Tag Archives: sky

The Weather

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It’s all relative.

One of the reasons I left the New York City metro area years ago and moved to Arizona was the weather. The winters in the New York area were just too darn cold. I recall getting ready to go to work one winter morning and glancing out the window at the thermometer to find it reading -7°F. (That’s -22°C for you metric folks.) There was an icicle hanging from it.

The winters were gray, too. By November, the trees would be bare and their trunks and branches were gray. The sky was gray. When it snowed, the snow turned gray. Even the grass seemed gray. It would stay like that until May when the trees budded up again.

One year, it snowed not long after New Years and there was snow on the ground for a full two months. Gray snow.

I don’t like cold weather and I found the gray depressing.

So I moved to Arizona. Winter days here in Wickenburg are quite mild — often warm enough for a T-shirt. Winter nights are cold, sometimes getting down into the mid 20s. The desert depends on the sun for heat and the sun doesn’t disappoint. It’s sunny most days. When the sun sets, the temperature can easily drop 20°F in less than an hour.

The sun does its work only too well in the summer time. It gets hot. Hotter than I bargained for. Hotter than hell for at least two months out of the year. Don’t be lured to Arizona by cheap hotel rates in July and August. Even the people who live here wouldn’t come here then.

Arizona SunriseYesterday and today, it was overcast. It’s been making great sunrises (like the one in this photo, taken out the front of my house this morning) and sunsets.

Today it actually rained.

Rain is a big deal in Arizona. We can go literally months without any rain. This was probably the first rain in at least a month.

For the past two days, the sky has been gray. I’m glad, though, because the sky is blue and clear so often that gray makes a nice change. Everyone I spoke to today pretty much felt the same way. “I hope it rains,” one main said, looking up at the sky.

It had already rained once, but that’s never enough. In Arizona, we hope it rains all day long.

Arizona SunriseYou can hope for rain all you want in Arizona because you’re not likely to get it. Sometimes, when it rains, the air is so dry that the rain dries up before it hits the ground. You can actually see it falling under the cloud, but it disappears before making anything wet. The phenomena is called virga and I think I’ve seen enough of it to last a lifetime. You can see some in this picture, looking pink because of the rising sun. (This picture was taken out my back door yesterday morning.) Sometimes you can actually smell the rain and still not feel a drop. What a tease that is.

The rain does have an interesting smell here. Not at all like back east and nothing like the ocean. Mostly, it’s the smell of the creosote bush. I think it’s the smell of the rain that I like the most. Last night, we slept with the bedroom door open to the patio. This morning, the rain smell was the first thing I noticed. Nice.

Is it possible for the weather in a place to be too nice? I think so.

When you look forward to a rainy day just to have a break from all the good weather, I think that’s proof enough that you’re getting too much of a good thing.

7.1 Piglets!

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I buy a new digital camera.

I was at the Apple Store in Tucson last week. I did a presentation on their 30-inch monitor for a small group of Mac OS X users. It was probably the best presentation I did because the audience was involved, which kept me animated, and they shared some of their tips with me, so I learned something, too.

Like many Apple stores, Tucson’s 30-inch monitor is set up close to the digital cameras. So close, in fact, that I fiddled around with the cameras on display while talking to a shopper before I began. I began admiring a Canon model that would take 5.0 megapixel images (or 5.0 piglet images, as my stepfather would say) and still fit in my purse. That sure beat the 2.1 piglet model I was carrying around. Except I wasn’t carrying it around. I’d left it home. Tucson was our first stop on a trip to Maine. We would leave the following morning, straight from our Tucson hotel to Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport and beyond. When I was packing, I couldn’t find the battery charger for the 2.1 piglet Canon, so I’d left it home. No sense bringing a camera if you can’t charge the battery. I have another Canon camera, a 5.0 piglet G5, which I’d bought for aerial photography work. It wouldn’t fit in my purse, but it took great pictures.

Now here I was at the Apple Store, looking at a camera that would do the same thing and still fit in my purse.

Did I mention I got a royalty check last week? It arrived the day before we went to Tucson. It was a very nice check. The kind of check that makes you want to buy a round of drinks in the local bar. Or buy yourself a new toy.

It didn’t take much convincing. Mike, to his credit, tried to remain neutral throughout. But somehow I convinced myself to buy it. And it was kind of nice that the Apple Store offers discounts to Pearson authors. It wasn’t a big discount, but a small discount is better than no discount.

The sales guy at the counter went into the back and returned with two boxes that looked identical.”I only want one,” I said cheerfully.”Yes,” he said, “but I thought you might like to see this model. It’s basically the same camera, but it has 7.1 megapixels. That means you can make bigger enlargements.”He began a discussion of why more piglets is better than less. I already knew so I gently cut him short. Mike and I discussed it. The price difference wasn’t major. And that royalty check had been quite impressive. I talked myself into the upgrade.

So now I have a 7.1 piglet camera in my purse.

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I took some photos in Maine. My favorite is above.

And I didn’t even take the G5 out of its camera bag.

Brunch at the Princess

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Now THAT’S a meal to remember!

We spent Saturday night in Tucson after my Apple store appearance. We had a 9:05 AM flight from Phoenix to Boston and it seemed silly to drive all the way back to Wickenburg just to drive back to Phoenix in the morning.

We were actually on line for security at Sky Harbor when we decided to look at our boarding passes. That’s when we discovered that America West had changed our flight to one departing at about 1:30 PM. We were four and a half hours early for our new flight.

I hate when that happens.

Fortunately, we had a car at the airport and it was Sunday morning. Sunday morning in Phoenix means brunch to Mike and me. We normally go to the Biltmore, but we’ve been there so many times that we were interested in trying something new. I suggested the Scottsdale Princess. The information booth near baggage claim had the number. I called and made a reservation for 10 AM.

I should have been suspicious when they told me they wanted a credit card number to hold the reservation. But I just rattled it off — I use my American Express card so often the number is memorized — and hung up.

I never asked about price. After all, how much could it be? The most we’d ever spent on brunch was $55 per person at the Biltmore some years ago, when it was a very good brunch. It’s not quite as good now, but I think it’s cheaper.

We had sticker shock when we saw the sign at the restaurant’s door: $70 per person. Ouch! No wonder they get your credit card number and have a 24-hour cancellation policy. They don’t want to lose potential customers who faint away when they see what they’ll be paying. Silly people like us who don’t ask first.

But they were pouring Taitinger champagne — not the cheap junk most restaurants try to get away with at Sunday brunch. And everything looked good. I mean really good. So we went in.

Oh, how I needed an experience like this! Excellent service, from the moment we stepped up to the door. We were seated by a maitre d’ wearing a crisp, clean suit who didn’t seem the least bit put off by our ultra casual attire. He put us at a table by the window, where we could look out at the gardens. Our waiter appeared almost immediately, offering bottled water and then champagne. He offered to give us a tour of the buffet area, which extended from the restaurant’s interior out to a beautifully decorated Mediterranean looking courtyard. We decided to explore for ourselves and wandered outside.

I have never seen a brunch with as many options as this one. There were smoked and grilled meats with accompanying relishes and sauces. All kinds of smoked fish. Three kinds of caviar with all the fixin’s. Grilled vegetables. Tapas. Plain and exotic fruits. An omelet station, a crepe station, a pasta station, and a carving station — which also offered freshly grilled filet mignon, pork chops, lamb chops, salmon, and trout. Giant, pre-peeled shrimp and steamed crab legs. At least 10 kinds of cheeses. At least 20 kinds of desserts.

Everything was of unquestionable quality, prepared to perfection, and displayed attractively. The staff was knowledgeable and friendly.

We made four trips to the buffet. Although the place filled right up, there was never a line for anything we wanted to eat. Each time we returned with a new plate, our old plate and silverware was gone and new silverware was in its place. Our napkins were neatly folded at our place. Our waiter returned frequently to refresh our champagne. One time, we finished our champagne before going to the buffet for more food and returned to find our glasses still empty. I was surprised that our waiter had apparently slipped. But he appeared with the champagne bottle right after we returned and poured, explaining that he didn’t want the champagne to sit and get warm in our glasses while we were gone.

Was I dreaming? Pinch me!

Oh, how I needed this experience! I’d begun to think that service and quality was something I could no longer expect when dining out. This set me straight again. Thank heaven our flight plans were changed!

After an hour and a half, we asked for our check. When the waiter brought it, he told us that we’d eaten quickly, that people usually stayed an average of three hours. We told him about our flight and he understood.

Brunch cost over $170 for two, including tip. But was it worth it? You bet! I’ll be back again — when other plans don’t “rush” me through my meal.

And one more thing. Our new flight to Boston stopped in Las Vegas and didn’t get to Boston until midnight local time. Our brunch may have been expensive, but it lasted the whole day — we weren’t the least bit hungry on the flight.

The Mohave County Fair

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We give Kingman residents and visitors helicopter rides.

I started planning for the Mohave County Fair at least a year ago. I exchanged phone calls and e-mails with the folks who handle the concessions for the fair, including Betty Watters and her son Phil Richardson. I flew up to Kingman in June to check out possible landing zones. That’s when I paid the fee for my “booth” in the north parking area. The dates September 15-18 went from pencil to ink on my calendar.

Mike and I went up to Kingman early Thursday morning. I flew, Mike drove. Mike brought our camper up there. It’s a 3-horse slant trailer with living quarters. I left about an hour after Mike and arrived at the fairgrounds the same time he did. I did a lap around Kingman, planning my route for rides, while Mike parked and secured my landing zone. Then I landed in a huge cloud of dust, cooled down the engine and shut down. We spent the next two hours setting up boundaries for the landing zone, putting up banners and signs, and doing housekeeping chores in the camper. The nice folks at the fairgrounds allowed us to park the camper at one end of the landing zone. On the other side of the fence were a few portable toilets (which we wouldn’t need) and the trailers and living quarters for the carnival folks. Beyond that were the carnival rides and attractions. And beyond that was the rest of the fair.

Photo

Mike made a trip to the local True Value hardware store to pick up a sprinkler and another hose. Phil had run his own hoses to the landing zone and we decided to use a sprinkler, which we’d move periodically throughout the day, to keep the landing zone damp. That would keep dust down. Mike also had to take a trip to town to fill the camper’s two gas bottles so we’d have refrigerator, hot water, and stove use. The camper also has a full bathroom with two holding tanks, so we could use our own clean toilet and shower daily.

We also had Jack the Dog and Alex the Bird with us. Jack had to stay on a leash. Alex stayed under the trailer’s awning in his cage. Neither of them were bothered by a helicopter taking off and landing about 150 feet away from them.

Betty had asked her neighbor, Tony, to give us a hand. Tony is on permanent disability after being hit by a truck years ago, but he was fully capable of helping us with the things we needed to do. He wound up working with us on Thursday and Friday and lending moral support on Saturday.

By 2 PM, we were ready to do rides. The only thing we needed were passengers. That was the problem. It was 2 PM on a weekday. Kids were in school, parents were at work. No one was interested in the carnival or our rides.

The ride took off from the north parking area. I had to make a crosswind departure, since heading into the wind would have taken me right over the carnival rides. From there, we flew up the east side of Centennial Park, north of Wal-Mart, just north of the I-40 pass through the mountains, down to the Beale Street exit on I-40, along the south side of Andy Devine Boulevard, across Hualapai Mountain Road, and up the east side of the fairgrounds. I made a 1807deg; turn at a cell tower north of I-40, then came straight in to the landing zone, landing right into the wind. Total time was about 6-8 minutes.

I’d priced the rides at $25 per person including tax. This was before fuel prices went up, so it was a real bargain. My usual ride prices are $30 to $35 per person for an 8-10 minute flight, but the fair folks practically begged me to keep the price down. So I did, depending on the cheaper price to attract more passengers and shorter ride length to make it profitable.

We managed to give 11 rides on Thursday. Very disappointing. We went to the Dambar restaurant for a good dinner, though.

On Friday, things weren’t much different. I walked over to the nearby junior high school around 10 AM, suggesting that a few of the teachers might want to walk students over to see the helicopter and get one of my presentations on aerodynamics or how helicopters fly. The school was very interested, but Fridays are half days so classes are shorter. There wouldn’t be enough time for any of the classes to walk over and back and get the presentation.

Things picked up late Friday afternoon. We did 10 rides, most of which were after sunset. The moon was big and full and beautiful and the carnival rides looked great from the sky.

By that time, our two helpers, Alex and his college buddy Ryan, had come to help out. There wasn’t much for them to do. They pitched their tent behind our camper, uncomfortably close to those portable toilets on the other side of the fence. We ate carnival food for dinner and walked around the fair.

We were pretty disappointed at the turnout so far.

Saturday changed everything. Although I wasn’t supposed to start flying until 10 AM, my first passenger arrived at 9, before the fair even opened. Heck, I didn’t care. I gave him a ride. For the next two hours, I did a few rides. Then the dam burst (so to speak) and I had a nonstop flow of passengers. Mike, Alex, and Ryan loaded 2 or 3 people on board for each flight. The only time I shut down was to get fuel at the local airport 5 miles away (three times!) and to take a 20-minute lunch/bathroom break. I put 5.5 hours on the helicopter’s hobbs meter that day — quite a bit when you consider that the hobbs only ticks when I’m in flight so my time spinning on the ground didn’t count. I figure I took about 100 passengers for rides that day. Most of them were in a helicopter for their very first time. I gave all the kids who flew with me helicopter toys (while they lasted). One guy liked it so much he went up twice.

We celebrated with four steak dinners at the Dambar.

Sunday looked as if it might be a repeat of Saturday, but the flow of passengers was starting later. The wind was stronger than the previous few days and it was warmer, so taking off with a crosswind (rather than a headwind) when I was heavy was tough. I did about 20 rides before we decided to call it quits. It was 1:30 PM. We packed up, said goodbye, and got ready to go.

I stopped off at the carnival office to leave a card for the carnival owner. I’d had a good event and was interested in working with carnivals to do it more often.

Mike left with the camper and I took off with Alex and Ryan. We took the scenic route home: to Bullhead City and down the Colorado River to Parker, where we refueled (at $4.54 per gallon!). From there, we hooked up with the Bill Williams River, overflew Swansea and the Alamo Dam, and returned to Wickenburg.

We’ll go back to the Mohave County Fair next year. But we’ll just spend all day Saturday and Sunday. I’m already looking forward to it.

My thanks to Betty and Phil for all their help.

Living Will

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I pass along something amusing (and rather sad) to readers who think.

This morning, I got an e-mail from my cousin Kathy who lives back in New York. Kathy teaches school and is one of the family’s more thoughtful members. (Sadly, she’s related by marriage, so it doesn’t help us score points in our bloodline.)

Kathy often passes on funny things she receives via e-mail. Unlike a lot of folks who forward stuff to me, the ones I get from Kathy that aren’t related to menopause or the stupidity of men are often quite well written and funny. This one was like that. I want to share it with readers here.

Sadly, I don’t have a by-line for the piece and don’t know who wrote it so I can’t include credit for it. I did not write it. If anyone out there knows the original author of this piece, please let me know. And obviously, since I respect copyright, if the author has a problem with me sharing this, he should contact me so I can remove it. Frankly, if I’d wrote it, it would be…well, right here. And I’d be proud to put my name on it.

That said, here it is. Read it and think.

Below is an example of a LIVING WILL you may want to draft in light of recent events:

* In the event I lapse into a persistent vegetative state, I want medical authorities to resort to extraordinary means to prolong my hellish semiexistence. Fifteen years wouldn’t be long enough for me.

* I want my wife and my parents to compound their misery by engaging in a bitter and protracted feud that depletes their emotions and their bank accounts.

* I want my wife to ruin the rest of her life by maintaining an interminable vigil at my bedside. I’d be really jealous if she waited less than a decade to start dating again or otherwise rebuilding a semblance of a normal life.

* I want my case to be turned into a circus by losers and crackpots from around the country who hope to bring meaning to their empty lives by investing the same transient emotion in me that they once reserved for Laci Peterson, Chandra Levy and that little girl who got stuck in a well.

* I want those crackpots to spread vicious lies about my wife.

* I want to be placed in a hospice where protesters can gather to bring further grief and disruption to the lives of dozens of dying patients and families whose stories are sadder than my own.

* I want the people who attach themselves to my case because of their deep devotion to the sanctity of life to make death threats against any judges, elected officials or health care professionals who disagree with them.

* I want the medical geniuses and philosopher kings who populate the Florida Legislature to ignore me for more than a decade and then turn my case into a forum for weeks of politically calculated bloviation.

* I want total strangers – oily politicians, maudlin news anchors, ersatz friars and all other hangers-on – to start calling me “Bobby,” as if they had known me since childhood.

* I’m not insisting on this as part of my directive, but it would be nice if Congress passed a “Bobby’s Law” that applied only to me and ignored the medical needs of tens of millions of other Americans without adequate health coverage.

* Even if the “Bobby’s Law” idea doesn’t work out, I want Congress – especially all those self-described conservatives who claim to believe in “less government and more freedom” – to trample on the decisions of doctors, judges and other experts who actually know something about my case. And I want members of Congress to launch into an extended debate that gives them another excuse to avoid pesky issues such as national security and the economy.

* In particular, I want House Majority Leader Tom DeLay to use my case as an opportunity to divert the country’s attention from the mounting political and legal troubles stemming from his slimy misbehavior.

* And I want Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist to make a mockery of his Harvard medical degree by misrepresenting the details of my case in ways that might give a boost to his 2008 presidential campaign.

* I want Frist and the rest of the world to judge my medical condition on the basis of a snippet of dated and demeaning videotape that should have remained private.

* Because I think I would retain my sense of humor even in a persistent vegetative state, I’d want President Bush – the same guy who publicly mocked Karla Faye Tucker when signing off on her death warrant as governor of Texas – to claim he was intervening in my case because it is always best “to err on the side of life.”

* I want the state Department of Children and Families to step in at the last moment to take responsibility for my well-being, because nothing bad could ever happen to anyone under DCF’s care.

* And because Gov. Jeb Bush is the smartest and most righteous human being on the face of the Earth, I want any and all of the aforementioned directives to be disregarded if the governor happens to disagree with them. If he says he knows what’s best for me, I won’t be in any position to argue.