TWC is the wine swilling mayor of Two Guns Arizona who was formerly a prolific wine blogger. Some of that remains and to get right to the wine reviews without further distraction, click The Wine Commonsewer Speaks. The rest of the enchilada is an eclectic mix of commentary on culture, food, tax, and econ 101.
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Wishing my Jewish friends all the very best of their new year celebration, Rosh Hashanah, which began at sunset last night.
There were untold numbers of heroes of the Big War, most of whom are unknown and whose stories remain untold. Knud Christiansen was a Danish Olympic Athlete and had competed in the 1936 Olympics in Berlin. He was also a member of the Danish resistance in 1943.
He was among the first to learn of the SS plans to arrest the Jews in one convenient mass roundup. It was planned on Rosh Hashanah, at 10 p.m. on Oct. 1 in 1943, an evening Denmark's 7,000 Jews were expected at home, almost all of whom lived in Copenhagen.
This is his story and the re-telling is a terrific way to commemorate the Jewish New Year.
Had breakfast with Mrs TWC at Mimi's before whisking her off to Orange County's John Wayne Airport.
LAX could take some lessons here, starting with John Wayne's dedicated offramp lane from the 55 that drops in and loops around to the front of terminal row. No muss. No. fuss. No stop lights. Same deal on the way out. You want the 405? Right this way. Wham. Bam. Thankee Ma'am. Were done.
In contrast, the dummies in LA, with the help of the state and the feds, built a multi-billion dollar freeway (the 105) that doesn't go anywhere. Instead of routing it along Century Blvd and into the airport terminal, the freeway abruptly ends in El Segundo, dumping LAX bound traffic into the suffocating gridlock on Sepulveda Blvd, a mile from the airport.
The smugly self-satisfied politicians and bureaucrats, who want to shove you into mass transit while they tool around town in a limo, signed off on the light rail project down the 105 median. Just like the freeway, that slick lookin' train doesn't go anywhere, neither. You can't take the train to the airport because it doesn't go there. WTH? You can't take it to the beach, neither. Close. But no Cohiba. Worse: the train doesn't come from anywhere you're at, it just sort of begins at the 605 Freeway. But, it's cool. Like the Monorail at Diz. And, Boy Howdy! Dam thing runs down the center of the freeway. That's the important thing.
Most of America will recognize the 105 from the Sandra Bullock movie, Speed, which was filmed just before the freeway opened in 1994, a quarter century after many of the homes along the route were condemned.
TWC can clearly remember the erie deserted streets, lined with forlorn windowless houses and long-dead lawns. Except for the plywood sheets screwed to the doorframes, the scene could have been drawn from a post-apoclyptic Stephen King novel.
And if all that wasn't bad enough, they bulldozed the Beach Boys home where it all began.
It will be a hectic Sweet Sixteenth for my Renaissance Girl. We're in the throes of a heat wave and the triple digit temps have bumped her two hours of cross country practice from after school to early evening. Unfortunately, that won't change the homework allotment, she'll just start later. I'll sit with her at the desk while she works. I can't help her with chemistry, but I can sip a little wine and keep her company. For whatever that might be worth.
The girl can run a 5.5 minute mile and she's carrying a 4.5 GPA in college level advanced placement courses. She's funny, good with a camera, a .357, and she can wakeboard. She'll get her license on Thursday and that will be the last morning I drive her to school.
Noticed the smoke about 10:30 this morning. The fire looks to be between Black Star Canyon and Main Divide Road. I imagine the afternoon sea breeze will push it over the ridge toward South Corona. No sign of air tanker support as of yet.
I doubt this was an arson burn, there's nothing much in that area except the occasional off-roader. Couple 100 degree heat with bone dry, late summer chaparral, then throw in some ongoing drought condition, and you've got a recipe for a flash fire.
It was foggy and 60 degrees when I wandered out to the hills with the dogs for my morning constitutional. That's one reason why I was able to find Jimsom Weed in bloom. Generally it blooms at night and the fragrant blossoms wither and close in the hot sun. Also known as Sacred Datura and Indian Whiskey, Jimsom Weed is a hallucinogen and is also poisonous to most mammals.
And, Boy Howdy, finding this lying in the dirt put a big, Texas smile on my face. Even better than finding money in the dryer.
One of several dirt roads that TWC walks with the dogs wanders next to a seasonal creek bottom for a while before it meanders east to a low ridge that marks the edge of the plateau where oranges used to grow. I don't enjoy it as much anymore because the area has taken on the ambiance of the county dump. I mean landfill. I'm grumpy enough without the additional visual input provided by piles of chit. I absolutely support public hanging of those who dump their chit on other people's property.
The water table has apparently dropped and the trees can no longer tap into life sustaining water. This is the creek bottom today:
This is what the same stretch of creek bottom looked like ten years ago:
We're all under mandate to reduce water consumption 20% by 2020. Although my water district publicly scoffed at the concept of tiered water pricing a few years ago, the severity of the drought has forced it to reconsider. I know it is anecdotal evidence, but it has been effective. As the marginal cost of the last gallon of water has increased exponentially, I've noticed that several of my neighbors have let their expansive lawns die out this summer. The Walkin' Man said it cost him $500.00 a month last summer to keep his two acres of turf green. Not no moh, though.
Me? I've never had a lawn here at Casa de Las Rocas Grandes. The water district considers me to be a relatively frugal water user, though the monthly water bill belies that claim. But, the base rate is $75.00 before a single drop of water flows into my kitchen sink, which tends to ratchet the total bill upward pretty quickly.
I recently cut off the drip to a couple of peach trees that inexplicably quit bearing fruit. Ditto an old apple tree. We irrigate mostly with drip and gray water. If I wash my truck in the driveway, that water takes care of a couple of trees. Doin' my part, I guess.
