I Just Love the Internet

I have learned, just yesterday, that my Internet Service Provider does not allow me to send email through any connection other than its own. That is, when connected to the internet at a hotel or motel or through a friend's (or even a relative's) internet provider as I am now, I am viewed as a possible spammer, or hacker, or some other such miscreant.

I can receive email just fine. I just cannot send. It does not please me to learn this. It means I must do my email online through their website if I need to reply to anyone or send someone email. It means I must take an extra step. It makes my life more complicated. I do not like that. I like to keep my life, like my mind, uncomplicated.

Still, I suppose they are justified in doing this and I suppose I could get them to trust me and give me the simpler access I would need. But I won't. I don't have a need to do this very often, maybe once a year, and for fairly short periods. And it is true that I can do just as much through webmail access as I can using my laptop's mail client.

So just why am I complaining? I have no idea. I just like to complain. Which brings me to another point. I like to read editorials and opinion columns in the LA Times and the Boston Globe. And I especially like to read the comments made by other readers about the subjects of these columns and editorials.

Why? Because as much I like to complain, I like to read how others complain. Just yesterday (I think), I was reading a column about a golf course in Milton, MA opposing the building of a wind turbine near by. It seems they feel it will intrude upon the quality of life for the golfers. I am sure they otherwise are in favor of these Wind Turbines, just not where they can see them or maybe hear them. This is called the NIMBY* syndrome.

In the complaints, I came across a reference to the following link:

http://vhemt.org/

So I put it in my Interesting Places To Visit list under the name “May we live long and die out” because, well, that's its theme, or motto. They are:

The Voluntary Human Extinction Movement

I just love the internet...

*Not In My Back Yard

A Day On the Links

Well, my addiction was eased somewhat by yesterday's tour of a golf course. I was placed with 3 youngsters (Jay, Sean, and Mike) who had some impressive drives and some very impressive directional issues. The day was a lesson in how control is sometimes better than power. Much better.

The course wasn't long but winds through a shallow canyon area, a creek meanders through it, crossing or bordering most holes. It's not a long course, most holes being short and easily reachable in regulation. But it pays to stay in the fairways. Hitting into the rough brought trees, lots of trees, into play (as my playing partners quickly learned).

All of them hit the ball pretty far. They also tended to slice the ball rather severely. All had the usual excuses for struggling, lack of play. I noted the addition of alcohol consumption, along with a decided lack of concentration that often accompanies that.

Nice guys, all in their 30's; one in the Navy. No gambling was even mentioned. A good thing, I suppose, since I would have lost only 3 holes. They took a (large) number of Mulligans instead of penalties and played fast and loose with free drops and ground under repair determination. So I might not have even lost 3 holes when I think about it.

Jay was the Navy man, his job being to jump out of helicopters to retrieve pilots in the water. Mike worked in taxes and gave us a running commentary on the benefits and pitfalls of real estate investment, tax-wise. Sean never told us what he did for a living or anything else about himself except that he was honest about his inability to putt halfway decently.

The course was one I once lived near, back in the mid-80's just before I moved to Virginia, and one I used to walk while carrying my bag. I wouldn't have made 6 holes that way yesterday. Just climbing up to an elevated green was enough to make me wobbly, since the elevations were 30 feet or more with 45 degree slopes.

The day was full of talk... even when courteous silence would have been the rule... I don't think they quite understood that. Still, the chatter didn't bother me. And I enjoyed the jokes, the ribbing, even the occasional praise over shots. That is really what golf is all about; more than the activity, it's the interaction with your playing partners. And these guys were fun to be around.

Maybe I enjoyed it mostly because this old goat shot 81 while the youngsters struggled to break 100 (even with the cheating).

Arrival!

My name is Douglas and I'm a golf-aholic. I haven't touched a golf club in pleasure, anger, frustration, confusion, agony, or with any other emotion, for a week now. It's tough driving across country for those of us with this addiction.

My wife doesn't understand me about this. But she is sympathetic. In fact, it appears I have a pass for tomorrow. And I shall take advantage of it, too. I am not ashamed.

Now that we have arrived in San Diego, I may miss a few days blogging. Mostly because I hate trying to type on the laptop. Some people like these things but I don't. It's very uncomfortable. The keyboard seems tiny, there's no mouse (well, I have one but I rarely connect it) so I have to use the touchpad, and I seem to do more typos on this than I do on the desktop.

Time for bed. Tomorrow is a golf day.

The Town Too Fixated on One Gunfight

I am, of course, at a loss for words. This is not an unusual state for me, I find myself in it often enough. But today is a bad one. You see, I am sitting here trying to summon up some interesting anecdote or wondrous piece of adventure to capture the essence of the day.

I can only think of one... Boredom. Yes, the 4th day on the road is when that particular emotion manifests itself. Especially when it is the second full day of what might be called the lower desert. That isn't the usual name for it, the usual name would be The Great Southwest. But that is a euphemism for totally and utterly boring. There is nothing of any consequence to see, just sand and rocks and sagebrush. As far as the eye can see. And beyond even that.

Having been deprived of our visit to Carlsbad Caverns and Roswell (maybe we'll get better weather on the return trip), and having some time to kill, we decided we'd take a side trip to Tombstone; the town too tough to die as it is called. Well, called by those who want to get you to come there. You have to want to go there. It is 20-something miles off the beaten track (meaning the interstate) and the road to it isn't exactly smooth.

It started life as a mining town; some silver and a little bit of gold, some other minerals when these panned out or the mines got flooded. But it's real claim to fame was Wyatt Earp and Ike Clanton and the infamous Shootout at the OK Corral.

First, let's clear the air and set something straight. There is no real corral. It is more like an alley behind a livery stable. And the shootout was between two rivals for control of the town. Neither side was especially good but the Earps got better press in the end.

The town is basically a nothing little place in the midst of land you wouldn't want to be buried in. Like most towns of its day, it had saloons and gambling. Today, there is no gambling and the saloons are just tourist traps. In fact, the whole town has been turned into one big tourist trap. Still, it draws enough people to give its inhabitants a living, I suppose. There is a stage coach that rides around the town while its passengers are treated to a recorded tour speech. There is a trolley that does much the same (why a trolley, I have no idea). There are two mine tours and a couple of museums (which are really shops with not all that cheap old west style merchandise for sale), and a book store (full of books on the frontier west) or two.

We spent a little under two hours there, most of which was spent waiting for some mediocre food in Big Nose Kate's Saloon. The town seems to think that Kurt Russel's movie version of Wyatt's big day at the OK Corral since that DVD was for sale all over and was being shown on the TV in Big Nose Kate's.

Not a great adventure... But it was a break in an otherwise completely non-descript day.

Fun in the High Desert

Tuesday's journey might have been dull... except for the snow flurries, ice, slush, and freezing temperatures in the Texas desert west of San Antonio, not far west either. And that wouldn't have been bad except that the semi's tended to throw up a spray of the slush which coated the windshield and defied any wiper action. Passing a semi, or even a car, was a challenge. Faye may never recover.

If you look at this picture, you may be able to see the ice buildup on the right. Faye took this through the windshield. You may have to click on it to blow it up first.

There was light layer of snow on the desert. Well, it is high desert so I suppose it happens from time to time but we weren't expecting it. We didn't escape it until we came to about 50 miles east of El Paso. We had stopped for a bite and some coffee in Ozona, Texas and the snow started coming down heavily. I'd have taken a picture of the snow covered car but I really wasn't dressed for the weather and just wanted to get out of there.

The snow and bad weather put a damper on our plans to head over to Carlsbad, NM, to see the caverns. We figured it would be rough driving up into the hills there. So we decided to put it off for the return trip. We are planning on going to Tombstone, AZ today. Do the touristy bit there. It'll still be chilly but at least no snow.

Chilly is a mild term for this. I am not used to temps in the 30s.