Scanning Pictures

I've been scanning some older pictures, and it isn't going as I had hoped. The images are not as sharp as the original pictures. The pictures were taken from 3 to 12 years ago. I have a medium quality scanner, a 6 year old Lexmark.

Any suggestions?

A sample:

The last one is not cropped (nor were the others), and I puzzled over it. Why did the person who took it not include what was on my right??  Then I remembered........I was fishing with my buddy, I'd also taken a supermodel along on the trip, and he was pissed, so he cut her out!!

It's Almost Upon Us

It's not the apocalypse, though the dogs and cats might think so. It's the 3rd of July in Butte. For reasons unexplained, Butte celebrates Independence Day on the 3rd, rather than the 4th. Sometimes we have visitors in town, as in 2004.

Yesterday the 12 year old boy who lives across the street excitedly told me he had 70 dollars saved up for fireworks. "That's really, um...............great." I replied weakly.

The thing is, he's not talking about sparklers, or little birthday poppers. He's talking the big stuff, that sometimes you can't even find on Native American reservations. Butte has no restrictions, and some years it sounds like Tet in Viet Nam, circa 1968. It's as if every man, woman and child have been given 50 pounds of explosives, and they've taken to the streets. If you have asthma, it's wise to leave. By 6pm if there is no wind, a pall of smoke lies over the town.

One year the youngest and I were walking around the neighborhood near here, the noise was deafening, kids were running amok, and 5th grader Emily turned to me. "Dad" she said, "These are our people." Problem was, I agreed.

These pictures are not the 'official' fireworks display, that happens around 10:30 pm, and sometimes is a bit of an anti-climax after the preceding hours.

As you can see, they are coming from all over town. 

The festivities start around 4pm, whole neighborhoods seem to have contests on who can set off the most firecrackers and M-80's. Then bottle rockets join the fray, and with the first hint of dusk the big stuff starts going off. 

How does the local wildlife react to this? The same way I usually do: 

Get outta Dodge. 

The Evenings of Summer

My lilacs have come and gone, yesterday's 85 degrees rid the bush of the last blossoms. But, they were wonderful for the two weeks they were here.

The evenings are long, the sunlight still filters down well towards bedtime

On evenings like this, Butte used to have some evening entertainment. Until 2001 Butte had a minor league baseball team, the Copper Kings, of the Pioneer League. The Kings played their home games at Montana Tech's baseball field, just up the hill from me. 

Seating for perhaps 200 people, there was no such thing as a bad seat. The players were all from 17 to 21, from all over, including Latin America. Sometimes, the weather early in the season was a bit startling to them.

A few went on to have a cup of coffee in 'the show', most are doing something other than baseball now. But watching these enthusiastic, talented kids play ball was fun, baseball as it should be. 

Then there was the principal owner of the Copper Kings......

Yep, the guy from "Stripes", "Lost in Translation", Bill Murray. He was often in the stands, rousing the crowd. Although I never took part, I'm told he'd take fans after the game and end up closing a local bar with them. 

I once went to a game with a buddy and his family. His wife saw Murray near us, took a program to him for a signature. She came back grinning and showed us his autograph, along with the phone number of his room at a local hotel. 

Small town entertainment at it's finest.

Springtime, I guess

Fickle, fickle spring. A little over a week ago, it hit 72f in my little post-industrial town in SW Montana. Now...

Fall before last, my youngest daughter Emily planted bulbs along the iron fence in front. Last spring, the crocus came up in late May. A week ago, they were up, nearly a month early, perhaps encouraged into thinking spring was here. 

Not the best picture, but you can make out the white blossoms, wondering what was going on.

I've been out fishing, over a week ago at the start of the warm, beguiling, and ultimately false weather. The Big Hole was at around 1400 cfs when a friend and I arrived, three hours later it had rose a foot and colored up. We then went up one of the tributaries that flow in from the south, and fished. The brookies rose readily to a #16 royal wulff, and I saw pairs of rainbows on the gravel redds. I didn't cast over the rainbows, though they might have rose. Not through any real moral reason, rather that I don't think I would have appreciated someone tossing hooks through my bedroom river at a moment when I might have gotten lucky.

So, after looking at the beleaguered flowers this morning, I came back inside and took the vase of Iris from the fireplace mantle and placed it on the sill, as a shield perhaps against the reminder the winter ain't quite done with us. 

In a few minutes I'll head out to the BS cafe for breakfast, grouse to Sandy and the other pensioners like me who gather in the morning to tell the same stories countless times, compare new aches, and talk about the May Day disturbances in Seattle. 

These kids today, with their clothes, hair and music. Somewhere my dad is walking a river with the teenage me, listening to me pontificate on how we're a different generation, we'll be accepting of people different than us. He'll look sideways at me, rub his chin in that way he had and hide his grin with his hand. 

I Read the News Today, Oh Boy.....

Fair warning, this is going to be a bit of a polemic rant. And biased, politically. If jabs at right-wingnuts and the conservative christian right bother you, run away. Above is a 'next blog' icon. Click it. Three or four blogs on, you'll find one that starts "I live my life for Jesus, etc". You'll like that better.

So, my host here gets the NY Times, and Sundays the NY edition and the LA one. She's off for the weekend, so I brought them in, and with some trepidation, opened them up and read. Two cups of coffee didn't help. Let me say that when I do read newspapers, I like the Times better than most.  Fine writing, and I love the sports section; erudite sports writing is something of a rarity. Despite myself, I was drawn to articles about the GOP primary. I knew it was a mistake, but I read on. Later, perhaps feeling I hadn't been punished enough, I read the reviews of two books, one titled "Pity The Billionaire, and another "Rule and Ruin". Then I brooded. Next thing to sulking, actually. I never thought I'd be nostalgic for the days of Ronald Reagan or Tricky Dick. At least Reagan would sit down for a drink with Tip O'Neill. Now, the political nuts from the right can scarcely be seen in the same room with a democrat, let alone talk and come to any compromise with them. And I don't feel any kinder towards the democrats. If they're not paddling their leaking boats to starboard as fast as they can, they're cowering and chanting "Please don't hurt me."

How has it come to this? Do we actually want the moral black hole that is Rick Santorum, or the racism that is Newt Gingrich? Isn't the "Oh, did I say something rational? Let me take that back." that is Mitt Romney bad enough? Isn't it enough that we got a President that has driven to the middle of the road, and drifted wherever the political tides have flowed? I know, I know, nothing is possible in politics today that involves any real change that isn't fueled by swearing on the bible, but hell....when did mediocrity become an attribute, and intellectual prowess a liability?? It was bad enough that Mr. Cain choose that ninny from Alaska as a running mate, and she actually developed a following based on the premise that she's just dumb as a rock, and then the other woman to enter the arena, Ms. Bachmann didn't have the historical knowledge of a 3rd grader, but now these other bottom-feeders are actually pretending they should be president. President Santorum?? It's too horrid and nauseating to imagine. President Gingrich?? I'd rather have Taft back.

On to the book reviews, which didn't help my need for Prilosec. I'm not going to rely on the reviews, however. The local library will do, even if I have to wait. But the reviews, while missing perhaps the nuance of the complete book, were enough to irritate. The tea party (I want to reduce government, except that which benefits me...), the GOP mainstream (the objective: money. Tax cuts for the rich, their constituency.  The rest, a sop for the masses, a way to entrap the masses, eg. abortion, gay marriage, etc).

So, wish I had a solution. Even more, I wish a solution was possible in which our country comes out a winner. I just don't see it. We've become a culture in which every problem has to have a simple solution that doesn't hurt us. It can't be complex, it can't require compromise, or even deep thought. It's visceral, if it isn't, it does not resonate. Taxes are bad, don't ask me how our roads, schools, water lines, electricity will be maintained or improved, they just will. It's magic, it's gotta be. It'll just happen. Who cares about schools? My kids are grown/I don't have any. I don't care about the poor, I've got mine. And so it goes.

So what is to be done? I suppose the usual stuff: vote, nationally and locally. Pay attention to local issues, the school board, the city council. Be vocal. Write those in power. Live your life like you'd like others to live. Be kind to those deserving. Mock the loonies. Ask questions. Question authority.

I worked on RFK's campaign, and since several others. I've paid more taxes than most people, and don't regret any of it. You guys gotta cowboy up.

New Year

I'm back. Well, not back as in home in  Montana, but back on this blog. I figure the Road Trip is over, though miles remain at some point when I do go home, but the actual trip is over.

New Year's day is fabulous here, 10:30 am and upper 70's. This is what I've been looking for, warm, blue sky, the beach

These were taken yesterday on a beach 5 minutes away, on a day equally beautiful.

Last night the dinner was duck, brined, smoked then baked. Wild rice, cooked by soaking in first water, then bringing to a boil, letting soak, then bringing to a boil in poultry broth, and soaking again. Fresh bread, and some excellent Italian vegetable dishes. This was supplemented by L. making mimosa's, fresh oranges of course.

Today, a day of rest, will feature a walk on Redondo Beach, and calamari for dinner. And leftover dessert from last night: a zuppa inglese.

Hope all and sundry are having an equally good day, and I wish all of you the best new year possible.
Cheers

Signs I saw on a recent road trip

A week ago, I got back from a road trip, 2400 miles. Down I15, over to Boise, west to Vale, on to Burns, Bend, where I visited the kinfolk, up on Century Drive, on to Hiway 58, past Odell lake, over to the coast, down to the Rogue, up the Rogue to Grants Pass, Medford, east to K-Falls, Lakeview, Hart Mtn, Frenchglen, and north clear up to WA, ID, and back home. Anyway, here are three signs I saw.
The first, in Southern Oregon, on the large sign outside a small gas/convenience store:
Cold Ass Beer
The next, on a actual state highway sign
Winding Road Next 99 Miles
The last was in Idaho, a very small billboard, with a badly-done drawing of a snarling wolf

This deserves some comment, I believe. Poaching is broadly defined as the illegal taking of an animal, in violation of state, national or local laws. This brings up some interesting issues....are wolves bound by law? Do they have hunting seasons? Are they going to have to work at Burger King to get the money for license and tags??
Well, you kids settle this among yourselves. Meanwhile, I'm confident the Idaho Fish and Game will be out there getting search warrants, and reading wolves their Miranda Rights.