Home Now

One important correction to the post below. On the flight home I read the stack of family Christmas letters that Mom gave me. They contained some details about family history from before my birth that I did not know. The first letter was from 1956 and it states that my father worked at the airport for "two and a half years" up to that point. So technically he worked there from mid-1953 through 1956. High confidence in this assessment as my father was always fastidious in proofreading my mother's Christmas letters.

Going Home

At SBA. There is a lot of family history here. My father worked at this airport in 1952 and 1953 when he went to Westmont and UCSB. The hangar to the right in the lower picture is where he kept his Cessna 180 in the mid-1960's. To the right of that (not pictured) is where I took flying lessons in 1981 and 1982. Boarding now...

Life in the Retirement Home

The theme for this month's Birthday reception was "The Jungle." There was a performance. The dance below was performed to the tune "See Ya Later Alligator." There was also a line for snacks. It is difficult to describe how slowly a buffet line moves in a retirement center. Perhaps the picture below gives some indication, except it doesn't include the residents in wheelchairs.

Walk for the Ancestors

Meeting people. It's what I do. In this case, I met some folks in front of Whole Foods.

So I met these good folks, Caroline and Kagan Holland, on their Walk for the Ancestors. They're indigenous California indians (Tataviam Tribe) seeking to draw attention to the crimes committed against their people by the Spaniards during the colonial era. I listened to their story. I liked them. But I found their cause to be rather questionable, to be honest. They claim there was a Spanish holocaust that is not taught in schools. That's possible, I suppose, but I remain unconvinced. Devoted bloggers can judge for themselves.

http://walkfortheancestors.org/

The End of the Beginning for One, The Beginning of the End for the Other

Two old classics going in opposite directions. The car passed smog and will soon be registered. The store behind it, which was never really a store, is being liquidated. The owner is (reportedly) now unable to manage his own affairs and his heirs have taken control of the property. They are making an inventory of the contents and removing them piece by piece, as the below picture shows. Note the antique guns and ornate counters are already gone--replaced in part by the large table with piles of soon-to-be-gone treasures.

World's Safest Beach

Summer Weather in October

What Legacy?

Final curtain or a new beginning? As the smog check saga continues, the world wonders.

Brathaus

A darn fine restaurant with authentic German draft beer--including hefewiezen. Meine frau and I were sitting on the balcony across from the intersection where Alcalde and I, about forty years ago, saw a mini-riot during Old Spanish Days. 

Providence

"A Santa Barbara Christian School". With a surfing class. And a surfing van to carry the surfboards for the surfing class.

California Reality

There are things about California that make it, well, deserving of its reputation.

Like the fact that you can't get your groceries bagged. Apparently it's against the law to have bags for groceries. Yes, really. Somebody in California thinks that's a good idea.

And there are the bathrooms in public schools, which are not allowed to be segregated by gender. Somebody in California thinks that's a good idea, too. 

Ya just gotta wonder about this Somebody guy and why he's allowed to go free when he should be imprisoned for life. Or worse. Far worse. Far worse by way.

Anyway, suffice it to say that this rather distinct psychology has come into play with the MCBMMBZ. California thinks it needs a smog certificate. One might think the smog certificate indicates compliance with an emission standard, but that would be too simple (!). No, it means a lot of things and thus it is proving very difficult to register my $300 car. We'll know for sure today, but this could turn into a saga of sorts, and an expensive one, too. It might even be too expensive to justify keeping the car. The car that cost $300 and is (so far) costing at least that much to register. Stay tuned...

Tyler's Donuts

Carpinteria's best donuts. My favorite: glazed buttermilk bar "mas grande". My brother in law likes the apple fritters--just like my Dad did.

Stupidly Pathetic Creativity: The Oil Addiction Treatment Center

Can't just call it a bike shop. That wouldn't do.

Savoring Local Delicacies

Dinner Out

Featuring a nephew with ice on his head.

The MCBMMBZ At Dawn

Afternoon Loungification

Ninety degrees this afternoon. Chillaxing whilst overlooking the former location of Music Galaxy. Dinner with the hound in Goleta in about an hour. This is how vacations are supposed to be.

Santa Barbara Snapshot: Friends and Fun

California weather. California coastal beauty. California friends.

Santa Barbara Snapshot: Alcalde Thrice Burned!

I'm at Peet's and Alcalde's not.

I'm with my beautiful wife and ... Alcalde's ... not. Even married.

I have better blog photos, according to the recognized authorities on such matters.

Santa Barbara Snapshot 3: Evening

View from my sister's front porch:

View from my sister's back porch:

Studious nephew, now known as The Math Genius at his school:

Santa Barbara Snapshot 2: Peet's

It may not be as much of a sensation as...the world's largest cow...(!)...but I would suggest it's the little things that make a place a place. Perhaps even a better place. Or maybe even way, totally, toastaciously monstrongo whoopasaurus-maximus better.

Like glorious weather most of the year. More on this in future posts.

Or like West Coast coffee--something not to be taken for granted and, in its own way, something of a sensation for Those Who Know. My personal favorite, Peet's in San Roque:

Santa Barbara Snapshot 1: The Shiny Junk Heap Saga Begins

Devoted readers of this blog will remember the post from about two years ago (almost exactly) which highlighted my father's latest, and as it turns out, last Mercedes purchase. 

Well, my father is now in heaven and the Mercedes, aka The Shiny Junk Heap, is now mine. At the cost of many, or rather, several...or more accurately, a few...hundred dollars I purchased it in loving memory of my father. It was his final Mercedes, the last of a long line stretching back to the 1970's--none of which were very nice and all of which were, frankly, castaways. This one was, and is, no exception. Though completely worn out and in need of many mechanical and cosmetic repairs, it lives on in the family. It has been officially renamed the MCB Memorial MBZ:

And it runs. Almost. Barely. I think. At least I've been driving it all day today. After I got it started. 

I intend to keep it running if I can and slowly fix it up as a loving tribute to my father. I am registering it in California and will keep it at my sister's house to use when I visit. Every visit I will fix a little more until it's nice again.

At least, that's the plan. The first step is getting it registered. And that is proving more complicated than expected. Stay tuned, devoted blog follower.

Sitting in LAX

It's official.

Fort Eustis, VA

'Nuff said.

Mr. and Mrs. Holmer

Motorcycles, Motorcycles Everywhere in the Black Hills

Mount Rushmore

Little Bighorn

Wedding Day

Sitting In A Holiday Inn Express at Gillette, Wyoming

The Crazy Man and His Resort

I had been hearing quite a bit about The Crazy Man. He jumps his motorcycle into the bay off a ramp through a ring of fire:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gGxEsMckbGo

I noticed someone who looked crazy at the wedding reception. I went up to him and asked him if he was The Crazy Man. He said he was. Today he invited us to tour his resort.

I asked our new friend how he gets the flaming ring. He says it's easy. You just wrap shop towels around the iron ring and douse them with lighter fluid. Of course.

Wedding Day Snapshots

Jose dressed in black. And looking terrific.