There's an App For That

It was a moonless night in late summer and I was stretched out on the path near our campsite, just beyond the canopy of the trees where I had an uninterrupted view of the sky. We were at Tuolumne Meadows, high above the Yosemite Valley floor, a place that, in the daylight, would seem more closely related to the surface of the moon than to the vast forests and meadows and waterfalls that lay sweltering in the valley below.

The closest actual structure (unfortunately the bathroom) was ¼ mile away, so after the campfires started dying away, I could easily imagine that there was no light between me and the stars, and I had never seen so many in a single sky. I kept having the vision of a small girl with a bottle of glitter in one hand and a bottle of sequins in the other, throwing them up against black velvet. In some places they lay so thickly you couldn’t tell one from the other. In others, they were much more spread out, but not a single portion of velvet was left unadorned.

And, although the moon was not up, the stars and planets themselves were bright enough that I had a dim appreciation for what it must have been like in Galileo’s time, when the sky was dark enough that Venus cast a shadow on the earth. As I lay there, I felt no more than a speck in the cosmos, as small and far away from everyone on Earth as those stars were from me, completely alone and yet content.

For the past couple of weeks, Mars has hung like a ruby in the Eastern sky, a more vivid red than I can recall seeing it. Naturally, I had to look it up and, on January 27, Mars was the closest it had been to the Earth in almost two years. I mention this because, when I have to take Kairos out at night, I’m often caught for a moment or 10, mesmerized by the astral display and curious as to whether anyone I know is looking at exactly the same place at just that moment.

I don’t know the names of all of the constellations, just that I can lose myself looking for them and at them. And I like knowing that, right now—this actual moment—Saturn has risen, chasing the moon and Mars, all following my Gemini constellation. And I don’t even have to take the dog out or try to see through the clouds because, guess what? There’s an app for that: Planets 1.6 for the iPhone.

Blogging: Help or Hinderance in the Job Search?

So I've been thinking about going back to work. To an actual "in-house" (as in, "out of my house") job. Truth be told, I'm beyond the "thinking about" stage and even past the "going on an interview" stage. That's right, I already did it: my first interview in six years. It went as well as you might expect, with little flakes of rust and wisps of dust flying here and there.

If I can remember back that far, job interviews are like first dates:

Pre-date jitters? Check
Worried about saying the wrong thing? Check
Afraid they'll Google you and read your blog? Ok, so that one hadn't come up before (my last "first date" was 11 years ago).

But what to do when you write a blog that, because of its personal nature--not to mention the occasional typo--is bound to offend some prospective employers? Over the past year I've written about the girls, the dog, the dog spelled backwards, the war in Iraq, the current administration, hockey, selling a house, buying a house, landscaping, girly girls, the mommy wars, my first visit to Yosemite, traveling with small children, BlogHer, the 2006 Nobel Peace prize, farting dogs, the Panoz Esperante GT, a plea for donations for Charlotte's school and a host of other topics.

Blog For Jobs, a site for people who, well, blog for jobs, says that "blogs can give employers insight into a person’s writing ability and how one thinks." But they also go on to quote experts who opine that, to use your blog in your job search, "it’s critical to focus your topics on your industry and highlight what you know." By that logic, one might think that I'm pretty much screwed.

But I'm a writer (please note: not an expert proofreader). I used to make a living exclusively as a copywriter, but I've branched out. The blog is already out there, so if I'm Googled, well, there it is. Hopefully, prospective employers would use it to get an idea of my writing ability and not hold my opinions against me. Besides, the blog also showcases some of the things one might not put on a resume: mild sarcasm and a good sense of humor come to mind.

Back to Nature

This past weekend we decided to explore a bit more of our new home state with a trip to Yosemite. "Wow!" doesn't quite cover it, but it's the thing I kept hearing from my mouth. C'mon! I know more words than that--some of them were even on the SAT (gulp) 19 years ago. But "Holy crap," the other phrase that came to tongue, seemed sacrilegious and it's not something I want Hannah to be saying to her grandparents in a couple of weeks--or to perfect strangers, for that matter. And, let's see: Hannah's first word was "clock" sans the "l." Might start to look bad if Charlotte's first word turned out to be "HolyCrap!"

We left home around noon on Saturday, arriving on the valley floor around 5:30. This left us just enough time to do a drive by of the highlights and go racing through the Visitors Center shop in search of the restrooms. And by "racing through," I mean "dragging Hannah by one arm as she tried to grab something, anything, from the shelves. She just couldn't live without the foam deer visor. Unless she got the lolly pop instead. Or the stickers. How about a mug? OOOO--snow globes!" After successfully navigating that obstacle course, we were off to the hotel, just a short hour and 20 minutes away. Charlotte expressed her immense appreciation of the passing scenery and winding roads by vomiting all over herself. Ah, good times.

Our first full day in the park, Hannah proved once again that she is a natural mountain climber, preferring to leap from rock to rock to rock, ignoring the gasps, one delighted, one not so much. Put her in a stroller and she whines and cries to get out. She'd rather walk? Great--out you go! But no, after maybe twenty feet, it was:

"How's about you pick me up?"

"What??"

"How 'bout you carry me?"

Ah, repetition and rephrasing. The toddler version of yelling a question at non-English speakers.

When we finally stopped for our picnic lunch, Charlotte was so happy to be out of the stroller that she struggled to get down from my arms to better peruse the menu options. She spurned the daily special of french bread, brie, fruit and turkey, in favor of the house specialties: First a little sand, followed by the small pile of leaves, with fresh pine cones as the main course and a bit more sand to finish it off.

Travel Tips:
*When traveling with small children, it's always best to choose a hotel that offers something entertaining for them, too. A pool, a playground, small insects: Did I forget to mention the ants? (Have I also mentioned that I am not what one might call "high-maintenance?" Sure, I appreciate 300+ thread-count sheets as much as anyone, but it's not a necessity. Warm, dry, in-room bathroom and not sleeping on the ground. Works for me. )

* Take your own baby bedding. Rustic is one thing, but Baby by Burlap crib sheets are another matter entirely.

*Don't leave the box of donut holes on the counter. Even if the box is unopened. "Why are the sprinkles moving?" is not what you want to hear first thing in the morning.

* Take a night light. Hannah won't sleep with the light off. Charlotte won't sleep with it on. So, forget the night light and you may find that your music options for the evening are a choice between KWHinE and WSHrieK. Both available in stereo for your listening pleasure!

* Don't stop watching their faces. The utter joy of a child who is allowed to climb rocks, splash in puddles, paddle in a lake and eat pine cones is truely one of the wonders of the world.