Archive for December, 2006

said the ferry worker who greeted us at the ramp gate this morning, and we all chuckled as we boarded. It had been pretty blustery out at the gangway, but once we all got settled inside we opened our books and papers and sipped coffee like usual, and the ride up the estuary was uneventful.

And then we got out on San Francisco Bay, and hit the whitewater. (more…)

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Bayside dawn stroll

We live in Alameda, an island in San Francisco Bay, just off the coast of Oakland. Our old house is on the west end, in an area that used to be truck farms until world war two, when they built a naval air station at the westernmost side of the island. They berthed aircraft carriers here such as the USS Hornet, which is now a museum, (more…)

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belchin’ white ale

I brewed a Belgian white ale last weekend. Made with pilsener and wheat malts, a little flaked wheat, lightly hopped, with a nice citrus finish–it’s a good recipe. (more…)

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Second Canine Childhood

I married my wife Roberta because I passed muster with her German Shepherd/Doberman mix, Vinnie. I didn’t realize I was being tested at the time. I was just picking up a date, playing with her sweet, lame, old dog, and petting her austere great-aunt of a tortoiseshell cat, Millicent (also on the review committee). Like many of us, Roberta had gone through her fair share of romantic travails and, upon reflecting on the various problems and the last straws, she realized that her pets had generally not liked these men before she figured it out—so she decided to use them as her radar, her advance scouts in romance and compatibility. (more…)

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I know You’re in There!

Our old dog, Vinnie, loves nothing more than his den-away-from-home, the back seat of our car. So much that he would rather hang out there than in the house. After all, if he is already in the car, we cannot easily leave without him, can we? So sometimes, on nice days, I get home from running errands and just leave him in the car, parked in the driveway, drowsing in the backseat.

Our young German Shepherd, Ernie Kovacs, on the other hand, loves car rides but once we reach our destination, he hates being left behind, ever. He’s getting better as he matures. He rarely whines and leaps frantically about the car any more—honking the horn and knocking the rearview mirror askew—but he has a deep, deep conviction that it is simply and fundamentally wrong. (more…)

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I’ve practiced the moves. I’ve strung together the words, I’ve got some lined up — they’re the next few things I’ll post.

So here I am, as if on the diving boards of childhood once again. A couple brisk steps forward, bounce off the end, and into the air–here I go

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