Your government loves you

I got back from an airplane trip to find the contents of my suitcase was rearranged. At first I was afraid something had been stolen, but then I found a note from the Transportation Safety Administration assuring me that my underwear was safe to put on.

I'm proud to live in a country where the government cares that much about its citizens.

Las Vegas: It Makes Everybody Want To Do Something Bad

One rule about Las Vegas is that regardless of what your moral orientation or strength is, you'll suffer from strong, destructive temptations. If you suffer from alcoholism or a gambling addiction, your problems are obvious. The same goes for those who love lots of food -- the buffets will drain your wallet and stretch your belt. If you're a sex addict, the pornographic playing-card-sized handouts from scraggly men on Las Vegas Boulevard will connect you to whatever kind of stimulation you need to implode your soul.

If, however, you don't suffer from any of these temptations, you'll still discover that your rather conservative mindset has a volatile nature when challenged. After a short while, you'll be tempted by some vulgar behaviors of your own, flipping off or cussing out the hustlers on the street, taking a megaphone with you as you walk, screaming "Move faster you fat ------- tourists!" An assault of images of what appear to be nude acrobats in positions that you would call vulnerable if they were humanly possible on a big screen TV the size of a tennis court advertising a show called "Zumanity" by Cirque du Soliel will make you consider taking advantage of Nevada's lax gun control laws to shoot holes in the bright body blaster above the boulevard. Or worse, upon being asked by a cocktail waitress in a top that reminds you of a balcony with no railings what you'd like to drink, you demand to see the manager just so that you can punch him in the nose for making her wear such a trashy outfit to support her kids.

My wife interviewed at Seigfried & Roy's Secret Garden to be a tiger trainer. I went along for the visit, and I can think of more than a few people I'd like to feed to those noble, toothy creatures.

Las Vegas, maybe?

Hi all,

Miri has been asked to fly down to Las Vegas to interview with Seigfried and Roy for a tiger-trainer job. We're going on Sunday.

I had a job interview today for an executive director job. They brought out the whole board of directors to grill me for an hour. I think I did all right, but I'm not sure I want to be a fundraiser (which seems to be what they're really looking for).

So Miri and I are both in transition right now, feeling a little stuck there. This classic Sesame Street song summarizes how we feel right now:

A 30 to 40 percent chance of scattered employment

In meteorological parlance, there are these two words about rain that pop up a lot: scattered and isolated. When you have isolated showers (or thunderstorms) moving through an area, that means that a storm will do something, somewhere, but for any given observer, he only has a 10 to 20 percent chance of getting rained on. Scattered means that more rain is coming and a particular spot has a 30 to 40 percent chance of getting rained on. Growing up in Puget Sound, most of my life has been lived on days expecting scattered showers.

And now, I am getting into a situation of scattered life. I have looked at seven apartments, called 10 others, applied for 20 jobs and had one job interview (although the rejection letter just came for that one). In viewing the apartments or applying for these jobs, only about 30 percent of them seem remotely interesting -- but I feel obligated to make the queries anyway because we need to live somewhere and be able to pay the rent.

The apartments have mostly been all right, although a few have been ghetto or rent-controlled. The reviews of these complexes on the Internet, however, have been atrocious. I've been trying to determine if this anti-landlord invective has any merit, or if only cranky people go on these sites to wish fire, brimstone, locusts and frogs upon distant descendants of their former apartment managers because they took too long to fix a washing machine.

Some of you may be wondering how we ended up back in Puget Sound with a life like the weather. I guess this is where the cheery part of this blog entry starts. Miri got a JOB!

Yes, an actual paying job as a zookeeper taking care of exotic animals. She works part time at the Point Defiance Zoo and Aquarium in Tacoma in the Asia exhibit. This is a very good thing as Point Defiance is one of the best zoos in the world. She gets to work with Asian river otters who sound like squeaky toys when they're vocal, tapirs, anoas, porcupines, Sumatran tigers, gibbons and siamangs. She feeds them and cleans their areas. (But don't worry, it's a protected contact facility, meaning the humans and animals never get to play.) Having a part-time job at Point Defiance is a resume builder job, meaning that they employ you for a year or two and then you have to go work somewhere else. (They rarely promote their own people into career positions.) We are hopeful that one of the other two zoos (Northwest Trek or Woodland Park) will hire her later.

I am searching for a job, and we're really hopeful that after I get employed, we can rent someplace to live that's halfway between the two jobs. If you happen to have a friend trying to rent a duplex, let us know.

We have gotten to do some fun stuff recently. On our anniversary, we went to a bed and breakfast south of Spokane and got to drive around in the Palouse country. Here's a picture of Miri at Kamiak Butte:


Click on the photo if you want to see more from that trip.

Miri's parents came to visit us in Spokane, and we went to Lake Coeur D'Alene to go canoeing. Robin and Grant happened to be coming through on their way to Missoula that day.

The other really cool thing we've gotten to do was a hike up at the Sunrise area of Mt. Rainier National Park. Here's a picture of Miri pointing at a black bear:


I got some pictures of Mr. Bear, but if you want to see them, you've got to click on the picture to get through to the album. That's kind of a cheap ploy, isn't it, but you want to see the album now, admit it!

So that's the news from Ruthfordville. Write back, say hi, tell us how you're doing. Jisa the dog wags her tail for you.