A very short entry at the moment, because I have to head out from work, but I wanted to put in an update:
On Sunday, we moved from Joanna's parents' place up to a camp owned by the parents of friends of friends (everybody has been so generous with their help for us poor refugees from the flames). It's been a bit like being on vacation, what with the bunk beds and rustificated conditions, but it's beautiful and has a lot of room for the kids to run around (plus, the boys are with some of their best friends, so they're having a ball).
Tomorrow, Lord willing, we will be allowed back on the mountain and into our home. So ideally by the weekend, we'll be approaching normal (as normal as we ever get, at any rate). I'll try to check in then.
Thank you deeply for all your prayers and offers of help. It's going to be quite a different mountain to which we return—the word is that there is no more forest behind our homes any longer, and houses both above and below us were lost.
But that must wait. Now I have to get back to the cabin, or there may be no candy for the Halloween party, and that would be Bad and Awful. Good All Hallow's Eve, all.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Lessons the Evacuation Has Taught Me
First and foremost, being out of the house and crowded into a small space with many others has shown all of my faults in glorious detail. My inclination to shirk my duties; my short temper and lack of patience; my need to be in control and my need for constant attention; and so on, and so forth. I don't feel like I'm doing a stellar job at being the "man of the house" out of my house. (Not that I do all that well in my own house, either, but at least there I have a little more room and a smaller audience.) I don't think I'm awful (though you'd have to ask my wife and rest of the family for the goods on that front), but I'm certainly not towing the line like I ought to be.
On the other hand, at least I'm not yelling about how the Government is trying to enact marshal law in the mountain communities and demanding that I be let back into my home even if I'm going to hamper emergency services and bring great risk upon myself and others by doing so. I know people's emotions get wrung out during such times (trust me, I know—see above), and we're all desperate to get a look at our property. But patience, people. Patience.
Not much else to report at this stage—I just wanted to pop in and update those of you perusing the blog. We're still sitting tight in Cherry Valley; this next week. I'll have to make some attempt to actually do my job once again, no matter what. I'm going to head back to the temporary homestead now and see if I can't better myself at least a bit before lunch.
On the other hand, at least I'm not yelling about how the Government is trying to enact marshal law in the mountain communities and demanding that I be let back into my home even if I'm going to hamper emergency services and bring great risk upon myself and others by doing so. I know people's emotions get wrung out during such times (trust me, I know—see above), and we're all desperate to get a look at our property. But patience, people. Patience.
Not much else to report at this stage—I just wanted to pop in and update those of you perusing the blog. We're still sitting tight in Cherry Valley; this next week. I'll have to make some attempt to actually do my job once again, no matter what. I'm going to head back to the temporary homestead now and see if I can't better myself at least a bit before lunch.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
The Waiting
The good news first: as of last night at around 6pm, all the homes on our stretch of Live Oak were still standing, and it sounds as though the homes of most of those we know were as well. We even saw pictures, courtesy of a fine law enforcement official who is a friend of my sister-in-law.
Many kind people have stepped forward to offer help, use of their homes, and other aid, and you are all much appreciated. Sorry if I haven't gotten back to some of you directly—it's still been a crazy time. But it is good to know so many were praying for and thinking of us.
We're not quite through the flames yet. There is still 0% containment on the Slide Fire and some flare-ups continue to erupt. Plus, now we're seeing more and more calls for security checks on potential looters (What a sad, sad world.), including one right across the street from us. And once the fire is officially out, the word is that it will require a mighty large effort to clean up the roads and infrastructure enough to allow people to return. The lesson about "letting go of mundane things" has not (so far) been quite as permanent as I might have imagined, but it is ongoing. And, of course, there are those who will not recover for years to come, or potentially ever. I pray we can do something for them and that, as is the hope with disastrous circumstances of whatever stripe, we will be drawn a little closer to others through the adversity.
Getting a little philosophical here. Blame it on a lack of sleep, on being in a small house with 10 kids and 8 adults (no matter how kind and generous and patient they are), on a lack of internet access except for certain portions of the day (O, how I have become a worshipper at the altar of technology and instant gratification/communication!), and perhaps on my inability to think coherently these days.
Me mother's coming to join me for coffee, so I'm off. Prayers for coherence, sanity, and faithfulness are appreciated (possibly more for those who have to deal with me than for myself).
Many kind people have stepped forward to offer help, use of their homes, and other aid, and you are all much appreciated. Sorry if I haven't gotten back to some of you directly—it's still been a crazy time. But it is good to know so many were praying for and thinking of us.
We're not quite through the flames yet. There is still 0% containment on the Slide Fire and some flare-ups continue to erupt. Plus, now we're seeing more and more calls for security checks on potential looters (What a sad, sad world.), including one right across the street from us. And once the fire is officially out, the word is that it will require a mighty large effort to clean up the roads and infrastructure enough to allow people to return. The lesson about "letting go of mundane things" has not (so far) been quite as permanent as I might have imagined, but it is ongoing. And, of course, there are those who will not recover for years to come, or potentially ever. I pray we can do something for them and that, as is the hope with disastrous circumstances of whatever stripe, we will be drawn a little closer to others through the adversity.
Getting a little philosophical here. Blame it on a lack of sleep, on being in a small house with 10 kids and 8 adults (no matter how kind and generous and patient they are), on a lack of internet access except for certain portions of the day (O, how I have become a worshipper at the altar of technology and instant gratification/communication!), and perhaps on my inability to think coherently these days.
Me mother's coming to join me for coffee, so I'm off. Prayers for coherence, sanity, and faithfulness are appreciated (possibly more for those who have to deal with me than for myself).
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Flames of Truth
The title may sound pretty dramatic, especially when they are covering for a day spent doing nothing more than checking online every five minutes and watching television news.
We don't have any information on our house, though the devastation in Running Springs looks fairly horrific. We know that most of the streets around us have burned, and the reports at the moment suggest that the fire is making a run up our road toward us. Our firefighter neighbor suggested when he moved in that the potential nightmare for them was fire getting into the drainage below us, as the fuels there hadn't burned for a century or more. And that sounds like just where it is.
Really, I'm okay no matter what happens, despite the rather desperate demeanor I'm wearing these days. It's God's house, and He can leave it or take it, as He likes. I admitted to Devin and Chris that there's a part of me that would welcome the chance to start over afresh, really.
But I just want to know. If it's there, fine. If it's gone, fine. But not knowing is nerve-wracking. In essence, it makes no difference if I know and I ought to be able to act in that knowledge, but sink me if I can get a lick of work done. Our campus is closed tomorrow (thanks be to the Lord for that), but knowledge would be the balm of the moment.
I keep wondering if there isn't something that civilians could do to help. I have no skills to speak of, but I could dig a ditch, or cut down trees, or be a water boy for working firefighters. And someone ought to start a website called "IsMyHouseBurned.com"; you would put in your address and it would just say, "Yes, you now own a pile of rubble," or, "No, fluffykins—You still have a place to live." Someone get on that, would you?
More prayers for those who can't afford to lose their houses, and for those amazing men and women fighting the fire, are the things.
We don't have any information on our house, though the devastation in Running Springs looks fairly horrific. We know that most of the streets around us have burned, and the reports at the moment suggest that the fire is making a run up our road toward us. Our firefighter neighbor suggested when he moved in that the potential nightmare for them was fire getting into the drainage below us, as the fuels there hadn't burned for a century or more. And that sounds like just where it is.
Really, I'm okay no matter what happens, despite the rather desperate demeanor I'm wearing these days. It's God's house, and He can leave it or take it, as He likes. I admitted to Devin and Chris that there's a part of me that would welcome the chance to start over afresh, really.
But I just want to know. If it's there, fine. If it's gone, fine. But not knowing is nerve-wracking. In essence, it makes no difference if I know and I ought to be able to act in that knowledge, but sink me if I can get a lick of work done. Our campus is closed tomorrow (thanks be to the Lord for that), but knowledge would be the balm of the moment.
I keep wondering if there isn't something that civilians could do to help. I have no skills to speak of, but I could dig a ditch, or cut down trees, or be a water boy for working firefighters. And someone ought to start a website called "IsMyHouseBurned.com"; you would put in your address and it would just say, "Yes, you now own a pile of rubble," or, "No, fluffykins—You still have a place to live." Someone get on that, would you?
More prayers for those who can't afford to lose their houses, and for those amazing men and women fighting the fire, are the things.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Speaking Too Soon
I should have left well enough alone.
After my post from yesterday, of course we got evacuated today. A couple of big fires in Lake Arrowhead and Green Valley Lake have pushed us out. The family and many of our worldly possessions are in Beaumont with Joanna's generous folks, along with our neighbors and possibly Joanna's sisters' family: it'll be a busy place (10 kids all together...).
I had just prayed last night (after my last entry) that God would help me to let go of the mundane things of this world and cling on only to Him and His greater promises—I did not expect the answer to come quite so swiftly, or in such a dramatic fashion...
Anyway, we don't have internet access from the new digs, so communication may be sporadic. Which is frustrating, because thanks to Rim of the World.net, I'm now an update junkie, and the local news still can't get any of the mountain towns straight.
In any case, we are well and we will be fine—pray for those who will suffer far more from the loss of their homes, and for all the firefighters out there. I'll update when I can.
After my post from yesterday, of course we got evacuated today. A couple of big fires in Lake Arrowhead and Green Valley Lake have pushed us out. The family and many of our worldly possessions are in Beaumont with Joanna's generous folks, along with our neighbors and possibly Joanna's sisters' family: it'll be a busy place (10 kids all together...).
I had just prayed last night (after my last entry) that God would help me to let go of the mundane things of this world and cling on only to Him and His greater promises—I did not expect the answer to come quite so swiftly, or in such a dramatic fashion...
Anyway, we don't have internet access from the new digs, so communication may be sporadic. Which is frustrating, because thanks to Rim of the World.net, I'm now an update junkie, and the local news still can't get any of the mountain towns straight.
In any case, we are well and we will be fine—pray for those who will suffer far more from the loss of their homes, and for all the firefighters out there. I'll update when I can.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Miscellaneous, Random, Etc., and So On
First off, my prayers are with you if you live in Southern California anywhere—most likely, you've been evacuated to somewhere else. By God's grace, no fires have threatened us as of yet, but we have several relatives who are in different digs this evening. The wind has been demonic today, which makes for really great outdoor fun but also massive and horrifying fire danger.
Onward and upward. My dear sister over at You Must Be Kidding... posted about what I avoided last time: the death of our grandfather. It wasn't so much an issue of my being too upset to post (as she notes there, he was a believer—this is a temporary separation, as he has scaled the walls of the kingdom and awaits our joining him in our true home); it was just too much for me to post. The experience (which she recounts much more wonderfully than I could) was just somewhat surreal. So many clichés were tossed around, and yet I think I now know why we still rely on them in difficult times. I think this was the first death I can remember at which phrases like, "He's better off now," and, "He's gone home," and, "It's better this way," didn't feel like hollow attempts to comfort ourselves. I don't know if I was just hanging on to a lot of my childhood perceptions (it has been a very long time since someone close to me has passed), but those ideas rang true. I don't know what those who don't have the hope of Christ see in such phraseology. Perhaps, for them, they are simply platitudes meant to console a grief that cannot be assuaged otherwise. I like knowing that they are stone truth.
Meanwhile, for those of us still here in the world, mired in the earthly, everyday things continue to eat at us. Sometimes I wonder if we aren't so bound by the cords of mundanity that we are missing a much more thrilling call. I suppose our best hope is to pray to be open to the larger, more wonderful things of God and pray to live in and for those things. I want the adventure God offers, but I'm always stuck doing the dishes.
On that front, I've been doing some reading lately, as reflected in the sidebar over there. I read Harry Potter and the Seventh Harry Potter Book for an upcoming book discussion at school. (I need the professional development hours.) It was better than I had feared but still not high on my list. I likened Rowling to Stephen King in that: she can put together a plot and keep you interested in the outcome; the pacing is generally sound and the read goes quickly. But boy, does she have some annoying habits when it comes to description, inner thoughts, and a tin ear for dialogue (except for some quite funny bits with Fred and George, the Weasely twins, actually; she should try comedy at some point). So now I don't have to read the first six books, I guess, since I already know how it ends up (though it would be handy to know some of the approximately 7,436,772 references to previous events made throughout book 7).
A much more satisfying read came from Max Brook's World War Z. If you've ever seen the rather amusing The Zombie Survival Guide, you may have a sense of his tongue-in-cheek realism. WWZ gives a much deeper picture of what it would actually be like were the dead to rise and a pretty accurate depiction of what steps would have to be taken to ensure our survival. (I, for one, would not like to have to be on one of the sweep teams sent to colder regions each spring to wipe out those zombies who were frozen during the winter and were beginning to thaw...) The book is set up in a verité style as a series of interviews with survivors from a worldwide zombie uprising. I was a bit bitter, as this is the kind of book I think I could do ferociously well but didn't think of before someone else got to it. So many books out there are like that.
Between that and watching the excellent 28 Weeks Later, I feel like I should launch into my sermon about the use of the zombie trope in modern storytelling and the inherent lack of suspense almost all horror movies have for the thinking Christian viewer, but that's a diatribe best saved for another time.
So no one has yet come forward with any good trail name for me, or a vote about where to put my hiking journal once I become a card-carrying long-distance hiker. However, since I know you are all wondering what delightful thing you should get me for Christmas this year, I share my secret greedy shame: I have a registry over at REI's gift registry. (My number is GR1603873, in case that helps.) I'm not really looking for people to buy me these things (though I wouldn't be so ungentlemanly as to say no), but I was tired of figuring out the gear I wanted and then forgetting a week later and going through 900 backpacks again—this keeps the list of the stuff I like accessible. I'm working on moving as close to ultralight as I can get without actually becoming a fanatic on the subject; I certainly have enough gear to get along with now, but with all that fancy stuff listed there, I could get down well below 30 pounds, and if I'm going to seriously do any long-distance hiking—and the long-dreamt-of PCT—I'll need that airy lightness. Our projected date when I can actually do that with the boys in tow is 2017, but the registry doesn't let you go so far into the misty future, so 2011 is what's listed now. Of course, I just read the journal of a man and his 12-year-old son who completed the whole shebang this year, so maybe 2012...
There's more, but no time for it. As always, more updates equal less substance. So much time, so little to do. Wait. Scratch that. Reverse it. Thank you.
Onward and upward. My dear sister over at You Must Be Kidding... posted about what I avoided last time: the death of our grandfather. It wasn't so much an issue of my being too upset to post (as she notes there, he was a believer—this is a temporary separation, as he has scaled the walls of the kingdom and awaits our joining him in our true home); it was just too much for me to post. The experience (which she recounts much more wonderfully than I could) was just somewhat surreal. So many clichés were tossed around, and yet I think I now know why we still rely on them in difficult times. I think this was the first death I can remember at which phrases like, "He's better off now," and, "He's gone home," and, "It's better this way," didn't feel like hollow attempts to comfort ourselves. I don't know if I was just hanging on to a lot of my childhood perceptions (it has been a very long time since someone close to me has passed), but those ideas rang true. I don't know what those who don't have the hope of Christ see in such phraseology. Perhaps, for them, they are simply platitudes meant to console a grief that cannot be assuaged otherwise. I like knowing that they are stone truth.
Meanwhile, for those of us still here in the world, mired in the earthly, everyday things continue to eat at us. Sometimes I wonder if we aren't so bound by the cords of mundanity that we are missing a much more thrilling call. I suppose our best hope is to pray to be open to the larger, more wonderful things of God and pray to live in and for those things. I want the adventure God offers, but I'm always stuck doing the dishes.
On that front, I've been doing some reading lately, as reflected in the sidebar over there. I read Harry Potter and the Seventh Harry Potter Book for an upcoming book discussion at school. (I need the professional development hours.) It was better than I had feared but still not high on my list. I likened Rowling to Stephen King in that: she can put together a plot and keep you interested in the outcome; the pacing is generally sound and the read goes quickly. But boy, does she have some annoying habits when it comes to description, inner thoughts, and a tin ear for dialogue (except for some quite funny bits with Fred and George, the Weasely twins, actually; she should try comedy at some point). So now I don't have to read the first six books, I guess, since I already know how it ends up (though it would be handy to know some of the approximately 7,436,772 references to previous events made throughout book 7).
A much more satisfying read came from Max Brook's World War Z. If you've ever seen the rather amusing The Zombie Survival Guide, you may have a sense of his tongue-in-cheek realism. WWZ gives a much deeper picture of what it would actually be like were the dead to rise and a pretty accurate depiction of what steps would have to be taken to ensure our survival. (I, for one, would not like to have to be on one of the sweep teams sent to colder regions each spring to wipe out those zombies who were frozen during the winter and were beginning to thaw...) The book is set up in a verité style as a series of interviews with survivors from a worldwide zombie uprising. I was a bit bitter, as this is the kind of book I think I could do ferociously well but didn't think of before someone else got to it. So many books out there are like that.
Between that and watching the excellent 28 Weeks Later, I feel like I should launch into my sermon about the use of the zombie trope in modern storytelling and the inherent lack of suspense almost all horror movies have for the thinking Christian viewer, but that's a diatribe best saved for another time.
So no one has yet come forward with any good trail name for me, or a vote about where to put my hiking journal once I become a card-carrying long-distance hiker. However, since I know you are all wondering what delightful thing you should get me for Christmas this year, I share my secret greedy shame: I have a registry over at REI's gift registry. (My number is GR1603873, in case that helps.) I'm not really looking for people to buy me these things (though I wouldn't be so ungentlemanly as to say no), but I was tired of figuring out the gear I wanted and then forgetting a week later and going through 900 backpacks again—this keeps the list of the stuff I like accessible. I'm working on moving as close to ultralight as I can get without actually becoming a fanatic on the subject; I certainly have enough gear to get along with now, but with all that fancy stuff listed there, I could get down well below 30 pounds, and if I'm going to seriously do any long-distance hiking—and the long-dreamt-of PCT—I'll need that airy lightness. Our projected date when I can actually do that with the boys in tow is 2017, but the registry doesn't let you go so far into the misty future, so 2011 is what's listed now. Of course, I just read the journal of a man and his 12-year-old son who completed the whole shebang this year, so maybe 2012...
There's more, but no time for it. As always, more updates equal less substance. So much time, so little to do. Wait. Scratch that. Reverse it. Thank you.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
10,834 Feet
No, Ornery's Wife—I will never post to this blog again.
Oh, wait.
What does one do when one is so far behind on blogging that there's no way to catch up?
This is the conundrum that has kept me away from the ol' blog for so long. And, as always, it's a silly question. Somehow I feel obligated to get down everything that has transpired since the last posting, which usually (especially during busy times) proves, to quote Stephen Fry, both difficult and impossible. It takes some distance or time or something to remind me that this is not a requirement. Call me anal retentive—you won't be the first.
So what have I been up to? Nothin'.
Hah!
Life has been busy coming at me from every direction, as it is wont to do. The boys are sprouting up at a phenomenal rate and are now Tiger Cubs (which involves a lot more selling of product than I seem to remember from Cub Scouts), Born Dancin' is tearing our house apart bit by bit and saving herself through the power of overwhelming cuteness (Joanna listed Born Dancin's "occupation" on a recent doctor visit as "toddler/destroyer"), and Joanna continues to perform amazing feats of balance in teaching home school, keeping the house in one piece despite Born Dancin's depredations, and keeping me sane. Well, sane-ish, anyway.
I've been teaching and grading with some relative dedication, though my grand plan to keep up with the work in a timely fashion has, as always, collapsed. It is a testament to some growth that it hasn't collapsed as thoroughly as usual, I suppose. And I've generally been able to give some time to writing nearly every weekday. That's been more tough this last month or so, but I am pleased it is progressing in some form. Ideally, I'll have something like a complete draft by the end of the year.
That may be tricky with NaNoWriMo coming up again in November. I really don't want to skip it, but I'm not certain I can push this novel forward on that schedule. (Though I must admit, in writing this out right now, it sounds far more possible than I would have before credited.) I have a few undertakings I'd really like to undertake, including another murder party to plan for next year (I had much hoped to write this one from scratch) and some Christmas projects. Too many things to do.
Finally, on the hiking front: I set out a couple of weekends ago for a day hike from Idyllwild to the peak of Mt. San Jacinto with a trio of others (Gandalf was one; we'll call the others Boromir and Denethor, for preference). I'd never been up there before and it was pretty fantastic. The journey was a bit over 16 miles with quite a bit of elevation gain, so I was pleased that I was able to keep up with the others. Of course, considering that the youngest of my comrades was a good fifteen years my senior, and the oldest had over thirty years on me, that may not be as impressive as it seems. They kept me hopping, I must say. It was beautiful up there, though, at nearly 11,000 feet, and the day was cold and wonderfully clear. (It was 26 degrees when we set out at 7am and about 36 degrees when we returned at 6:30pm; we had to negotiate a few patches of ice along the way.)
I took many a picture up there (including a set of 360-degree photos that would be fun to stitch together, if I could find a way to do it); here are a few:
This is our group at the peak. For those of you who have wondered what he looks like, Gandalf is the one in the shades.
One of the better vistas from the top. You don't really realize just how brown our chunk of the southwest is until it is all you can see for a few hundred miles.
Those mountains in the distance are our good old San Bernardinos—the peak is San Gorgonio with Big Bear in the distance and the Cajon Pass behind.
Really, I have to get the miles up so that I can honestly get an online hiking journal. I'm not sure if I want to go with Trail Journals or Postholer; maybe you, gentle readers, can help me decide which looks better. I have to be a long-distance hiker to get in, and I don't think I qualify yet. Plus, I need a good trail name and "Samwise" is taken. Maybe I should do a poll and take suggestions from y'all. And no, "Anal-Retentive Legalist" is not an option.
Other things have been transpiring, but I'll either save them for a more thorough treatment or keep them close to my chest. I'll try to be in here more often if any of you playing along at home are keeping score.
I've got to get to that grading. Godspeed, all.
Oh, wait.
What does one do when one is so far behind on blogging that there's no way to catch up?
This is the conundrum that has kept me away from the ol' blog for so long. And, as always, it's a silly question. Somehow I feel obligated to get down everything that has transpired since the last posting, which usually (especially during busy times) proves, to quote Stephen Fry, both difficult and impossible. It takes some distance or time or something to remind me that this is not a requirement. Call me anal retentive—you won't be the first.
So what have I been up to? Nothin'.
Hah!
Life has been busy coming at me from every direction, as it is wont to do. The boys are sprouting up at a phenomenal rate and are now Tiger Cubs (which involves a lot more selling of product than I seem to remember from Cub Scouts), Born Dancin' is tearing our house apart bit by bit and saving herself through the power of overwhelming cuteness (Joanna listed Born Dancin's "occupation" on a recent doctor visit as "toddler/destroyer"), and Joanna continues to perform amazing feats of balance in teaching home school, keeping the house in one piece despite Born Dancin's depredations, and keeping me sane. Well, sane-ish, anyway.
I've been teaching and grading with some relative dedication, though my grand plan to keep up with the work in a timely fashion has, as always, collapsed. It is a testament to some growth that it hasn't collapsed as thoroughly as usual, I suppose. And I've generally been able to give some time to writing nearly every weekday. That's been more tough this last month or so, but I am pleased it is progressing in some form. Ideally, I'll have something like a complete draft by the end of the year.
That may be tricky with NaNoWriMo coming up again in November. I really don't want to skip it, but I'm not certain I can push this novel forward on that schedule. (Though I must admit, in writing this out right now, it sounds far more possible than I would have before credited.) I have a few undertakings I'd really like to undertake, including another murder party to plan for next year (I had much hoped to write this one from scratch) and some Christmas projects. Too many things to do.
Finally, on the hiking front: I set out a couple of weekends ago for a day hike from Idyllwild to the peak of Mt. San Jacinto with a trio of others (Gandalf was one; we'll call the others Boromir and Denethor, for preference). I'd never been up there before and it was pretty fantastic. The journey was a bit over 16 miles with quite a bit of elevation gain, so I was pleased that I was able to keep up with the others. Of course, considering that the youngest of my comrades was a good fifteen years my senior, and the oldest had over thirty years on me, that may not be as impressive as it seems. They kept me hopping, I must say. It was beautiful up there, though, at nearly 11,000 feet, and the day was cold and wonderfully clear. (It was 26 degrees when we set out at 7am and about 36 degrees when we returned at 6:30pm; we had to negotiate a few patches of ice along the way.)
I took many a picture up there (including a set of 360-degree photos that would be fun to stitch together, if I could find a way to do it); here are a few:
This is our group at the peak. For those of you who have wondered what he looks like, Gandalf is the one in the shades.
One of the better vistas from the top. You don't really realize just how brown our chunk of the southwest is until it is all you can see for a few hundred miles.
Those mountains in the distance are our good old San Bernardinos—the peak is San Gorgonio with Big Bear in the distance and the Cajon Pass behind.
Really, I have to get the miles up so that I can honestly get an online hiking journal. I'm not sure if I want to go with Trail Journals or Postholer; maybe you, gentle readers, can help me decide which looks better. I have to be a long-distance hiker to get in, and I don't think I qualify yet. Plus, I need a good trail name and "Samwise" is taken. Maybe I should do a poll and take suggestions from y'all. And no, "Anal-Retentive Legalist" is not an option.
Other things have been transpiring, but I'll either save them for a more thorough treatment or keep them close to my chest. I'll try to be in here more often if any of you playing along at home are keeping score.
I've got to get to that grading. Godspeed, all.