New toy.

New toy.

Maps make me happy.

Date night!

In some middle-eastern countries this might be called "insult-o-vision".

Here in Amerikuh, it's just kinda weird.  

For background on shoe insults and some funny pictures of "Dubya", go here.

What's in the bag?

Shhh! It's a surprise!

Four generations in one spot!

Party at the Eagle's Nest!

Haha!  I tricked Mark into shopping and trying something on in Express!

I went to the Doc 'cause my back hurt, but came home with a tetanus shot, and a hole in my elbow.  I'm thinking that didn't go as planned, somehow.

Sometimes the mail makes us sad.  We met George for the first time in February.

He told us his stories about fighting off sharks with lifeboat paddles.  He was so proud of his picture in the Survivor's book.  We met him too late, and he left us too early.

Still Life: "One dog on two beds."

More Lucas!

This time, with Uncle Mark and Dad. 

Looks like someone has a little growing to do!

Our nephew!

This is Lucas.

We think he's pretty cute...in a manly sort of way, of course!

What sort of present should an aunt and uncle bring?  We decided on some intensely practical items...

A mustachifier and some Pee-Pee Tee-Pees!

The fastest way to piss me off is to give me something like this to hand out...

Left him in the house by himself, and he polished off 3 six-packs.  Impressive.

A quick night hike with Sara.  To the top of Mt. Whitney in 15 minutes!  (Not to be confused with the really big Mt. Whitney.)  Ours is quite puny, and there's no risk of altitude sickness. Check out this link.  Mt. Whitney

Mark and I drooling over the centerfold...Whitney.

Oh, please.  It's not what you think...

An alien visiting Earth today might think that this holiday is about eating things, and round pastel-colored objects.  Here's the proof:

 Our eggs, pre- and post-battle.

North Coast Church.  Vista, CA.  Easter Morning, 7:25am.  They thought 250 might show up for the extra-early service.  We were stunned by over 900 people!  Awesome!  A great way to start the day.

www.northcoastchurch.com

Sara's Birthday Celebration Continues

This time with bowling.  A noble sport...I think.

It's shipping day!  My babies are off to their new home!

Yes!  All the fixings for a party.  What's the occasion you ask?  It's ah, um, ...Easter.  Hey, Jesus knew how to party, too.  Click for proof!

Today's forecast:

Sun! Followed by gloom and doom.  That is a killer fog bank.

Today Sara turns 33!

A very serious scientific study tells us that 33 is the happiest age.  So far, we agree.  Any year that starts with donuts seems promising, indeed!

Yesterday's caterpillar.

Today's mission:  Proceed to LA, avoid radiation from the broken nuke plant, rescue my wife from a horde of child celebrities and secret service agents, evade the pernicious so-cal traffic, reconnoiter posh beach locations for future invasion(s) by sea, dine fabulously, and make it home unscathed.

Today's transportation: It's not very aerodynamic, but it does weigh 500 tons and goes 90 mph.  Good enough.

 Since this is a secret mission, and I can't have anyone following me, I chartered the entire train.  No other passengers means no other prying eyes.  Also, since I am a master of disguise, I applied a beard for the occasion. See? You can't even recognize me now.







While travelling northward on my private train, I photographed and took notes on the countryside, detailing hazards for agents infiltrating these shores. Note to future field agents--avoid this boob-shaped structure.  Its innards are fragile and have the potential to leak radiation, and that's not good for your health.  The surrounding area is also populated by a large contingent of surly Marines (also not good for your health).

The vast, ominous and lurking city of Los Angeles: You will never find a greater hive of scum and villiany.  Somewhere in this metropolis, my wife awaits rescue.

Our rendezvous point:  Spycraft is dangerous work, and your next meal could be your last.  I make a practice of frequenting only the most rarified and cultured eating establishments.

 After a successful rendezvous and debrief, my wife seems intact, though perhaps a bit...ruffled, shall we say.  Life in the trenches is hard.









Observe the master at work:  It appears that this is an ordinary picture of a happy couple vacationing through the nation's beauty spots.  Ah, but no, you are mistaken.  You will note that there is more to this picture than meets the eye.  You will see that I timed the photo exactly such that the distant whitecaps are actually Morse code detailing the rotation schedule of the facility's guards, and also the winning picks for next year's March Madness bracket.  If viewed under a UV light, you can see through the window in this photograph, into the room where un-named high-ranking officials are planning to take over the nation.  You see, they've slowly built a monopoly so that they control the supply of coffee condiments for every federal building on the continent.  I have uncovered a plot whereby they shall substitute all caffeinated coffee with decaf on the first day of daylight savings time next year.  (Why daylight-saving time, you ask? That's the morning everyone needs coffee the most, since everyone has lost an hour of sleep. Duh.)  All federal employees will fall asleep on the job, leaving the land ripe for the taking!  You will also notice that my shoe is untied.  This is a ruse to lull anyone observing into thinking that I am merely a common tourist...  It's a ruse.  Yes, I meant to do that.

 While Secret Agent Sara memorized routes up the cliffs, I took the opportunity to surreptitiously photograph the defenses.  Note to future invaders:  Call ahead to reserve a tee-time at the nearby Trump Golf club.  You simply MUST see hole 7.  Spectacular, really.  Also, bring ladders, lots of ladders.  There is a large cliff.

 The wind blew out our signal fire, so we had to transmit our clandestinely acquired intelligence to our offshore forces by using semaphore signals.  It's rapidly becoming a lost art, but it's saved me in many a pinch, let me tell you.  This photograph shows Sara mid-word.  Sometimes for fun, we communicate this way across crowded airport terminals.  People rarely notice.  It also has the benefit of burning about 14 calories per sentence, so it's a good way to work off that chicken-fried steak from the faux-Denny's this morning.

With our  mission successfully completed, we celebrated with a fiery repast at a fine asian establishment near our home base.  Incidentally, it turns out that flaming appetizers and cloth napkins can be very effective for sending coded messages.