Going APE 2017

Well, today was the annual Washington State Geocachers Association jamboree known as Going APE, held as always in and around Iron Horse State Park at Hyak, Washington. We've done this before, and the experience was much the same as it was back in 2011 (though if anything, my hip joints hurt more this time. owie.), so if you're curious, take a look here.

One thing was different, though. This time we actually logged a find on the APE cache, which is sort of a big deal as it's the last one left in North America, and until relatively recently it was thought to be destroyed. A contingent of rugged and determined geocachers hunted all around the area, found where the cache had been ditched by thieves, lugged it back to ground zero and managed to get Groundspeak to take the cache out of archived status, so woot woots all around!

PROOF.

Also, this time we brought lightsticks. We were hoping to find the Fen Dweller and have a little Tunnel Rave Party right there in the middle of the mountain, but alas, he had to go on break as he'd been busy all day getting passersby to sign his cache. So we had to be content with whirling our lightsticks around and making Homestar Runner techno noises as we walked. (It was far from the most annoying noise we heard today, believe me.)

Several times today we ran into Fen and Mitch. Not literally -- although if that were true, we should probably sign up for roller derby or something -- but figuratively, doing their thing for the WSGA. And we saw three hominid critters: the ubiquitous black-furred ape, the aforementioned Fen Dweller (not to be confused with the other Fen, who dwells elsewhere) and a Sasquatch hanging around the APE cache, posing for pictures. I did not opt to have my picture taken with Mr. Squatch this year.

As far as the walk through the tunnel is concerned: because the prevailing wind blows from west to east, it's a lot cooler walking through the tunnel to the caches on the other side than it is walking back toward Hyak. Every now and then I stopped and let the wind catch up with us. AH YEAH COOOOOOL.

So, while my legs are now burning and my hips are hurting and I'm walking around like an arthritic octogenarian this evening, I'm still proud. Even though I'm totally out of shape, I completed a walk that was over 5K long. Not too shabby for a fat lady!

And now to take way too much ibuprofen. mm sweet ibuprofen come to mama.

The mighty Geocaching Block Party of 2014

Well, having had a few days to recover, I have to say this was an eventful Block Party... though some of it not the kind of "eventful" I'd care to repeat.

First, the good stuff: we met some spiffy new people and completed the lab cache challenge for this year (I especially liked the one with the box that had multiple combination locks, all of which had to be successfully opened to reveal the passcode.)

Also good stuff: in addition to the merry party of Fen, Mitch and Mike, our friends Linda and son came to the Block Party this year, and by all accounts they had a blast!

Shown here: our doughty adventurer, undaunted by the ick factor, scrabbles about in slimy goop in order to find the next passcode.

Additional good stuff: I gots me some pretties.

The large Celtic-themed coin I purchased; the rest were given away as swag or as rewards for finishing challenges. (Yay, steampunk-related geotags for the win!)

You may notice a dearth of pictures of me or of Captain Midnight this year. There's a reason for that. I was preoccupied to the point that I took very few pictures, because...

Not-so-good stuff: I got sick.
Those of you who know me may already be aware that I am a Tough Swede and I can handle it! Well, Tough Swedes can take on the cold all day long; heat is a different story. It was hot and slightly humid in Seattle, I hadn't eaten breakfast or taken the time to put plenty of water into me beforehand, and I'm already at high risk to become easily overheated (yes, diabetes and family history of dehydration, I'm lookin' at you). About two hours into the day's festivities, I began to develop a pounding headache of Zeus-gives-birth-to-Athena proportions. Then I got flushed and dizzy, and suddenly stopped sweating -- and didn't start up again, even after I began belatedly guzzling water. After that came the nausea and, um, related emesis. Yup, heat stroke. At least it was a relatively mild case, but I haven't been quite right all this weekend.

It was the kind of fun that isn't. I don't think I'll choose to do that part again. (Next year, remind me to drink lots of water in advance so as to stave off further forays into dehydration-related ick.)

Oh, yeah, one more thing. Just because it seemed like a good idea at the time, I picked up another geocoin, gave it a name and a purpose and released it into the wild this weekend. The Marty Fromage Memorial Coin is my small, goofy tribute, a way of focusing on the positive nature of one man's life rather than on the particulars of his death. I hope it will go on to have many happy adventures around the world.

On the naming of names

As a writer, I take some time trying to find good names for my characters. I tend to pick names with some kind of symbolic meaning, though I try not to make it too glaringly obvious. (Get too ham-handed about this and your characters start sounding like fugitives from Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress.) Consequently, I've started asking the people I meet about their names. Not only is it good research, but the responses are consistently fascinating. Most people like to talk about their names -- what they mean, where they come from, all the family politics that were involved in choosing them. Some people come from countries where there are strict rules about what names you may give your children (a skosh totalitarian, but then again in those countries you never run across a kid named Bronkyall-Spazm Johnson, or something equally horrific). Some people have names which they started out hating but have gradually come to appreciate; others, like my friend Fen, eventually choose a name that they feel better suits them.

My own given name means "lily." It's not exactly an accurate descriptor, but as name meanings go, it's not bad; I could've been saddled with Dolores, which means "sorrows," or Kennedy, which means "ugly head." Or I could have been one of my sister's students whose name was Dejabrie, which as far as I can tell means "this cheese tastes familiar." Pass, thanks.

I am hugely fascinated by names and the practice of naming conventions, partly because one of the rare cross-cultural constants seems to be the importance of names. It shows up in Judeo-Christian scripture (where God bestows a name on the first man, Adam), in the oldest poems and stories, in scientific nomenclature, in modern epic fantasy, and in various cultural traditions and mores. To one extent or another, the whole human family seems fixated on the practice of giving every living being a specific handle.

This fixation for naming things can sometimes cause problems. For instance, we have an odd naming tradition in the west wherein we bestow names on tiny infants -- sometimes even on the unborn -- before we get the chance to know them as people. The majority of Westerners are thus forced to grow into the names they were given, rather than receiving names that fit who they are. I've often wondered why we don't adopt the more sensible convention of giving children temporary names at birth and allowing them to choose their own names when they come of age.

Although relatively few people change their given names, the idea of taking a new name as a symbol of personal metamorphosis is common in both secular and religious contexts. Traditionally a western woman takes her husband's surname when she marries, symbolically indicating her love for and closeness to her husband and his family. (Less traditionally, a man sometimes takes his wife's surname, the couple create a hyphenated surname, or they choose a brand-new surname of their own invention. I say, whatever floats your boat.) Many African-Americans, once freed from slavery, stopped using the surnames of their former masters and chose new surnames, such as Freeman. And some religious traditions require acolytes or new members to choose a new name as a symbol of the powerful changes they have undergone in joining the faith.

Perhaps most interesting is the concept of the true name. In ancient philosophy and occult tradition, the true name of a thing is a word which describes or defines it perfectly. Knowing a being's true name was thought to give one power over that being -- see, for example, "Rumpelstiltskin" and numerous other folk tales. In some cultures a person's true name was considered so powerful that people took nicknames for everyday use, concealing their true names so that no one could use such knowledge to enthrall them. Funnily enough, in the Internet age one's true name has again become significant, as people who know your real name can use it to gain power -- at least the power to look up your information on search engines and social media.

Whether you love your name, tolerate it, or hate it, there is always a certain visceral power to it. Most people react when they hear their own name being spoken aloud in a crowd, even if they don't expect to run across anyone who knows them. (I once witnessed several adult men, all with the same first name, cringe instinctively in reaction to a mother's stern warning to her child: "Michael! Don't make me count!") Dale Carnegie, of How to Win Friends and Influence People fame, understood and knew how to harness this power -- his comment on the subject was, "Remember that a person's name is to that person the sweetest and most important sound in any language." Even if you dislike your own name, there are few things more delightful than hearing it said with tender affection by someone you love. And that may be the best quality about the human tendency to name things -- it can turn a simple, single word into a kind of gentle verbal caress, a way of saying "I see you" that buoys up your spirits and stays with you long after all other words are forgotten.

So, do you like your name? Does it have some special meaning to you? If you could choose your own name, what would it be?

I'm just a cache machine... a loggin', cachin' fiend...

No, this is not a remake of a bad Wham! song. Captain Midnight and I are off to enjoy the wonder of nature that is a cache machine -- a massive convoy of geocachers following a pre-planned route, finding as many caches as possible along said route. This one's going to be in North Kitsap, and it will be my very first cache machine, so I'm pretty excited.

CM and I got up at Oh Dark Hundred (aka Oh You Gotta Be Kidding Me) and drove, only occasionally losing our way, to a Park & Ride where we met up with Fen and Mitch to carpool on the ferry over to Kitsap.

The Puyallup was our gallant ship for the day, complete with many groggy passengers...

...and a rather too-optimistically named Sun Deck.

My honey was pleased to be underway.

Soon enough the town of Kingston hove in sight, and we were ready to do some caching in earnest. Or at least in Kingston.

After hitting a few caches around the waterfront...

...and a few more in the 'burbs...

...we headed into the woods.

As you probably already know, "geocaching" comes from an old Latin phrase meaning "how geeks hike."

We wandered through the woods for some time and found a few caches (and DNFed a few as well).

What else was there to find?

Flora and fauna to photograph, that's what!

There was fungus among us.

Also a number of fluffy lichens...

...dew-speckled evergreens...

...and the occasional attractive mammal.

Ah, the trail back to civilization.

We stopped in Kingston to pick up lunch at the Main Street Ale House, which turned out to be delicious (so much so that I forgot to take any pictures). If you happen to be in the area, hungry, and not in a big hurry to be served, I can highly recommend it.

Then it was back into the fray!

We found a cache under this tree (never you mind where; go find it yourself) and then headed further along the trail in search of another.

You guessed it, more fungus. And bonus slugs.

D'aww, invertebrate love.

Anyway, after some tramping through the woods we found this big ol' burned out stump.

No, really, it was huge. The camera does not give a decent idea of its scale.

Had I taken a picture of myself nestled inside this thing, I would have looked teeny-tiny.

Anyway, eventually we found the cache we were seeking and started looking for caches in more populous areas.

...but wait, what's this in the distance?

We drove past for a closer look.

Huh. Must be a Walmart.

We stopped at the shore for a look at the (faraway) Point No Point Lighthouse.

The Puget Sound has some amusing place names. Deception Pass, Cape Disappointment, Point No Point, Useless Bay... I'm sort of surprised Lewis & Clark didn't just name something Mount Screw It, Let's Beat Feet Back To Civilization.

Moving on. In this case "moving on" means "back into the woods for another hike." Your gracious hostess, who is out of shape, did a lot of huffing and puffing around this point (but no blowing down pigs' houses; that's just rude).

Beautiful area, though.

Around about dinner time, we decided to visit the festive location where the other geocachers were gathered.

And there were quite a few of them, making merry and eating chips and salsa.

The ancient Aztec whatsits on the wall said, "TIME TO GO HOME, GEOCACHERS."

So we did.

Thanks for taking us with you today, Fen and Mitch! It was fun.

Thanksgiving 2013

[Most of these photos were taken by Fen, who was kind enough to share them. Thanks, Fen!]

It's about time I mentioned Thanksgiving, isn't it?

Well, this year since we decided to hang around the Seattle area rather than going to visit family, we didn't have any firm plans for Thanksgiving. Happily, the always-gracious Fen and Mitch took the initiative and invited us to their feast.

Behold their stately new digs (and a bonus piece of our car)!

We wandered in with a couple of vegetable side dishes in tow, greeted our hosts, met their friend Shane and proceeded to gab incessantly until dinner was ready.

The table was set (no festive table would be complete without R2-D2, ne?)...

...and then came the spread! Clockwise from back left: turkey dressing, Not Just Ordinary Carrots, Fen's family fruit salad, turkey and ham gravy, Shane's candied yams, turkey, ham, green bean casserole, homestyle mashed potatoes. Their culinary kung fu is strong.

We gathered around the table, had a prayer and promptly fell to. And great was the oming and noming thereof, and lo, many bottles of Martinelli's were emptied upon this day.

"But where is the pie? You can't have Thanksgiving without pie!" I hear you cry.

Ha.

For when the groaning board was cleared away, lo! the pies were made manifest. From left to right, pumpkin pie, "eggnog pie" and apple crumb pie.

I, uh, might have had a little sliver of the apple pie. Yeah, I know it's not good for diabetics to have sugary treats, but it's only once a year, people.

After having ingested an inconceivable amount of food, we cleared everything away and played a quick round of Something Different (it's like a cross between Fluxx and Uno, highly recommended) before CM and I decided not to overstay our welcome. So it was that we took our leave and wandered home again, jiggity jig.

As I've mentioned elsewhere on social media, we have many reasons to be thankful -- but I tend to be most thankful for my friends. I'm not particularly skillful at making or keeping friends, and I appreciate the people who have made the extra effort to get past my socially awkward exterior and figure out whether there was someone worth knowing underneath. My close friends, including Fen and Mitch, continually make life brighter and more interesting and I'm grateful for the way they've changed me for the better.

Thanks again for a lovely evening, guys.

Soup Night 5: Trip, Trip, Fall!

(Photos graciously provided by Captain Midnight, since I was too busy running around doing last-minute prep to remember my camera.)

So Thursday night was another iteration of the semi-regularly-recurring event known at our house as Soup Night. And we got cookin'.

In fact, this time I broke down and purchased a brand-new honkin' stockpot, as seen on the left, for the occasion. (We've done this enough times now that it seemed like a reasonable investment in future Soup Nights.)

At the time this picture was taken, our house was filled with the aromatic scents of cinnamon and ginger and star anise and galangal and coconut. Mmm yeah.

Miss V also provided plenty of seasonal ambiance by decorating the house with festive bleeding candles and changing lenticular portraits.

This time we made three soups:

Cinnamon Beef Noodles, here pictured without noodles (as has been mentioned on many occasions, I am THE GREATEST CINNAMON BEEF NOODLE COOK WHAT EVER LIVED),

Tom Kha Gai, this time made completely from scratch (and completely filling the pot),

and Pumpkin Cream Soup, for anyone who might be feeling cautious about zippy flavors.

Plus Fen and Mitch brought a bonus soup: Curried Pumpkin and Lentil, a nice thick pottage with roasted cumin seeds sprinkled on top.

We're all ready for guests.

And at 7 p.m., just like clockwork...

...guests appeared! As is tradition at Soup Night, they brought bowls and spoons, some bread, and a few brought extra folding chairs -- which came in very handy, because we had upward of 20 people this time. They even brought a birthday cake since one of our guests was having a birthday (happy #42, Joe!). People ate and chatted and goofed off and generally had a pleasant evening, based on the responses I've been getting on Facebook.

As always, if you missed Soup Night this time, don't fret; we'll have another one in a month or two!

Florida through the five senses

I haven't had the time or inclination to cover my entire vacation in Florida as it occurred. However, I did make some short lists of things I've encountered with my five senses, to wit:

Things I have seen so far in Florida:
Orlando International Airport.
The inside of a rented condo.
Publix.
Hollywood Studios.
Epcot Center.
Wal-Mart.
What intense heat and humidity do to a short fat chick such as myself.
The Magic Kingdom.
Several summer thunderstorms.
A double rainbow all the way (so intense!).
A Buzz Lightyear hoodie.
Disney's Animal Kingdom.
Lots of geckos.
Kennedy Space Center.
An alligator in the wild!

Things I have heard so far in Florida:
The droning of hundreds of ceiling fans.
Cicadas.
The voices of Paul Frees and Thurl Ravenscroft. EVERYWHERE.
Lots of Sherman Bros. songs: "There's A Great Big Beautiful Tomorrow," "In The Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Room," and the infamous "It's A Small World."
A distraught father bellowing "Bauti! Bautistaaaa!" as he searched frantically through the crowds for his missing son. (Every parent's nightmare...)
Lots of regional Southern accents.
Lots of foreign languages (but mostly Spanish).
"Heart, We Did All That We Could" sung by Teddi Barra.
Buzz Lightyear calling me a space cadet. Hmph.
The sound of Donald Duck hitting the back wall of a theater.
The entire baritone sax line of the song "Under the Sea" until I knew it by heart (we got stuck on the Little Mermaid ride).
The soft whirr of a passing monorail.
Some guy rapping as part of a Disney parade (?).
Fireworks a-poppin'.

Things I have smelled so far in Florida:
Fresh popcorn.
Fake skunk smell on the Imagination Station ride.
Genuine dog poop smell at Downtown Disney.
Cleaning solution.
The sweating masses yearning to breathe free.
Nine-pound lemons.
Chocolate.
The slightly sulfurous scent of Florida tap water.
Cotton candy and churros.
Norwegian pastries.
Chlorinated water.
Chick-fil-a take-out.
The grandma's-basement smell of Pirates of the Caribbean.
Moroccan food.
French fries.

Things I have touched/felt so far in Florida:
The kind of humid heat that feels like running into a watery wall the moment you step outside.
Camel spit from Aladdin's Flying Carpets in Adventureland.
My honey, on a daily basis.
The grab bar on the Hollywood Studios Tower of Terror. FOR DEAR LIFE.
Someone else's camera, to take a picture.
A pop gun at Toy Story Midway Mania, as I vainly attempted to unseat my honey as reigning champion scorer of the vehicle.
Bubbles! Lots and lots of bubbles!
The large crypt that makes music in the standby line at the Haunted Mansion.
A Publix shopping cart.
Handrails, queue ropes and safety bars.
The residual heat of a freshly pressed penny.
The weepy condensation on the outside of an ice-cold glass of water.
The dark, scaly, dry skin of a large Middle Eastern lizard named Morpheus.
Cockroaches crawling under my seat in "It's Tough to Be a Bug."
A good percentage of that final splashdown on Splash Mountain.
Heat rash. Meh.
A moon rock.

Things I have tasted so far in Florida:
The funky, slightly sulfurous taste of Florida tap water.
Hummus and sweet peppers.
Powerade Zero (helpful replacer of salts when you've spent the entire day sweating your brains out).
Eggs made by my honey.
Chocolate.*
Dole Whip.*
Ghirardelli ice cream.*
New York strip steak in a simulated drive-in movie theater.
No sugar added raspberry sorbet.
Chicken curry at Tusker House.
A Chick-fil-a salad.
Breakfast buffet at the Crystal Palace.
Chinese watermelon soda and a few other international flavors at Club Cool.
Taco salad at Pecos Bill's.
Salad, soup and soft-serve* at Sweet Tomatoes.
Salmon teriyaki at Mitsukoshi.
Fall-off-the-bone tender lamb shank at Marrakesh.
The sweet kisses of my husband.

*Yes, I know, naughty diabetic, no biscuit. However, I did lots of walking and lots of sweating, and frankly it didn't make that much difference to my blood sugar. So. There.

Geocaching Block Party 2013

Let me explain.

No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

On Saturday we went with Fen and Mitch and Mike to Groundspeak's annual Geocaching Block Party in Fremont. It was, as expected, lots of geo-geeky fun. Much wandering around, discovery of caches, eating of Mediterranean deliciousness for lunch, reveling in the joys of Theo chocolate, and talking to interesting people from all over the planet. Oh, and watching ships pass by on the canal.

At the end of the event I entered a drawing for a nifty-cool event-themed geocoin...

...which, much to my surprise, I actually won. Oh yeah, I gots swag bay-bee.

Also sunburn, but it was totally worth it.

Come talk to me and I'll show you my coin. (No, that is not a euphemism for anything naughty. Perv.)