids, so that they could witness this. The kids had fun throwing sardines and fish guts into the water and watching the hungry silver monsters chow down. My son especially had fun holding the bait close to the water and watching big tarpon come and snatch it. It was surreal. Apparently our guide has been coaxing the big fish into his cove for several years. I stood and cleaned fish, while I watched my kids do something that few people will ever get to do. If anyone ever wants to experience this, just let me know - I will happily give you our guide's name and number. You just ave to promise that you won't try to poach one of his beautiful "pets".

New dog - old tricks

ME - "What do you want for Christmas?"
SCOOBIE - "A puppy"
ME - "Anything else?
SCOOBIE - "No, just a puppy. But, one I can hold and pet. A small one"
ME - "Well, I don't think we're getting a puppy this year. Is there anything else you could want."
SCOOBIE - "No, just a puppy"

Crap!

So, Cheech searched all the dog rescue sites in our area. She found a cute, little, white, poodly thing named "Rasta", listed as 18 months old, 12 lbs., house trained, Maltese Poodle mix, good with kids, etc.. Besides the cute web picture, the name "Rasta" is what got our attention (we had a dog named "Irie" who passed on last summer). So we trekked all the way down to San Antonio to pick him up.
We renamed him "Ziggy" so as not to offend our Rasta friends.
He was beautifully behaved and sat in our laps the whole way home.

At home we were playing along and - oops - poop on the floor. Hmm.
And then my son dropped a fork on the floor. I almost lost a knuckle when I tried to get it back from Ziggy. Not good. It looked as if Ziggy might go back to foster care.

I was worried about the kids around this dog. But he played so well with them and never showed any aggression. We kept him on a leash in case. He was perfect. My son grabbed stuff out of the dog's mouth before I could stop him - no problem. Scoobie accidentally sat on the dog's head - no problem. I tried to retrieve a toy Elmo from the dog - problem!!

That evening the dog jumped up and slept on my daughter's bed all night. In the middle of the night, I had to rush into the kids' room to calm Scoobie, who was yelling in her sleep. I was really scared about the dog around my somnambular daughter. Ziggy stood at the corner of the bed and growled at me. Then he laid back down just in time for Scoobie (still asleep) to kick him. He calmly readjusted his position, and rested his head on the blanket. Okay. So the dog is only aggressive towards me. Interesting.

With some coaching from Cheech, the dog and I are working on our "issues". We think that there may have been an aggressive guy in Ziggy's past.

I have yet to see the slightest aggression towards my kids from Ziggy. My son has been his 2 1/2 year old self with the dog - pulling, pushing, grabbing Ziggy's food. The dog seems fine. Just don't make any threatening moves toward the kids, or Ziggy will chop off your ankles.

I just took the picture above. It's not a very good one - but I realized that we haven't taken any pix of the dog - and I wanted to post one. He should look better when his hair grows in (it was shaved off), and someone isn't trying to photograph him while he is trying to sleep.

Ziggy's Heritage
We were walking the dog a few days ago when someone stopped us to ask if Ziggy was a Coton de Tulier. We said we thought he was a Maltipoo. They insisted that he looks like a Coton.
We have checked it out, and it appears that he is a Coton. Cotons are a breed that emerged in the wild in Madagascar. Cheech and I have always joked about a mythical time, when wild poodles roamed the earth - but apparently it is true.

SAM 9000

I'm really hard on cell phones. They typically only last one year. Last year I was given a particularly sturdy-looking Samsung phone. Things were going well with the phone for about six months, then my daughter decided to waterboard the darn thing. She handed me the damp phone after she had accidentally dropped it in the toilet. Hmmmm. After it dried out, it worked - sort of - sometimes. Occasionally the screen would go entirely blank. And when i really needed to make a call, it would fritz-out, as if to say "I'm sorry Dave, I'm afraid I can't do that".






















Then, it fell out of my pocket into one of our lawn chairs - unnoticed. The next morning, I retrieved it after the rainstorm. I thought it was a goner. After several attempts at resuscitation, I resorted to setting it on top of a lamp. I hoped the heat would evaporate the moisture inside the phone. As so often happens with parents, I ran to take care of a false-alarm child emergency. When I returned - the smell of scorched plastic awaited me. I grabbed my hot phone and saw that it was warped and the external LCD dispaly was melted off. Not good. I sprinted out the door to get diapers and wine - with my smokin' phone in hand.
The screen was as white as the new-fallen snow.
As I cruised the supermarket aisles, a Christmas miracle occurred!! The screen gradually faded in and I could see the clock emerging from the digital fog. I tried dialing, and lo and behold, it worked! Except for the number six on the keypad, it works fine. Hallelujah!

What am I doing here?!!!!

Scoobie is a bike ridin' machine now. Time to indoctrinate the younger one. Here he is on his Christmas bike:






















We got this ride in between freezes. The temperature is supposed to dip into the teens by Friday. This blog is called "Someplacewarm" not "Coldasawitchesteet". I wish that we were in our favorite Caribbean spot, but we are in Austin, Texas - which shouldn't have temperatures like Bismarck, North Dakota - but this year it does.

"Pardon me sir, but you'll have to put up your tray table and stow your bomb under the seat in front you."

The last two airline incidents show that what we are doing for aviation safety and security isn't working. The flight that skidded off the runway in Jamaica appears to show a problem with carry-on luggage. People now cram the overhead compartments with whatever they cannot fit into their one checked bag. Those items may shift during flight - but they become dangerous projectiles in a crash, and obstruct the aisle during evacuation. How about another (oh boy) TSA screening test. If your bag fails the "size test" at the X-ray machine (i.e. it cannot fit through an appropriately sized hole on the conveyor belt), they send you back to the ticketing counter to check your bag. (-Come to think of it, maybe this should apply to some of the over-sized passengers as well).. And bring back the two free bag rule.
The second alarming incident just happened in Detroit. How is it that a young man from NIGERIA, TRAVELLING ALONE, named ABDULMUTALLAB, with a ONE WAY TICKET, and NO LUGGAGE, and apparently on a TERROR WATCH LIST, can board an INTERNATIONAL FLIGHT, with explosives strapped onto himself? Hmmm? Sure makes me feel good that I can't pack my toothpaste in my overstuffed carry-on bag. I'm so glad that I have to hobble through security trying to get my 5 and 2 year old childrens' shoes on while the TSA makes me partially strip and search me while rifling through my child's Barbie backpack. I am singled out for screening half the time I fly - must be my suspiciously Christian sounding name, freckly white skin, blue eyes, and my midwestern accent. Maybe I should be directing my ire at the Dutch security screeners. Maybe.
Or maybe Al Quaeda should just sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight. If they can't ignite their bomb, a U.S. American will probably be decapitated by their own luggage during landing anyway.

Princess is dead - long live Aurora

Part of the problem with chickens is that they aren't the best survivors. They have been domesticated for farm production - and have lost some of their game fowl instincts. Thus we mark the untimely passing of "Princess", one of our four hens. She was taken from us by a local hawk. The kids don't know yet. Not so opportune around X-mas time. This means construction of a large chicken run for the remaining hens: Aurora, Sparkles, and Rainbow. Princess seemed to be the dominant chicken, and my suspicion is that "she" may have actually been a "he". Our neighbors ended up with a rooster among their hens - and I think that Princess may have been mis-sexed. Anyhow she/he will be missed.

Cedar Season

Dang! Well, here it is - cedar season. For those who don't live in Central Texas, cedar season is that time of year when the male mountain cedar trees (juniperus ashei) emit their pollen. It is famous for causing extreme allergic reactions - called "cedar fever". For some reason - not precisely known - it affects some people, and others are completely unaffected. The unaffected ones can't understand why the affected ones are whining so much about this invisible force.
Mountain cedars are the heaviest pollinators in the world - which helps explain the amazing success of this species. The trees are literally " smokin' ". Big smoky red clouds puff off the trees with every gust of wind. Under the microscope, the pollen particle resembles an old WWII naval mine. Kind of feels like one when it hits your nose.
I have known a few people who have moved out of Texas because of cedar fever. It is the one thing that even die hard Austin-o-philes will complain about. Some people make it a few years before developing the allergy - and some (like my beautiful wife) - totally lose the allergy, or never get it.
Some sufferers have dreams about burning all the cedars in Texas. But this would be a monumental task and an ecological disaster. The trees are here because of their great ability to propagate. They are kind of like the porn star of trees.