October 2007 Archives

Yesterday was the annual Juvenile Diabetes Walk to Cure Diabetes. I am thrilled to be able to 'shill' on their behalf for another year.

C'mon - shill is what I do. Maybe they like me as a person, but I'm there because I can use my bosses TV station to help promote the event. Fair trade. I'm ecstatic it's mine to give away.

Originally, we had planned to go live on our Sunday morning news show. I woke up at 4:30 AM, called the station, and found out some breaking news (serious news) had bumped us from the show.

I tried to go back to sleep, but it was futile. I would pay for that later in the day.

The JDRF Walk is a very rewarding event, because over time I have really learned the truth about Type 1 diabetes. So many of the stories from parents are horror stories. So many discovered their child had diabetes during an unexpected, serious episode as the child went into diabetic shock... only the parent had no inkling what was going on.

Imagine you're in a hospital with your very sick child and a strange doctor is explaining the life sentence your family has just received. It's every parent's nightmare, and it does affect the entire family.

From appearances, these children are totally normal. But, of course, they're not. Diabetes will shorten their life and cramp their lifestyle.

Even with insulin and attention to dietary restrictions, a diabetic child will live at least a decade shorter life than a non-diabetic. And there is the increased risk for blindness, kidney failure, even amputations.

It's horrific - made worse because it's often attached to sweet young faces.

How could I not help? Once you understand, you can't help but be hooked.

One of the cooler parts of the walk is the large number of people who bring their dogs with them! They're every shape and size and color. Usually they're dogs with good dispositions. Is that ever important because we had thousands there.

I look forward to next years walk, but more so, I look forward to the first year I can sleep in, because the walk is no longer necessary.

Wouldn't it be cool if one of the dollars we raised was the one that paid for the research that actually cured diabetes? It will happen sooner, rather than later.

I've got a new phone. Helaine's got a new phone. Stef's got a phone, but it's currently on a UPS truck somewhere between here and college.

I'm not sure this was the most difficult decision I've ever made, but it was pretty close. That's ridiculous, because a cell phone decision should be easy... or at the very least, easier. I think the cell phone companies make sure it's as difficult as possible to compare plans.

They're willing to compete. They just don't want to compete on price.

Yes, my new phone is a toy, but I wanted a PDA type phone. You know the type. It's got a full QWERTY keyboard and 320x240 pixel screen. I have no business reason for getting one. I still wanted it.

Originally, I had my heart set on a Motorola Q9, a sharp new phone. It was supposed to be out in August, then September, then.... well, it's not out yet. In the meantime, my Motorola RAZR died (though it has since mysteriously come back to life), rushing the process along.

I finally decided on a Samsung Blackjack. It's bigger than today's standard cellphones, but it still fits in my shirt pocket. It is a phone, camera, camcorder, audio recorder, computer. It's probably got more going for it that I haven't figure out yet.

More on the phone in a minute. First, the process of getting it.

As it stands now, there's no way to buy a cell phone and know you've gotten the best deal. Seriously. I wanted to stick with AT&T, but they have different prices on the Internet, in their retail stores and from their independent online dealers. And, of course, few of those prices are obtainable.

One online retailer showed my Blackjack earning me $60, on a new contract. Yup, buy a phone and get $60 back.

Hey, that's for me. My old AT&T contract expired in August. But when I called to get the price, I was told it wasn't for me.

As a good AT&T customer, I wasn't eligible for their best price. That was only for switchers. The price for me would be $250 more per phone! I will maintain a bad taste from that for a while and though it was the independent telling me... I'll blame AT&T, the enabler.

On top of that, AT&T sells the exact same Internet access for a variety of prices. If you've got an iPhone, you really get jobbed. There's also a different price for Blackberries, phones like my Blackjack and standard phones, like my old RAZR.

It's all the same access. It's all unlimited access. They're just differently priced.

A blog reading friend, Pat (who once worked selling cell phones), was incredibly helpful, setting me up with Rob at the AT&T store in Meriden. Rob did what he could, but it still cost me $160 more per phone than that online teaser ad led me to believe.

Rob was the calming influence in all of this. Of all the people I dealt with, he's the only one who could say the sky was blue without me being tempted to look up and make sure.

This is one very cool phone - though being a phone is only a small part of what it does. I've already been online, downloading programs to better web surf, deal with email and upload photos and video.

The video and still image quality is surprisingly good, considering the tiny lens. It's not going to unseat "Clicky," but I will be using this functionality. In fact, on our upcoming vacation, I'm planning on doing a little vlogging from the Blackjack.

The phone connects to the Internet on AT&T's high speed 3G network (available here at work, but not at home). It's still not like real broadband, but it's not too bad. Of course the relatively small screen is not well suited for web browsing.

If you've never used one of these, you've probably looked and said, "those keys are awfully small." They are. Still, I haven't had any trouble with the keys. Where my big fingers do cause trouble is with the center navigation switch. For me, it's very difficult to press it, without pressing what's next to it.

Some of my trouble is caused by being left handed. There's a navigation wheel located perfectly for right handed people, but not me. I will learn to use it with time, as lefties learn to use right handed computer mice.

It didn't take more than a few minutes to start to realize the power this phone possesses. I understand even more why the phone companies are fighting network neutrality. This phone allows you to bypass the cell carriers on many things they want to sell.

For instance, there's a service sold by some carriers for around $10 a month. It turns your phone into a pretty cool GPS receiver with live traffic reports. Google gives that functionality away for free! It's tough to sell against free. As far as I can tell, I'm about $40 away from using Google and my phone as a GPS receiver.

I'm curious to hear Stef's impressions when after she unpacks her phone. I hope she's as pleased as I am... and I've only scratched the surface.

Last night, in the middle of the night, I plugged a cable from my new cellphone into my laptop. An experiment was underway.

Since the phone is on the Internet, it's possible to tether it to my laptop and use the cell connection as an Internet connection. In essence, the Samsung Blackjack would be my modem.

It was very simple and it worked, but it was ploddingly slow. Though the phone works with AT&T's high speed 3G network, there's no 3G service here. I ran a speed test and found 76 kbps. My cable modem speed a moment ago was 7,275 kbps, nearly one hundred times as fast.

At least I know it works in case of an outage.

There's something else I thought of at the same time. Back in the dial-up days, when modems were 28.8 kbps, I used to connect at 24.4 kbps.

As slow as last night's experiment was, it was still three times faster than the Internet service I used to be happy with. Times have really changed.

What we have now for connection speed is only a stop, not the destination.

I spent most of last night moving phone numbers between my old Motorola RAZR and the my new Samsung Blackjack and between Helaine's old phone and her new Motorola RAZR.

You've probably heard that your contacts can be electronically moved from phone-to-phone. Sure, but only in theory. In the real world it was pencil and paper and hundreds of characters on tiny keys. I have around 120 entries in my 'book,' many with multiple numbers.

About halfway through, all I could think of was, "You'll never be able to move that thumb again." I'm assuming emergency rooms are filled with new smartphone owners who get carried away. It's easy to overdo it.

I learned a few things while entering all those numbers and letters. I have three entries for people named Harold, but only two Johns (plus a Jon). I have more cell numbers entered than home or business numbers. I also have lots of entries where someone's area code no longer matches their actual physical location.

We've reached the end of the line for plugged in phones - what is referred to in the telco biz as POTS, for plain old telephone service. I can't imagine why Stef, for instance, will ever have one.

The concept of area code is dissolving as well. Why change your number when you move? That meant something back when long distance was costly. Now, in this cellphone world, long distance calling is often included at no additional charge. Even when you're paying, it's only pennies.

It also means 212 isn't necessarily going to New York City.

It used to be, a phone number couldn't have a 0 or 1 as the second digit. No more. The same goes for 0 or 1 as the middle digit in area codes, which were once required. 561 should not be an area code!

How long has it been? It still looks wrong to me every time. Even my cellphone number, beginning with 710, just looks wrong.

I am lost without the phone book in my cell phone. My mom still has a worn address book she's used for years. Extra pieces of paper have been shoved in where the allocated space for individual letters has been filled. Mine's electronic with less finite restrictions!

If you die, you live on forever in my mom's book. Not so when you're digital bits being carried in my pocket.

For years, the most powerful and organized people were known by the Rolodex they kept. Past tense on that too.

All of this effort with the new phone was to prepare it for the trip we take early tomorrow morning. It's ready. I am too.

Our plane leaves at 7:00 AM. Most likely, my next post will be from somewhere in the Desert Southwest. They'd damn well better have cell service!

The security line at the airport was the longest I've ever seen. It went all the way through the terminal. Thankfully, it moved quickly and we'll be on time.

We did feel a little fear of missing the flight.

(revised to add 'security')

I am writing tonight, sitting in front of our hotel room, in Palm Springs, CA. The swimming pool is ten feet ahead. On the other side of the pool a group of people are sitting, chatting, around a small gas powered fire pit.

Back home, there's a dense fog advisory. Here, the stars are blazing.

Wow, it's nice. But first, our trip.

You don't get to Palm Springs by dark without leaving Connecticut before dawn. Helaine's alarm was set for 2:00 AM. We pulled out of the driveway around 4:30 AM.

We've planned stays in both Palm Springs and Las Vegas, so we flew to Vegas first, rented a car and drove the nearly 300 miles to the Springs.

The fight itself was uneventful. Much of the Eastern United States was partly cloudy with a distinct haze that dulled the view from 36,000 feet. It was as if the Midwest had been rendered slightly out-of-focus.

Before takeoff, and a few more times during the flight, the pilot told us it as very windy in Las Vegas... and it was.

We made a very steep descent into McCarren Airport, probably to avoid the turbulence until the last minute or two. As I looked out the window, the right wing vibrated up and down like a guitar string after it had been plucked.

By the time we were rolling on the runway, the passengers had broken into a round of applause. I've always wondered if they can hear that in the cockpit?

The Las Vegas airport has a brand new rental car facility, a little farther from the terminal than were the cars were before, but containing all the rental agencies under one roof. Helaine found a great deal on the car, and since I had a "Dollar Express" card (though I hardly ever rent cars), we headed downstairs and were in our red Dodge Charger with Nevada plates in about ten minutes.

It's strange to arrive in Las Vegas and immediately turn south, away from the Strip, but we did. I-15, the highway between Las Vegas and Los Angeles, was loaded with cars as we left the city behind and were soon in what's surely some of the ugliest territory in the united States.

The speed limit on I-15 is 70 mph, but I assumed I'd be doing 85-90 mph. Not with this traffic. I settled back in the pack and held on tight as the strong winds pushed the Charger back and forth in my lane (and sometimes out of it).

Our plan was to stop in Baker, CA, right at the edge of the Mojave Desert and not far from Death Valley, at The Made Greek Cafe. It's a place LA-LV commuters have always known about, now made famous after a piece on Food Network.

The Mad Greek is about as tacky as you can get, but my souvlaki was pretty good and the strawberry shake was to die for.

There's not much in Baker, other than the Greek's. The main drag runs parallel to I-15. Down the block is the World's Tallest Thermometer!

Back in the sixties, a radio preacher named Curtis Springer put Baker on the map. His headquarters were at Zzyzx Springs, but his mailing address was Box B, Baker, California.

From Baker, we headed through the desert to Barstow and then Victorville, where there's both a Roy Rodgers and Dale Evans Drive!

We slowed down entering the Cajon Pass, a steeply descending and curving stretch of highway that gives truckers fits and made Helaine a little uneasy too.

On the radio, we'd heard about a small plane crashing in the center median of I-15 and sure enough, like some trophy deer head, the tail section (along with the last few digits of the plane's registration number) sat on the edge of the breakdown lane, slowing traffic as everyone took a look.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. We got a bottle of water in Loma Linda as we continued on I-215. By San Bernadino, the flora had changed. It began to look like Southern California with tall palms spotted across the landscape. The ugly desert had turned into the pretty desert.

We took the ramp onto I-10, saw the beginning of the huge windmill farm that straddles the opening of the Coachella Valley, exited onto California 111 and pulled into Palm Springs by late afternoon.

I'll write more about this hotel, the Desert Riviera, in a few days. Least it to say, for Helaine and me, this is quite a departure. The hotel is a very small property - only ten rooms built around a swimming pool.

It is run by a husband and wife and their sister. It has been lovingly restored to 50s retro chic.

The only downside right now is a problem shared by all the hotels in the Springs. There's a motorcycle convention in town! I believe it's a "I used to be wild, but now I ride on weekends because I'm a grownup," group and not Hells Angels and Mongols.

On the other hand, every few minutes a throaty and noisy Harley rumbles it's way down Palm Canyon. I'm tired enough to know I'll sleep through it.

As we were leaving the hotel this morning, Helaine asked if I had written about Elvis? I had not, so here it is.

Freaky alert!

We were riding in the car, on the way to Bradley. Our 7:00 AM flight was heading to Las Vegas, so I jokingly asked Helaine if she had a copy of Viva Las Vegas with her?

No such luck.

I turned on the radio, where we ended up on WDRC-FM. We heard the end of a song, the disk jockey announcing he was leaving, a cluster of commercials and... Elvis! It was Viva Las Vegas.

We turned and looked at each other. This was more than a little weird, but we went with the flow, singing along with the King.

It's three hours earlier here. We went to bed long before our normal time. That set us up to get out early.

Before heading to the car, I took this photo.

Quick question: What's wrong with this picture?

Answer: Nothing.

Judy, here at the Desert Riviera, recommended "Manhattan in the Desert" for breakfast. It's a short drive down Palm Canyon Dr.

As with most structures in Palm Springs the outside of MITD is a subdued Earth tone. That works, because the Sun is so bright in the dry air of the desert. Anything not subdued would just scream out and spoil the good karma.

Helaine had half a stack of blueberry pancakes. I had a full stack and proved, once and for all, I eat at twice the speed she does! I'm not proud of that. It's just a fact.

We headed up South Palm Canyon onto the Agua Caliente Reservation and Indian Canyons. The canyons are a wilderness area with a series of trails. As we've seen in Las Vegas, there are often places reasonably untouched by humans, very close at hand.

Helaine remains adverse to twisting roads through mountainous areas. We headed up the twisting road through a mountainous area and into the parking lot. Awesome view. It seemed like the entire Coachella Valley was visible.

We took two relatively easy trails down into the canyons. It's been a while since it rained, but there was a tiny trickle of running water in what I assume is a natural spring.

Palm trees sprouted near the feeble flow. If the dictionary is to be believed, this is an oasis. Cool.

We walked around, marveled at the scenery and headed home. There was one last stop before leaving. At one point, the canyon road narrows to one lane as it passes through a split rock. Honestly, as I first approached, I didn't think the car would squeeze through!

The desert is beautiful. It really is.

There are a few things we knew we'd be doing on this vacation before we left Connecticut. We came with tickets to see Rick Springfield in concert at the Spotlight 29 Casino in Coachella.

Google directions in hand, we set out across town, past the airport, Kirk Douglas and Bob Hope Roads, then east on the Interstate. We were heading toward Indio, though the highway continues to Phoenix and then all the way to Jacksonville, FL.

That reminds me - Here in Palm Springs they've got streets named after Frank Sinatra, Dinah Shore, and other show business luminaries. I'm not sure how that compares with New Haven's Whitney, Goffe and Whalley, though my suspicion is, on this one New Haven wins.

We expected Spotlight 29 to be a little skeevy. Not so. I'm not saying this is Mirage or Mohegan Sun, but it was a passable 'locals' casino. I poked my nose into the poker room and saw three tables in use. You can gamble at 18 here, but these were grownups.

We went to the restaurant. My hamburger was pretty good and the meal uneventful... until I walked out to meet up with a friend of Helaine's and forgot to pay the check!

I had it in my hand, as I walked across the casino floor. I guess I would have gotten away with it had I not looked down, let out a little shriek and run back to the restaurant.

Dinner was cheap - around $16. I wouldn't normally mention that, except that's what I won on a slot machine. Free meal. Thanks Spotlight 21.

We headed into the theater for the show. I was impressed. It was a nice room with a large stage. There was no curtain, so we watched the last minute on stage preps as we took our seat in the center of the first row.

Oh... yeah... one more story. I was there as Helaine purchased the tickets online, though it's still tough to believe. They went on sale one morning at 10:00:00AM and Helaine bought our two at 10:00:05 AM.

They were truly the best seats in the house. I was surprised they hadn't been held for the casino's use.

Rick Springfield took the stage around 8:15. This was my fourth time seeing him, though not all the others were complete shows. Helaine has run out of the necessary fingers and toes to count her attendance.

As you might expect, the audience was heavily female and mostly old enough to remember his first trip through General Hospital. Lots of them were hard core fans who attend his concerts on a regular basis.

What most people don't realize is, Rick Springfield is a real rocker. Honest. Sure, my wife would want me to say that, but it's still true. There's really no way you'd know without seeing him perform.

The guitar work is much more energetic and rough edged than you'd expect and I don't remember any ballads. This is not a pop show from a pop artist.

Before General Hospital, Rick Springfield was a musician. He had a minor hit that I played on the radio: "Speak to the Sky." That was long before GH and Jessie's Girl.

As the band opened, playing "Who Killed Rock and Roll," the audience came alive. As it turns out, the regulars are a bonus to those who are casually coming to see that "Jessie's Girl guy." They're already sold on the fact they're going to have a good time - so that's what they do. In an audience, a good time is contagious.

The concert continued and I snapped pictures. It's a Fox Family tradition, passed from mother to daughter and now father. Being in the first row helped, but there were other interesting picture taking opportunities as he went deep into the audience.

Both Stefanie and Helaine have taken some great photos at Springfield concerts. I wanted my turn. Though I know more about the camera, their advantage is being able to predict his moves.

I have some good shots, but I know when I've met my match.

Helaine had a great time and so did I. Part of my enjoyment was turning around and just watching the crowd. To me, that was part of the show. Some of these women were quite emotionally involved with what was going on on stage.

We're back at the hotel now. Helaine's gone to bed. I'm near the pool with my feet up on the brick ledge of the gas fire pit. I see tall, thin palm trees in every direction. They tower over the mostly one story buildings in this older neighborhood.

It's a little chilly tonight, but my feet are warm.

I'm back out by the fire pit, writing the blog in the almost chilly late evening air. Palm Springs has been very cool, at least by their standards.

WEATHER ITEM   OBSERVED TIME   RECORD YEAR NORMAL DEPARTURE LAST     
                 VALUE   (LST)  VALUE       VALUE  FROM      YEAR     
                                                   NORMAL             
 ..................................................................
 TEMPERATURE (F)                                                     
  TODAY                                                               
   MAXIMUM         82    258 PM 111    1996  95    -13       86       
   MINIMUM         65    550 AM  38    1932  64      1       55       
   AVERAGE         74                        79     -5       71      
                                                                      
 PRECIPITATION (IN)                                                   
   TODAY            0.00          0.00 2002   0.01  -0.01     0.00    
                                       2001                          
                                       1998                          
   MONTH TO DATE    0.00                      0.07  -0.07     0.00    
   SINCE JUL 1      0.12                      1.05  -0.93     0.40    
   SINCE JAN 1      0.19                      4.29  -4.10     1.71    

That's 13° below average and only .2" rain since January 1!

Toward sunset tonight, there were a very few thin cirrus patches. It's likely the official observation read: clear. In any event, they're the first clouds we've seen.

Among the reasons for our trip, to see if we'd like to live here some day - maybe for retirement. Florida is very nice, but very humid and buggy. The desert is neither, but of course, blast oven hot for much of the summer.

A friend recommended a real estate agent and we spent the afternoon with her.

I was apprehensive at first. I can't imagine Helaine was any more confident going in. But, it was a very good experience and I think we have a better understanding of what we can and can't do. And, it looks like what we can do is what we'd like to do.

This valley seems to have nothing but rapid growth. There's construction everywhere, both residential and business.

We got back to the hotel. By this time, having skipped breakfast, Helaine was starved. I asked Larry, who owns the place, where we should eat and he suggested Al Dente, downtown.

It was a five minute drive and there was parking out front. It is not like this in the season. October is still a slow time in Palm Springs.

We sat outside for dinner, right on North Palm Canyon Drive. There were still a few motorcyclists left from this weekend's convention and they made a throaty gargling sound as they drove by.

Helaine had a pasta dish with fresh tomatoes. I ordered celery soup, thickened with potatoes and the stuffed chicken special. The soup was excellent and the chicken was very good and really moist. The service was attentive. What's not to like?

This is a city built on tourism and people in the hospitality industry here understand that.

We're really having a very nice time, but we'll only be here until Tuesday morning before heading back to Las Vegas. This time we have to stop in Baker, CA to get some Alien Jerky!

At some point I'm going to have to tell you a little more about this hotel and the people who run it. It too is one of the pleasantly surprising pieces of our journey.

Not tonight. I'm turning off the fire (it's gas) and going inside.

We had accomplished everything we set out to do in Palm Springs. And yet, we had one more full day. What to do?

I asked Larry in the hotel office. He's done well suggesting two restaurants over the weekend. He did it again today, recommending Joshua Tree National Park.

We headed east on I-10. Once we passed Indio, the palm trees stopped and the desert became more scrubby and ugly. Joshua Tree was another 25 miles away.

I got off the freeway in Cottonwood, turned north and headed into the park.

Most national parks have a gate you go through... in essence a toll booth where the daily fee is collected ($15 per car). Not here. A friendly sign at the ranger station asked you to turn in and register.

The ranger asked me a few questions and then she proceeded to mark a map with sites appropriate for Helaine and me. Light hiking - OK. Scary heights - nope. Photo ops - please!

First stop was a stand of chollo cactus. These are particularly nasty plants, if you get near them. They pierce the skin easily and hurt like crazy. They're called teddy bear cactus by some, "But don't hug them," the ranger had warned.

The chollo grow in a very compact stand. Where they grow, there are hundreds, but the area they inhabit ends sharply.

The rangers have created a path through the chollo. Lots of photo opportunities for me and an excellent chance to see this species up close for everyone. This was the prettiest part of the park.

Joshua Tree is nowhere near the prettiest park I've been in. I still wouldn't have turned down the opportunity. It features broad valleys and meadows marked with the scrubby vegetation most of America's deserts feature. The valleys are surrounded by mountains and often rocky outcroppings.

Of course there are also stands of Joshua Trees. From a distance, they resemble tree we might have in the northeast, but up close it's instantly obvious they're built for the desert. They grow 30-40 feet tall and can live a few hundred years.

Originally, I was going to drive in the southern park entrance, explore, then turn around and head home. The ranger suggested otherwise. We drove all the way through the park from south to north.

A few miles from the exit, I stopped to photograph some interesting rocks. It wasn't until I really looked closely that I realized a man and woman were rappelling the rock face!

I moved close enough to hear him shout instructions down to her. Maybe she was his student? This was an interesting place for a classroom and scary enough for Helaine to look away.

If you're one of the rappellers and somehow find your way here, drop me a line. I'd be thrilled to send you the higher quality original files I have.

We exited the park in the town of Joshua Tree, CA. Without the National Park Service to protect it, the land was speckled with buildings and other artifacts of 21^st Century life. It was not pretty at all.

We turned west, headed into Yucca Valley and then down a long steeply descending road into the Morongo Valley. Before long we were back here in Palm Springs.

As a kid, national parks were totally foreign to me. Even if given the chance, I probably would have said no. It takes a certain personal seasoning (in other words, age) to go somewhere and just enjoy those things that make it different and distinct.

That's what we did today.

Joshua Tree isn't my favorite national park, but it was well worth our time this beautiful early fall afternoon.

"Take some snacks." Those three words best summarize what this little hotel, the Desert Riviera," is all about. They were spoken by Larry, the owner, as Helaine and I were about to leave for Joshua Tree. He was offering bags of pretzels, chips and cookies.

This is a definite departure for us. Helaine and I try to stay in well known national chains when we're on the road. Not so this time. The Desert Riviera is an independent boutique hotel.

We looked at TripAdvisor, where the first Palm Springs listing was for this hotel. Not bad, since order is dependent on member rating.

The comments associated with the hotel fit within two categories: "I love this place" and "There are too many good reviews without any bad - it can't be true. Beware!"

The reviews are true. This place is a gem. I can't think of anything bad to say... OK, a few little things, but so tiny as to be inconsequential.

The Desert Riviera is a ten room hotel run by Larry, his wife Patty, and his sister Judy. As he tells it:

Our room is modern with accents that scream 1950s. It's dominated by a king sized bed. On the wall is a large flat panel TV. Off to the side are a bathroom with stall shower and stoveless kitchen. Our room... in fact each of the ten rooms borders the pool.

Every time I walk out of the room, I see what's in this photo. It's like I'm in a private residence or club. There's the pool with stark desert mountains as the backdrop.

There are chaises - certainly more than there are guests. Around the clock, each chaise has a pool towel folded over its reclining head. The pool (currently an amazing 88°) is lit and open around the clock.

Adjacent to the pool is the fire pit I've written about before (and where I'm sitting now, writing) and a hot tub. There are also a few round tables with umbrellas to block the harsh desert sun.

Limo transportation is provided for free, both to the airport and into town. There are also a few bikes (including a bicycle built for two) in front of the office.

Either Larry or Judy is always here. They run the place as if it's their reputation on the line. Of course, it is.

Yesterday, Helaine pointed out there are no telephones in the rooms. They're really not necessary anymore, are they? I can't think of any adult who doesn't travel with a phone in his pocket. Anyway, the office is only a few steps away.

As if to make up for it, there's a cordless phone in the vestibule leading into the office. It's available to guests for making free calls around-the-world.

There is no way a chain hotel or even larger independent could be as accommodating as Larry and Judy are. With ten rooms, they really do know our names.

So, what's the downside? The hotel is pretty close to a main road, so you do hear the traffic a little. It was worse when the motorcycles were in town, but I'm guessing that was universal within Palm Springs. I also found the water temperature in the shower fluctuated a lot (though the pressure is great and the towels are large and fluffy).

This was a very positive experience for us. I would definitely come back. It's also encouragement to find this kind of place when we travel elsewhere... if this kind of place actually exists elsewhere!

I'm writing now from Las Vegas and the MGM Grand Hotel. I have found, over time, my blog entries slow down when I'm in Vegas. I'm not in the room as much and there's not much to talk about when I'm mainly playing cards (though we will be seeing some shows and visiting places I'll want to tell you about).

I'm currently up, but a McDonalds employee makes more per hour!

It was sad leaving Palm Springs. I know I can speak for Helaine when I saw, we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. The hotel was great. The city was great. The experience was everything we wanted and more. I even had a great time at the Rick Springfield concert.

We left Palm Springs around 9:00 AM and headed west in the slightly circuitous route necessary to get to Las Vegas. Traffic was moderate, but mostly moving at or above the speed limit.

We weaved through San Bernardino¹, then to Victorville and Barstow. Now we were in the middle of nowhere and the speed ramped up to 80-85 mph, as the drivers took it on their own to improvise what the speed limit should be.

Most people from the east think of desert and think of the vast trackless sand of North Africa. Most of the US Desert Southwest isn't like that at all. There is vegetation, mostly in the form of scrawny, low to the Earth brush.

We didn't eat before leaving Palm Springs, which opened us up for a quick lunch at "Peggy Sue's 50 s Diner" in Yermo. Yermo is a town of around 2,000, adjacent to Ft. Irwin.

The food was fine, but Peggy Sue's needs a little updating and freshening. Much of the diner looks like it hasn't be refurbished since the 50s!

We continued east on I-15 (it's really a north-south road, so we were officially going north), stopping again in Baker. Our destination was Alien Fresh Jerky!

Here's a place that's successful because of its catchy positioning. After all, you can get jerky anywhere, but how many places have Alien Fresh Jerky?

Baker to Las Vegas is only a hundred miles or so - next door in terms of the desert. We were at the MGM and in our room by early afternoon.

By mid afternoon we had found my Cousin Melissa, gone to Wynn (up the Strip), had dinner and deposited me a the poker table.

If that's not a full day, what is?

¹ - San Bernardino is the county seat for San Bernardino County, which is larger in area than the states of Massachusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island, and Delaware combined. It is the largest county in the United States.

I am having trouble getting on my site. Doing this on the phone.

More later. Typing like this is hell.

I wish I knew what was going on with my website. yesterday I couldn't get in. Today, my friend Rick (in Connecticut) is shut out!

I just don't want to spend time troubleshooting while I'm on the road. Can you blame me?

I did want to post a few videos. These aren't particularly good (in fact they're pretty awful), but if you've never been to Vegas, they may give you a little feel.

Here's a daylight drive south, down the Strip.

Here is a slot machine tournament at the MGM Grand. The machines are set to run on time, and all the participants do is move their hands up and down.

I took this one holding my cellphone out the window as I drove down Las Vegas Blvd. at night

Finally, I took this one at the Pinball Hall of Fame. My Cousin Max, age 9, had never seen or played with a real pinball machine before!

Yes, Las Vegas is gambling and food, but it's also shows - often great shows. We saw one tonight with Cirque du Soleil's Love at Mirage, just up the Strip.

Helaine and I went with my Cousin Michael, his wife Melissa and their son Max.

As with all Cirque du Soleil shows, this one is very physical. The most obvious point that sets it apart from the others is the music. It's all Beatles songs, remixed (and in many cases, reconfigured) by George Martin. As far as I know, this is the first time the Beatles original recordings have been featured in a non-Beatles performance.

If there's a story to Love that ties in with the music, I didn't get it.

Love is performed in the same space that once held Seigfreid and Roy. The theater has been rebuilt, putting the stage... or more appropriately stages, in the center, with the audience surrounding them.

As soon as we sat down, I knew we had really great seats. But this is a theater with many, many great seats.

The lights dimmed and the performance began. Almost immediately, I realized there was so much going on at any one time, I'd have to pick and choose what I would follow and understand I'd miss a lot. And then, as I was mulling this entertainment bonanza over, the stage got ten times busier!

I have never seen a more spectacular opening for an on-stage performance. It is truly indescribable!

Helaine and I have seen all the Vegas Cirque shows but one (Zumanity). This was the best of the lot - a show we'd gladly see again.

Some of the shows are very gymnastic, this was more dance oriented. Yes, there were displays of strength and flexibility, but nothing over-the-top.

I especially enjoyed a portion of the show where two roller skating ramps and four excellent skaters appeared as if out of nowhere. As with so much of this show, sets and performers 'appeared' from above or below eye level. Stages and ropes were constantly moving up and down.

It was over much too soon.

I have burned the candle at both ends. We've hit the road a week ago last Friday. I am bushed. Please, let this not be the screaming baby flight from Vegas. I want to need to sleep.

My sister and brother-in-law arrived in Las Vegas yesterday. This is one of those lucky, versus planned, things. They were scheduled to be here for a convention. In fact, when I asked if they wanted to have lunch today, they were busy selling.

At least we had one meal together. Yesterday, my sister, brother-in-law, and three cousins hit the MGM coffee shop. We were seven, not a common number. We waited over and hour for a table, and that was with a line pass!

Last night, I thought it would be fun if we took our young cousin, Max, downtown. Staying on the Strip, downtown's far away and never seen.

Fremont Street, the main drag downtown, is where all the gaudy signs were in the 40s, 50s and 60s. If you saw Elvis in Vegas, Fremont Street is where he was. It really can't compete with the Strip anymore, so it has positioned itself a little more downscale and affordable.

Fremont Street is where you an get 99¢ shrimp cocktails (Golden Gate Hotel - they're still great) and where $5 blackjack players get rated for comps. The street itself has been closed to traffic, covered with a mesh canopy and loaded with little kiosks and stands.

The atmosphere is comparable to what I'd expect on New Years Eve in Times Square. There are people of every shape, size and color. Families gawk. Pierced, Mohawked wackos gawk. Retirees gawk. They're all together, and though the area seems tawdry, I never felt unsafe.

Cousin Michael made note of the nearly invisible security. We're guessing they're hidden, just seconds away... but that's a hopeful guess and nothing more.

Once an hour, all the outside casino lights dim and thousands of tiny lights on the overhead canopy turn on to project a multimedia show. It's called the Fremont Street Experience.

A few years ago the show was brought up-to-date... which ruined it! A more appropriate, though still modern, show is currently featured.

We were back at our hotel before midnight (which here, on a Saturday night, is something like noon anywhere else).

Our room is sad now. Nearly everything is packed and ready to go. Southwest Airlines has already sent me a text message saying our flight should be running on-time. The weather here and in Connecticut should cooperate.

It's not over until I call the bellman. That's only minutes away.

The gate agent has just come on the PA system to tell us our flight will be delayed at least 45 minutes! As it stands, we weren't due into Bradley International until around 1:00 AM.

I see no screaming kids at the gate. Thanks heavens for small favors.

If you've tried to get to this website over the past few days, you've probably experienced some difficulty. I was going to blame my hosting company, but the fault lies elsewhere.

On the right side of each page of geofffox.com is a plethora of weather data. I can't imagine anyone really uses it, and I should remove it to reduce clutter and load times. Tonight, it bit me on the ass.

A line of php code plucks a list of extreme weather across the country and places it in that column. The list is actually produced on my friend Bob's site, www.coolwx.com. His site, or maybe just this file, is unavailable, so my site sat and patiently waited for this little file... and waited... and waited some more.

This evening, using the free WiFi at Las Vegas McCarren Airport, I edited the code on my site to remove the link. Everything's OK now.

We're on our way home from Las Vegas. I'm typing this from 39,000 feet somewhere over the vast void that is the middle of America.

Helaine obtained a late checkout, so we left the hotel at 2:30, heading first to refill the rental car and then return it to the "Giant Rental Car Building," newly opened south of the airport. All the car rental companies share this facility and the shuttle buses that leave every few minutes. This part of the experience, coming and going, was painless.

Oh - there is one thing. Our car had Sirius Satellite Radio. We discovered that sometime around day five and quite by accident. Since Dollar pays for it, and I wanted to use it, you'd think there would have been a placard or sticker advertising its availability. Even when I hit the right button (by mistake) there was only a hint of what I'd unlocked.

We did get to hear a little Nina Blackwood, Martha Quinn, Mark Goodman and former Philly favorite, Michael Tierson. I always had a thing for Martha.

Sunday afternoon at McCarren Airport is a medley of your favorite lines. We stood in line to get our baggage weighed and tagged. We stood in line for security. Helaine stood in line for food. And, of course, we sat in line to get our choice of seats on the plane.

AMAZING, BUT TRUE STORY ALERT: As we checked in, the agent asked for our heaviest bag first. On the scale it went. Southwest only allows (in my family the word 'only' must be included) 50 pounds per bag. The bag weighed 49.95 pounds! When the agent put the tag on the bag, the weight rose to exactly 50.00 pounds. None of us had ever seen anything like it.

This was probably the last time we'll be sitting on the floor, holding our place in line, in the Southwest terminal. Next month they unveil a new, modified boarding system which will reward those who are anal retentive and get their boarding passes within the first few minutes after they become available. The punctual will then get their choice of the best seats!

From the cockpit, this is the pilot." How many times do you want to hear those words on a flight?

Why ask?

We wanted to sleep. He wanted to speak. "Folks, it's going to be bumpy over the Rockies." "Folks, we're over the Rockies and it's bumpy." "Folks we're passed the Rockies and I'm turning off the seat belt sign."

There were a few more announcements. I forget exactly what they were, except Iowa City was off to the left during one and "we're over Chicago," on the other. The "peddling as fast as we can" line was only funny the first time.

Considering the hour of this flight, I'm surprised the cabin lights were never dimmed. Though, with chatterbox driving, the point was probably moot.

Our flight left Las Vegas 45 minutes late. The plane was there on time, but we waited for connecting passengers from Oakland. Having been on the receiving end of that kind of largess in the past, I didn't mind being on the giving side tonight.

All Southwest flights are in 737s. It's funny how times have changed, because Southwest now uses that as a selling point in its ads. You never fly in a little plane on Southwest. A few years ago, when the domestic carriers used wide bodied jets of many more routes, Southwest's claim would have been laughed off the TV. Now, when the alternative is a 30, 40 or 50 seat regional jet, Southwest has a point.

I have spent much of the last few hours trying to figure out a way to allow fully reclining seats on a 737. Maybe if you remove the overhead bins and create an upper-lower configuration for the seats? There's got to be a way, and whichever airline does it first, wins.

It's 1:00 AM now. We're still in the air. Will there even be baggage handlers when we arrive?

I so want to go to sleep.

During our vacation out west, Helaine threatened to kill me - using my new cellphone as the weapon! OK, maybe I'm a little obsessed.

If you didn't follow my earlier travails, I have moved to a Samsung Blackjack "Smartphone." It's a Swiss Army Knife phone that takes snapshots and video, browses the Internet, retrieves email, chats on IM and SMS... oh, and it's also a phone.

The first thing I did was buy a skin for it. A skin is a hard plastic, form fitting, case. When I drop the phone, and I will drop it, it now has some protection. The skin is a rich deep red, giving the phone a metrosexual look.

The problem/fun presented by a phone like this is how much of it is customizable. I've already downloaded some programs which automatically send my photos to Picasaweb and my videos to Youtube (both automatically flagged as 'private' ). There's also an Instant Messenger client (which routes all my text messages through India).

The real customization is saved for the homescreen. With a little rudimentary programming, it's possible to make the homescreen look almost any way you want and display all sorts of cool (read: nerdy) data.

I'm working on that now, putting Google through a major test as I try and find more and more sites that have inside tidbits. There are lots of fans for this type of phone and many do have websites.

I really like the phone, though it is by no means perfect. The keyboard is incredibly small. My fingers are not. I often hit two keys at once, or move off a page because I've pressed the wrong part of the round navigation control.

Two of the phone's most useful controls are built for right handed people. I'm a lefty.

There more I use the phone, the more I understand why people get hooked on them. Having this additional access to the Internet and messaging is an amazing thing.

When Steffie called me, looking for subway directions from Penn Station to Lincoln Center, I was able to figure it out, even though I was standing in the MGM Grand Poker Room in Las Vegas at the time.

I give it another week or two of obsessive behavior before I'm able to move this phone into the normal rhythm of life. Until then, I'll try and use it when Helaine's not watching.

It's not just me, is it? Finances are confusing to everyone... right?

Oh please agree! I don't want to be the Bozo on this bus¹.

Helaine and I went through some financial papers today. Nothing dreadful, but each was more confusing than the last.

My insurance company sent me a notice saying they weren't paying as much for recent dental work as the policy allows. My dentist is off network and out-of-state.

Uh, yeah. It's Blue Cross/Blue Shield of Rhode Island. I live in Connecticut. Of course it's out-of state!

Here's the funny part. They only said they weren't paying me full reimbursement. In reality, they were. So, based on their paperwork, some clerk in Rhode Island and I got to spend quality time together that we'll never get back.

Then Helaine showed me a statement from my 401-K at work. We've been participating over 20 years. There's a significant amount of money in it now. It said one of the mutual funds we're in went down over the past few months.

It was a time when the market in general was tanking. I saw that with a quick look at the Dow Jones Industrials Average (which I understand is a mainly worthless barometer).

Are we in the right funds? Not only don't I know, no one knows!

The experts often make bad calls predicting the markets (and, hey, I know a little bit about predicting). You can get lucky, or just have time on your side. We used the latter.

Unfortunately, the difference between being right and being wrong, when stretched over 20+ years, can make a huge difference. Could I have clicked a different box two decades ago and now be set for life? I will never know if my decisions were the right ones.

We're trying to get Stef on the right track with her finances. I've just applied for a credit card for her. She'll be responsible, though Helaine and I have to guarantee that by co-signing.

I called my local bank office, spoke to the manager and was on my way... or so I thought. I had to return a call from the bank Monday. They needed to verify it was really me on the phone.

I wasn't asked my birthdate or SSN. The bank's operator said, "In the past you've owned property. I'll give you a list, you tell me which one is right." Then she did basically the same thing with cars I'd owned.

The answer to the car question was a 1992 Camry. "That's 15 years old," I said. "I'm not sure the year's right."

But it was Helaine who made the more cogent observation. "They know everything about us."

Alas, they do. Neither the car nor any piece of property was financed through the bank.

Finally, Helaine showed me a mortgage statement on our house. We've been there 17 years and have refinanced twice. Each time, we tried to shorten the term and lower the interest rate.

We can actually see a day in the next few years when the house will really be ours.

Does anyone really think, when they buy a house, some day they'll own it? I sure didn't.

¹ - Firesign Theater reference. Thanks for noticing.

How's your job? I'm going to bet you don't work at a place like Netflix!

Here is their "8 Great Reasons To Work At Netflix" page.

I am extremely jealous... and I work at a pretty good place.

My friend Farrell, currently winning hearts and minds in Warsaw, Poland, just sent me the news - Joey Bishop is dead.

Bishop was a fixture of late night television in the late 60s, often subbing for Johnny Carson, then hosting his own talk show on ABC (where Regis Philbin got his network start... and nearly his end).

Hosting on the very weak ABC, versus the well established Johnny Carson, Bishop was an immediate underdog. His status as a member of Frank Sinatra's Rat Pack was a small mitigating factor, but in the end not enough.

Originially a standup comic (Comedy Central says he's #96 on the all time 100 best), everything I've heard in the last decade or so said Joey Bishop was a very bitter, angry and not very nice guy. I've got a list of people like that, performers who felt they deserved more success than they got and couldn't get over it. It seems like an awful way to live out your life.

Bishop was know for the phrase, "Son of a gun." It was said in an almost question-like way. Typing the letters doesn't have the same impact as hearing him say them.

Also entering the 'file footage' category yesterday was Teresa Brewer. Her top-40 hits, Ricochet and Music!, Music!, Music!, came too early for me to care about.

She's important in my life, because she was the first 'act' I saw in Las Vegas. It was 1975, I was traveling the west with my friend Bob, and we went to Caesar's Palace to see her open for Rowan and Martin.

The stage was large and full of people. We sat where the maitre'd sat losers and bumpkins - far from the action.

Rowan and Martin were hosting Laugh In at the time. It was one of the hottest shows on TV. They were OK. Teresa Brewer was dynamite.

I'd never seen a show like that before, with a polished performer and big band. This was old school Vegas, still extremely glitzy and moneyed. In the midst of her act, she brought on John Bubbles¹, someone I knew nothing about. When they tap danced, I was blown away.

She was tiny, but her voice was huge. I remember thinking how close her performance was to the original records I'd heard on the radio.

If, before I went, you would have asked if I wanted to see Teresa Brewer, I would have said, "No." I left as a fan.

I'm sorry I never got to meet her to tell her that. A performer can never hear enough praise.

¹ - From Wikipedia: In 1978, John Bubbles spoke at the Variety Arts Theatre in Los Angeles as a participant in a seminar on vaudeville. Someone asked him who the best tap dancer was. Bubbles answered, "You're looking at him."

I have just accepted an invitation to appear on WPLR, November 26^th, our 24^th anniversary... with Helaine.

This will be Helaine's first public appearance ANYWHERE! However, it is I who should be worried. She has enough bonehead stories about me to fill a book... a large book.

I'm a few days behind on this. It is troubling to me.

I play poker on line. For years I played about even. Then my 'luck' changed.

No matter how I honed my skills, I lost more than I won. We're not talking large sums of money, I only play for a few dollars at a time.

I can't tell you how many times I played tough only to be fourth when only three were being paid. Often, I was beaten by an unlikely set of circumstances.

Hey - that's cards. It's a game of skill and luck. At least that's what I thought.

Then this from the New York Times Freakonomics blog: "The Absolute Poker Cheating Scandal Blown Wide Open."

The allegation is, someone was seeing all the cards as he played. It's tough to lose under those circumstances!

This kind of fraud takes place outside the casino. A real inside job could easily be made totally undetectable from the outside.

I don't play on Absolute Poker, but the allegations are still very troubling. I have no idea what's going on with Absolute nor any of the online poker operators who are answerable to no one in the United States.

I wish these operations were legal here, so they could be regulated. Maybe then, I'd have more confidence.

Right now, my confidence is shattered.

There's a buffet restaurant in town we go to three or four times a year. it's fairly high end in its fare - not a total carb outlet. Some of the staff were nice enough to ask for a picture with me, which they then hung near the register.

We haven't been there in months. Tonight, on our way to the movies, we thought we'd stop by.

CLOSED by order the of the Health Department (or something very similar), the weather worn notice affixed to the door read. That's not good. In over twenty years here in Connecticut, I've never seen anything like that before.

Exactly what do you have to do to be shut down, not just warned? Maybe I don't want to know.

I've checked the website of the local health department and there's nothing there. It's one of life's little mysteries... like the food at the buffet.

I am watching the local Los Angeles TV coverage of the Malibu Canyon fire here on my laptop. I have often been critical of local news in Los Angeles. However, today, I have nothing but praise.

The copter and reporter coverage is amazing - especially when you consider each crew is putting themselves in harm's way. These fires can turn on a dime.

The people of Los Angeles are being well served by their local media this afternoon.

Unfortunately, wild fires are a way of life in Southern California. Brush fires where a part of Los Angeles before there was a Los Angeles! There is little you can do to prevent them, though the impact can sometimes be lessened by brush clearance and other techniques.

That being said, homes are built in places that have views to die for... literally.

Working down the street from Yale University must be somewhat like living next door to Jessica Alba. It's easy to see what's so special. You're seldom invited over.

An exception was made Saturday. Dr. Steve Girvin, the Eugene Higgins Professor of Physics and Applied Physics¹, asked me if I'd like to attend the annual Yale Physics Olympics. How could I say no?

Students from high schools in Connecticut and nearby states sent teams to Yale to compete in fun, though intellectually challenging, physics based games.

They built bridges, redesigned electrical circuits and tried to predict movement in a virtual stock market. I'm sorry - did you mention what you did Saturday?

If your local school board ever asks for a new facility to further education, send them to Yale. Sloane Physics Lab, where the competition took place, is an ancient building. The lecture hall we occupied was probably outmoded 50 years ago. It is still a center of exceptional education.

Education is dependent on an open exchange of ideas and knowledge, not furniture.

The kids who gave up their Saturday afternoon are the smart kids. Their intellect probably makes them socially awkward now, but they'll be the one's we're all working for later. Think Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Jeff Bezos and Mark Cuban.

I did a lot of helping out Saturday. I'm not sure they really needed me, but I was thrilled to be a part of the action. I poured liquid nitrogen (somewhere around 325° below zero Fahrenheit) into a Styrofoam vessel for a demonstration on electrical conductivity, rode a bicycle powered by CO₂, and a hovercraft lifted by a very noisy leafblower (as immortalized in the attached youtube video).

As someone who works in TV news, where the easiest way for a teenager to make air is to kill or be killed, this Saturday afternoon was a breath of fresh air.

¹ - My knowledge of academia is limited, but I do know an endowed chair is a big deal... even bigger at Yale. As it turns out, he's a great guy and not at all pretentious about the fact he can think us all under the table.

Helaine got to choose the movie Saturday night. This responsibility used to rotate, but she's so much better than I am at picking - why bother!

We went to North Haven to see the 'sneak preview' of "Dan in Real Life," starring Steve Carell.

Years ago, a sneak preview was really that - a sneak. You didn't know what you were seeing until you got there. Not so now.

By and large movie studios 'sneak' movies they expect will produce strong word-of-mouth. That's a good selling point for seeing a movie none of your friends have seen.

Helaine worried the theater might be sold out, so on my way back from Yale, I stopped in to purchase tickets. It was less than half full. She's better at picking flicks than guessing the gate.

"Dan in Real Life" is an emotional movie. We were primed before it even began. The coming attractions featured a trailer for "The Bucket List," starring Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman.

We both cried like babies!

It was only a two and a half minute trailer. I'm bringing a box of Kleenex if I see the full film!

"Dan in Real Life" is the story of Dan Burns, (Steve Carell) a widower, raising three daughters. Family Affair, Courtship of Eddie's Father, My Three Sons, Andy Griffith, The Rifleman, Bonanza... I've seen widowers and their children before.

It seemed like a plot device in those TV shows. It rang true here.

While at a family reunion in Rhode Island¹, Dan meets Marie (Juliette Binoche). It's a chance meeting at a bookstore, but there's an immediate connection.

They part, only to run into each other again almost immediately. She is Dan's brother's girlfriend, also invited to the family weekend!

This is a story without a lot of surprises. The kids are cute and witty. His parents are level headed and supportive. Dan's life, already in emotional upheaval from the death of his wife, is put on a spit over an open flame and turned.

There is little that doesn't unfold as you expect.

A movie doesn't have to be surprising to be good. Satisfying is enough. "Dan in Real Life" satisfies.

Carell's Dan is a man worthy of empathy. Binoche's Marie was worldly, attractive and cast as a love interest in a movie, without being fifteen years younger than the man the man she's attracted to. For the record, Carell is 45, Binoche is 43!

Also in the cast, Dane Cook (annoying in this film, as I find him in real life), John Mahoney and Dianne Wiest. It's a large supporting cast and mainly peripheral to Dan and Marie.

The concentration of sobs per minute was greater in the pre-show trailer for "The Bucket List," but there was plenty of crying here too. There were lots of funny moments as well.

Good choice by Helaine again. I hereby forfeit my next turn as the Fox Family decider.

¹ - Amazingly, no one spoke with a Rhode Island accent. In my opinion, it is the harshest accent in America, making Bostonians sound as if they're from Nebraska.

My California cousins live in Lake Forest, CA. It's an area without a natural lake or forest! Man has taken over where Mother Nature came up short. They both exist now.

Cousins Michael, Melissa and Max have split to the coast tonight. Fire isn't imminent, but its effects are being felt. Ash covers the neighborhood streets. Acrid smoke fills the skies... and their lungs.

Last night Michael and I chatted on the phone. Looking past the now decommissioned El Toro Marine Air Station, the sky was orange. The fire was within four or five miles of their house.

It must be scary to be so close to something so destructive and at the same time so unpredictable. It's a different kind of fear than their standard fallback - earthquakes. There's no anticipation with quakes.

Every place has some natural peril. This is theirs.

I guess at some point I'm going to have to decide if I'm willing to let it be mine.

This is not a news site. I can't, and won't, compete with the voluminous coverage of what's going on in California. However, my Cousins have been sending email and I thought you might find their personal perspective interesting.

From Cousin Melissa. Tuesday morning, just after midnight PDT.

She updated us at 2:30 AM PDT

Helaine has spoken to Melissa a few times today. She was worried their house was in harm's way. Then the wind shifted.

It's interesting she's described it as "Kind of fun."