The public radio station where I work–its call letters begin with a K and end with D and also include an E and a Q, though not necessarily in that order–is blogging. Our Sacramento bureau chief has a blog. We have a project called Climate Watch that has a blog. Over the summer, we started a daily general news blog. As part of a nationwide NPR effort called Project Argo, we’ve launched a blog on education technology. I’ve written occasionally for most of them; in fact, on a day I was standing in for our regular news blogger, I got a chance to post something on odd developments in California’s high-speed rail project (“High-Speed Rail’s Central Valley Section: Build It and Who Will Come?“).
Yesterday, I was the designated blogger for another project: producing a “live” (i.e., continuously updated) account of the proceedings in the federal appeals court hearing on California’s Proposition 8 (that’s the 2008 initiative that essentially overrode an earlier state Supreme Court decision and banned same-sex marriage).
I live-blogged a couple of baseball games (here, here, and here) during the Giants playoff run. It’s fun, a way to play sportscaster and mine one’s rich store of deeply internalized sports idioms. Live-blogging a court hearing during a case that rests on some highly technical issues and lots of people care about? It’s not exactly second nature.
But here’s the result: Proposition 8 Appeals Hearing: Live Blog. The hearing was two and a half hours, and it went by in a blur. While it was going on, I felt like I was battling to keep up. Reading it now–not bad. I did better than the lawyer for the deputy clerk of Imperial County, anyway (see the top part of this post).
On our Saturday morning walk, which takes us through the school garden at King Middle School, Kate spotted the apparition above pictured. We’ve seen this sort in our neighborhood before. It’s a latticed stinkhorn, also known as Clathrus ruber. (Why stinkhorn? The organism reportedly smells like rotting flesh. “Reportedly”–I haven’t had the pleasure myself). The orange fungi apparently emerge from the white objects you can see on the ground nearby. (Here’s a nice collection of pictures from that shows the stinkhorn in various stages of development. Note the plea for advice on how to eradicate them.)
In keeping it simple, we got up late after a late night getting ready for our day off. Got up late, but we were both up at dawn to check in on work stuff before turning in. Then we walked the dog, phoned friends (including Pete, who
se birthday is today), didn’t call other people we were thinking about and would have loved to talk to (hello, Oakland, Campbell, Chicago, Brooklyn), then got ready to go out.
In keeping it simple, we reconnoitered a little and figured we’d drive south to see monarch butterflies. After we stopped to look at some warm jackets. After a warm jacked was looked at and purchased, we decided that the remaining daylight would best be spent driving a shorter distance, north to the upper reaches of a creek that flows down off Mount Tamalpais in Marin County.
So we did that–keeping it simple. Once up on the mountain and out in the woods, we walked until it was nearly dark, then drove up and over a high ridge that drops down toward the Pacific. On the way down, we could see lights, and once we made sense of them we realized we were watching dozens of crab boats working offshore into the night. We descended down to the water’s edge, then down the shore to Stinson Beach, where we stopped and ate and left the dog in the car.
After a mess of plates and some locally caught crab (in cake form), we came home. Then I looked at all the pictures I took, and you crashed early–another busy day tomorrow.
A simple day, twenty-five years to that day we married, and one I could do over and over.