Ringing in a new year... I should buy a bell

I spent the first half of the last day of 2009 staring at the ceiling from my bed. I'm usually guilt ridden if I stay in bed for too long, but the last few days of a year always seem to be a perfect time for reflection, a calm before a new year's storm. Here are some photos representing the last twelve months.

I'm looking forward to 2010. If all goes according to plan, this new year will be full of delayed progression.

Intern Finds Archaeology Day Rewarding

Published in CSUF's Daily Titan newspaper on Dec. 14.

The end of a yearlong anthropology internship had finally appeared in front of me. I didn’t expect the conclusion to resemble an approaching parade of children kicking up dust down a trail in the Fullerton Arboretum, but if I had mentally grasped anything during this scientific journey it would have been the understanding that observing an outcome is better than predicting one.

Archaeology Day at the Arboretum had arrived on Dec. 6 and even with ominous clouds and random bursts of wind the place was thriving with life. Some people shopped for plants while others explored the lush grounds, but nestled up against the east-side fence sat 24 children with ages ranging from six to 12 learning about some of the old traditions of Native Americans during an educational series titled, "California Indian Plant Uses from Past to Present."

I recognized the interest set rigidly inside the kid’s brows while they lined up for a brief introduction by archaeology professor Brenda Bowser, who, along with a group of anthropology interns and colleagues, organized the event titled, “Archaeology Day at the Arboretum.” However, I didn’t catch a glimpse of fear, or hesitation in their eyes. Maybe it’s the age difference, but fear and hesitation is what I experienced. I was full of doubt when I decided to take my education outside of the classroom.

Over a year ago I strayed from my comfortable college routine and meandered in to Bowser’s office to inquire about the creative grant she had mentioned in class. Receive a grant and knock out a requirement for graduation by fishing? I had to try it. The strange idea fit my personality perfectly… and the project sounded easy. It sounded easy until “fishing” morphed into “collecting different species of fishes for the Anthropology Department’s comparative fishbone collection.”

I felt the cold sensation of imminent failure blanket my nerves. I didn’t have the confidence that these children seemed to have. They calmly marched on to the Sandbox Archaeology Project site, sat down and started participating in all the different activities that took over a year of extensive research and hard work to prepare – and they excelled.

“The goal of Archaeology Day at the Arboretum is to engage children in to the science of archaeology,” Bowser said in a phone interview. “[Also] to teach them about the lives of Native Americans from the past to the present in this region, and to integrate concepts that teachers are required to teach about archaeology according to the California state standards.”

The children were taught how to smash and grind acorns into a floury mush, make stone tools out of obsidian, make soap from Soaproot, create rock art, play old dice games and identify some of the plants within the Arboretum. They were also taught about California obsidian sourcing and were given the chance to taste acorn pancakes and prickly pears. They seemed to truly enjoy the adventure.

“We did acorn processing, which was the biggest staple with Native Americans,” said Holly Eeg, an anthropology intern. “The children love it, they’re happy with the food.”

These kids had already figured out the last few lessons I learned during my internship. Dive in. Participate and explore new things as often as possible, and don’t be too scared to try a prickly pear.

“I like helping kids, because I grew up being a life guard helping kids,” said Jamie Gray, an anthropology intern. “I want the kids to [learn] that Native Americans are still around and these are the things they did.”

I didn’t get to try obscure fruit, but the education I received outside of the classroom provided me with a full list of opportunities. Soon after that initial meeting with Bowser I was thrust into a world of bagging, tagging, logging, measuring, weighing, cutting, gutting, boiling, freezing and stinking. Yeah, I stunk. There’s no getting around it. In order to build up a comparative fishbone collection one must first catch a fish and then proceed to remove all the fleshy bits from the bones, or in other words macerate the specimen.

The work turned tedious in the last few months, but I accomplished my main goal. I supplied archaeologists and students with an array of fish and fish bones for their work in the field and future projects. Although the comparative fishbone collection is far from complete (I realized I wouldn’t be able to single handedly accomplish such a feat when I failed to catch any fish on my first day), the task has begun. Now students can pick up where I left off and go fishing for school credit.

I feel privileged to have been part of the beginning of a five-year educational journey between the Anthropology Department and the Fullerton Arboretum – and the only thing I had to do was dive in.

“We developed a memorandum of agreement between the Department of Anthropology and the Fullerton Arboretum to give us five years to work on this project,” Bowser said. “We proposed that the first year would be spent in planning and that we would begin our public educational activities in our second year, so we’re right on schedule.”

For more information about upcoming Sandbox Archaeology Project events visit the Fullerton Arboretum’s Web site at http://fullertonarboretum.org.

Lighting Up Alamitos Bay

Check out my new video

about the trees floating

in Alamitos Bay.

Gondola at Sunset

Learning to maneuver a gondola ranks at the top of my "Weird Achievements List," and it all happened by accident. My friend Jeff "Sunshine" Harmon shoved me down this intoxicating path nearly 8 years ago, and this path has provided me the chance to participate in a strange assortment of events. There are enough stories within the minds of American gondoliers to fill the pages of a thick book, or a bunch of thin ones.

But this post focuses on my most recent adventure.

I met up with Tim and Chris at Sunset Gondola and soon after I arrived Gondola Blog writer Greg Mohr showed up with oars and forcole. Mohr supplied extra equipment because on this night we would row a four-man gondola in the Huntington Harbor Christmas parade rehearsal... and lead.

A bit of manuel labor was needed before the row. I did my part by snapping photos and sipping vino. Mohr was in a zone, taking charge and making things happen. Except for the Skill saw, he lost that battle when he realized all the batteries were dead. Everything worked out though, he resorted to grunting and clawing at whatever was close enough. He broke pieces of wood with the handle of his oar. Nobody needs precision when the animal comes out.

He's actually cutting that piece in the photo above with the head of a fish he plucked from the harbor. I've never heard a human roar so convincingly, but fortunately I've seen a human take their pants off so that part didn't shock me much. You'll have to ask him to see the pictures. He might know where I live.

The row was fun. The conditions were dubious. The lady with the bullhorn needed a break.

But in the end, when we were pulling away from the stern of a boat occupied by generous souls, we were happy and satisfied with the oar in one hand and an ice-cold beer in the other.

Oh yeah, this is Phillip. He's new, and pretty soon he'll have a chapter of his own.

Zombie Walk

My new video is

posted on the District's

Web site.

Check it.

It's got zombies

roaming around.

Click.

33

I don't believe I'm ripe enough to spout out some wise philosophy about life, I'm only 33.

The desire was there when I woke up this morning, but I quickly realized there was nothing for me to say, it's not my time.

Since I wanted to blog about something I decided to converge my birthday post with my "Hey I think I just made pomegranate juice" post. So here it is, half rant, half how to.

First things first - have a grandma that knows another grandma with a pomegranate tree. Then, have grandma bring you 11 of them in a crinkled Target bag.

Mmm... beautiful. Actually, pomegranates are quite ugly on the outside. They look sick, or pissed off. It's like they sit there depressed, wondering if anyone will take the time and effort to eat each one of its seeds. They must know what a pain in the ass they are, and they stain everything except your mouth.

I walked to It's A Grind for a medium cup of Kenya this morning. I like to believe the fog rolling over the homes and on to my face was a birthday present. But, since the sun bullies California the fog has dissipated and now everything is back to regular outside.

Speaking of regular, grab a regular knife and cut

the pomegranate in half.

Then sit there and wonder what you've accomplished in the 33 years you've been alive, or how ever many years you've been alive, since I doubt all of you out there are 33.

If you can't think of anything then think of the juice you're about to make. How many people in the U.S.A. have actually made pomegranate juice? Maybe there are a lot of people, but let's pretend the actual number is low - anything to make you feel better, right?

Ah... look at them innards, so red and brainy. I guess the inside is a bit nasty too, huh? For now we'll go with the old adage, looks can be deceiving. Now we must pluck each individual seed.

But first... a break.

Mmm, good stuff.

Now you should have a big bowl, and depending on the decisions you've made in life you'll either have to borrow a bowl, grab one of the two bowls that will best suit the situation, or pay someone to hand you the expensive bowl you either inherited or bought with the money from a certain successful stock market purchase.

Any one will work.

After you fill the bowl about 3/4 of the way with water, submerge one of the pomegranate halves and begin the delicate process of removing the seeds from their comfortable little ruts. If you decided to attend college late in life, then you know what I'm talking about - you can't use too much force, or the seeds will pop and will never get an education. You need a plan. If successful the seeds will head off to college while all the crap will float on top waiting for the water to recede.

I guess life can be a bit like fruit. You have two main choices - become something important, like juice, or grow into something rotten and be thrown away.

That's wise, right? Not yet?

OK. Moving on.

Grab a fancy strainer and attempt to remove most of the problems that are hovering, waiting for that water level to drop.

Begin pouring the water out through the strainer just in case some seeds try to escape.

Now you should have all the seeds you are planning to use for your juice. There will be some crap left over, but for the most part your bowl is full of pom seeds.

Dump them in the blender and pulse them into a frothy mixture. Really make them pay for wanting to progress into something other than stagnant seeds.

Then pour your mixture into a jug, but through the strainer. The total transformation from pulp to pure juice will need a little coercing. Take a big spoon and smash the pulp so you get as much juice as possible.

You should be left with a pulp patty. I have no creative idea for what to do with that, because that's the past. Why worry about the past?

You should have your juice concentrate now. Take a shot of it.

Reward yourself, you earned it. Now you can add water and sugar to

remove some of the tart, but don't ruin it by adding too much.

I ended up with 3 1/4 cups of concentrate. I added 5 cups of water and a 1/2 cup of sugar. I could have added a little more of both, but I was through guessing.

What's your next goal?

My Sister and Her Birthday

I have a few different posts I should have posted a while ago.

I guess I'll post them now.

My sister Michelle had her birthday on Sept. 29.

She's now 29.

The family and a few friends met her at the Cannery Restaurant in Newport Beach.

I think she enjoyed herself.

Actually, I'm positive she enjoyed herself.

The Dish and I were able to try the wine that's featured in the movie "Sideways."

The Cannery's decor is almost reason enough to eat at the restaurant, but everyone enjoyed their meal and the sushi I ate tasted perfect... so you probably shouldn't just arrive to take over a table and not eat anything.

Rain god doesn't care about your money

I knew this would happen, but I didn't want to say anything.

Our truck needed a scrubbing for quite some time. The Dish finally got tired of my procrastination and took the truck in for a cleaning.

I wonder if an old group of Native Americans ever started a rain dance only to have someone stop it because they forgot to store something that couldn't get wet.

I wonder: Would a professional car washer clean a pair of truck balls if my truck had a pair of truck balls dangling in the rear?

Anyways, I knew this would happen.

Our truck, our dirt-free truck, sat outside last night

under a veil of rain.

Damn it.