What is more, no attempt to reason calmly and clearly ever counteracts such emotion blindness.
Emotional fervor, like a wildfire, just has to burn itself out. Now this can be very discouraging to anyone who harbors expectations of humanity acting differently (i.e., better than other animals). Trying to shoehorn the real world into ones’ idealized world (how it ‘should be’ ) is not only futile, it add fuel to the fire.

Harboring expectations in itself is an emotion driven bias. So surely, true impartiality is a super-human impossibility. In fact, I suppose not even God (in the Christian sense anyway) is capable of impartiality. ‘He’ is on the side of the Good, right? It is a no win situation; it is no wonder that Mother Theresa had such a hard time. On the bright side, I have found that looking for mysterious sameness is the next best thing, and it is doable. All you need to do is see yourself as no different that any other animal on the planet. Ah, but that can be such a blow to the ego! I suppose that is why we often prefer the path of self righteousness. It feels easier, but just as eating lots of cake feels easier, the long-run consequences are otherwise.

As you may know, when we play music on the mall, we play for charity. I was never warm to the idea, mainly ’cause I like money. However, now, the fun of playing on the mall is watching the people go by and giving stink eyes to the folks who just put in a dime (for charity to boot) or dump their penny purses into our charity bag. So, yeah, not by watching the money go in.

Anyway, recently, Mama’s been having a month+ long migraine and thus, playing bass with a booming banjo, high pitched mandolin and a foghorn for vocals wasn’t exactly the cup of tea the doctor ordered. So, being out of commission, Luke and I tried doing some stuff down there: Irish fiddle, old time fiddle tunes, shamisen. However, after a few times, we had a problem. Simply put, Luke didn’t like playing shamisen and I didn’t like playing old time fiddle tunes (’cause they get boring after 5 minutes). Irish fiddle was “ok” but without the rest of the ensemble, the Irish tunes just sound like a *umph*-less series of notes. (which may be the same as shamisen, but since you can get a lot of arm power with the bachi, there is plenty of umph)

The average amount we made for each genre was around $15/hour. Then we tried something new. Papa came down with us to join in on guitar. Immediately, results improved as we started pulling in $45 per hour (which still wasn’t even close to our charity haul. . . none of which we kept mind you!). With this new format, where we kept the money, we decided to use it to eat out after we played. However, after a few times, Papa had the idea of “rolling over” the earnings to the end of the week to do some fine dining, rather than a sandwich (both of which would be delicious in my book).

So, at the end of the week, we played on the mall and afterward, after counting up $45 to add to the other $50, we headed down to 99 Bottles to spend our loot. When we got there, it looked very crowded so we decided to go back home, put away our instruments, freshen up (whatever that means) and come back. So, that’s what we did.

25 minutes later, we went back. It looked just as filled as before, so we inquired with the receptionist/hostess. she said they brought out some more servers ‘n all so a table might show up soon. We decided to go somewhere else so we left 99 Bottles. Luke warned that we should stay in line because we’d probably get a seat soon. We left anyway.

We walked around the mall a bit. After taking a gander at the other eateries on the mall, we decided that 99 Bottles was the place to go so we went back. There was a short line. Man! We should’ve just stayed and waited!.. or so we thought. As we were standing there wondering what to do, the hostess looked at us and said, “There’s a spot over there about to open up if you just wait a little bit more.” Man, it was almost as if we never left!

I couldn't find any pictures of us eating at 99 Bottles, so pretend this candid snapshot of Costco sample dining is a fine eatery.

So kids, the secret here is, if you’re going to a restaurant with a line, make your presence known to the person in charge, and then you can leave and do whatever you want (for a short period of time) and have your “ghost” hold your place for you.

Wednesday, March 11th, 2009.

[click any image to make it larger]

I was in our front room, drafting an email, when I heard terrific noise from the street. It was the unmistakable sound of a car collision. I lept from my computer to the open window to seek out the source. As I was jumping up, my first thought was, “Gosh, what a terrible parker,” but then the sound of an engine at high RPM registered in my brain. This was something more.

I should pause the story to mention something. You know how the human body releases a surge of adrenaline when faced with a potentially fight-or-flight situation? Not only do heart and breathing rates increase, but a flood of other physiological changes manifest, including heightened senses, blood vessel dilation, and inhibition of the digestive system. Well, another fascinating reaction to certain stressful situations is that the brain “speeds up”—which is why you hear people say “everything was in slow motion” or “so many thoughts went through my head all at once.” Well, I was flushed with adrenaline, which explains the amount of thinking I was able to pack into about ten seconds.

When I reached the window, I looked up the street about 100 feet and could see an SUV plowing into the car in front of it and stubbornly pushing it down the street. I was reminded of an incident many years ago, where someone suffered a stroke as they were pulling out of a parking space; blue smoke was everywhere as the sedan pushed into the car in front of it, moving very slowly. A brave neighbor pulled the person out and stopped the car. I wondered if something similar was happening here.

This is the car that was hit first. (It, in turn, hit the car in front of it.)

I was about to leave the window and rush outside, but then the SUV changed course. It veered left, running across the street, narrowly missing a parked car on the other side. It then jumped the curb, plowing through a two-foot brick-and-dirt wall like it was a sand castle.

And it kept going, glancing off the next house’s porch… and flying straight toward my late grandmother’s house. I contemplated the fact that if it had enough momentum to launch itself over that wall, perhaps it could take down part of the house. I’ve seen pictures of that kind of thing happening. But the dirt in the front garden was so soft that once the SUV landed, it just skidded forward a couple feet (destroying the banister on the front steps) and sank into the dirt. It was done.

I think my first thought after that was, “call 911.” Either that or, “Is there any way this thing could catch fire?” Either way, it wasn’t going to explode, and I saw that two bystanders were already dialing their cell phones.

My next thought was, “Camera?” And I almost got it, but somehow that felt irresponsible. I felt like I should rush out there—but then again, the folks in the next house (who lost their fence) were already on the scene, and I had already determined that the danger was past. It was quite a dilemma, and I went back and forth for all of three seconds (which was a long time in my super-man state, remember).

By this time, Mama walked into the room, and I briefly explained the situation on my way out the door.

Just think; Papa sometimes gardens right here in the evening. What a chilling thought.

The folks in the gray house (412 Lincoln) offered to help the driver, but she climbed out, insisting she was OK and to leave her alone. Then she walked away, clearly freaking out and in shock.

And thus began an hour and a half of the whole neighborhood gathering around, talking and sharing information or theories as to what happened.

Several minutes after the accident, a neighbor pointed out that the car was still on, so I carefully climbed around the hood to turn it off. The rear wheels were still spinning in a cavity of dirt. Opening the driver-side door, I reached around the airbag, found the key, turned off the car, and then took a few seconds to soak in as many visual details of the interior as I could.

On the floor, I could see two colorful, slip-on women’s shoes. The right one was lodged between the accelerator and the center column. Ah ha!

I later learned that she started accelerating a block up the street, pushing that first car forward about 30 feet. I figure she hit it at such a high speed that her airbag had doubtlessly been deployed, rendering her car uncontrollable as it careened across the street and into our yard(s).

This is why everyone should have auto insurance.

Following is a video showing the scene and the removal of the SUV.

You’re gaining credibility… but in the opposite direction.
—A frustrated Kyle, addressing Mama who had him walk from his computer to hers to help her find a computer file… which was right in front of her.

[Humor Alert: it's supposed to look like I'm banging my head against the wall!]

The challenge of helping the technologically challenged...

Notice the Blog Board behind Janette! - Kyle

In early July, our whole family was treated to a visit by the wonderful O’Brien family. We first connected after we were on Trading Spouses. They too were on the show (a different episode). They emailed us and we stayed in contact. This was our first time meeting. We connected so well. It is so refreshing to see a family so happy together. It truly warmed my heart. Like us, they home-schooled, have a family band, have a son named Kyle who plays mandolin (I still say they were trying to copy me – Kyle). We had a blast. We rarely vacate, so it was like a vacation right here. We played music together, went out to eat, went to the beach and Boardwalk and just hung out.

We decided to have a Poker Night. The O’Briens sweetened the pot by bringing a grocery bag full chips, candy and pop. We don’t have chairs and our rooms are not very big so I was wondering how we would actually make it happen physically. But it just came together. I rolled our low round kitchen table into the play room. We all sat on the floor and the game was on.

I’ll be honest. I don’t know a royal flush from the sound heard from the loo at Buckingham Palace. And mind you, this is the first time we’ve played for real money. Yours truly did have a little Lady Luck on her side. I didn’t lose the pig but I didn’t win the farm either. That was left to the Five Card Stud-ette, Janette, who knew just what she was doing. She raked in chip after chip as we ate chip after chip. Maybe she had something up her sleeve. Hmm… Dan, her husband, is a gifted story teller. He probably tried to distract us by making us laugh.

There were a few etiquette issues. Our Kyle has a dealing style that can annoy people. When he deals he deals one pile at a time. {Kyle’s Interjection: Well, Because I shuffle the cards 10 times if not more, what’s the point of just dealing one card at a time? It’s much easier and more efficient to deal all the cards to each person in one pass. I don’t see what the fuss was about – Kyle}. Well that wasn’t going to go here. And I sometimes forgot to put my cards above the table. That didn’t fly either.

We played Texas Hold’em, Indian Poker, Five Card Draw and BlackJack, which I do know. I think my favorite game is Indian poker (something is probably politically incorrect here). You hold your card on your forehead so that you can’t see it but everyone else can. Then we played 5 Card Indian poker where you do that with your whole hand.

I’m getting ready for my next game. I’ve got may ace duct taped to my forehead.

]]> http://www.abbottfamilyblog.com/2008/08/08/poker-night-with-the-obriens/feed 4 http://www.abbottfamilyblog.com/2008/08/04/first-improv http://www.abbottfamilyblog.com/2008/08/04/first-improv#comments Mon, 04 Aug 2008 15:21:39 +0000 Kyle Abbott http://www.abbottfamilyblog.com/?p=409

Last year, Luke took an improv course at cabrillo college to, you know, meet babes. Anyway, he enjoyed that and so did his fellow students. So much so, that during the summer, they held improv “training” at our house. It was a little odd hearing all the loud screams, elephant imitations, and thumps emanating from downstairs. The neighbors didn’t really seem to mind, even though they were plenty aware of it.

Anyway, Luke kept saying that I should join him down there, since it was free and at our house, so there was nothing to lose. Well, I didn’t want to go, because earlier that year, I was already forced into going to a free improv workshop (where everyone there was going through a mid-life crisis). My beef with improv is that most of the people doing it aren’t even trying to be funny. (if you don’t try to be funny, what’s the point? Why not just live life?) It seems most try to coast by doing serious scenes (which are apparently easier to do than funny scenes). If they do try to connect their dislocated funny bones, they try to humor it up by “freakin’ out.” Gobbling like a chicken, shaking their limbs like an electrocuted frog, and mussing up their hair. Where’s the humor there? Where’s the wit? That’s not humor. That’s just embarrassing. That’s the same with the warm-ups (another reason “formal” improv isn’t on my Top Ten). It seems in warming up “improv style”, you have to shake it out and let out your animal spirit. Most of the improvers spirit seem to be yelping hyenas. Well, when spending a day at the Native American amusement park/casino, for only 10 bucks, I found out that my animal spirit was a leopard (either that, or a sloth). Leopards keep their cool, are silent, and strike swiftly, humor dripping from their teeth. That conflicts with shaking uncontrollably and getting all wild.

I rest my case...

Aaanywho, Pa said that maybe if I did something that Luke wanted to do, maybe he would do something I wanted to do, which was throat singing. He said the same thing when I refused to go to the free improv workshop, to play fiddle tunes and go dancing with him, and guess what? He still hasn’t done any throat singing with me!

Anyway, so, once again, I got shamed into going down. However, the problem was that before they started doing improv, they would warm up by talking. You know, “What’s up?” “How’s your sister?” “Remember that funny thing that happened last week?” Since I was not in the group, melting into the conversation wasn’t the most bearable. I told Luke that I’d come back once they all started improving. He said chatting with them was necessary ’cause if I didn’t, they wouldn’t know me and it wouldn’t work. Also said, if I wanted to improv with them, I had to participate for the whole deal (3+ hours) or else leave. Well, that wasn’t a hard decision.

It wasn’t just trying to blend with the crowd that was hard. They were such a tight group, that once one person started just one hint of a game, they all were tuned in and joined. Me, not knowing a French Scene from a Helping Hands, wasn’t too encouraged. So I left.

A few months later, Luke was improving downstairs with 4 other people when he found out that two of them had colds. So he respectfully asked them to hit the road. So, with only two other improvers plus himself, there was a shortage. So he came upstairs and asked me to join. Pa said again that if I didn’t go, I’d be wuss (which sounded more philosophical the way he said it, but it was about the same). I was a bit more into going this time, because they were doing audio-only improv, which meant you didn’t have to do any weird improv-like body convulsing (which many improvers seem to like to do -see top image). However, this time, I stayed out until they were done doing their warm-up chat. Then I joined in.

It was good. I’m willing to admit it. Particularly because the two other improvers had a good sense of humor which kept the scenes funny (that’s the thing, most people like to do serious emotion-wridden scenes because they’re easier than humorous scenes). And another thing, more importantly, it worked just fine even though I didn’t join in the warm up chat! Ho! So there!

So without further adieu, here’s one snippet from our little quartet.

What could it be?

Yay!!! Cookies!!!!!

OK, down to business…

Our thanks to loyal Abbott Family Blog reader Toni from Houston! We’re touched! Your cookies are gone, but not forgotten.

For as long as I can remember, there have been two super-tall palm trees near the cliff overlooking Cowell Beach in Santa Cruz. Well, a few months ago one of the ‘palm tops’ vanished. That right there is a 100% genuine, unedited picture. Yet, it looks kinda fake, eh? In fact, it would be so trivial to remove one of the palm tops in photoshop; I mean, dead-easy. It almost looks “photoshopped” when seen with the naked eye, it’s cut so cleanly. Reminds me of a certain comic:

Just took this picture from our roof. No danger for us down here near the coast, but seeing that cloud is a bit spooky. And this is literally only a fourth of the amount of smoke that was there three hours ago. Hoping our neighbor’s house in Bonny Doon isn’t taken by the fire.

Did you remember seeing in the 1984 Olympics in Cherry-evo the cherry pit spitting competitions? They were awesome. But it comes to us now that some competitors may have had an untold advantage and it wasn’t steroids.

We found out this week. Our cherry tree is loaded with cherries- our biggest crop ever. We had a pit spit off. Kyle, who is strong as an ox and fit as Arnold, though warmed up, his tongue posed a problem pertaining particularly to pit power. He can’t curl his tongue! It’s genetic. Luke and I can and therefore reigned.

Perhaps at the next Olympics they should have two groups: those who can curl and those who can’t. If you’ve every watched “curling” in the Olympics with the guys sweeping the ice to propel their stone to the goal you may find tongue curling and pit spitting even more hair raising, edge of your seat exciting. Be there. Next event is Pitts-burg then it’s 2008 Bing-jing Olympics or Bust!

My oh my, look at that dish! I’ll eat it all and still be hungry”¦ but not so hungry that I’ll need to eat more. This dish is only about 200 calories, give or take, so it probably looks like it is more fattening than it is. Here’s the recipe:

• 2 corn tortillas — 120 calories
• 1 large sliced tomato — 20 calories
• 2 tbsp. parmesan — 40 calories
• 2 tbsp. pinto beans — 20 calories
• Jalapeños pepper slices — calories negligible
• Garlic salt — calories negligible

—–

Optional:

Mushrooms, onions, green or red peppers – calories negligible

Herbs (oregano, basil, pepper, etc) – calories negligible

Place in toaster oven until tortillas are crisy and then eat slowly so as not to burn your tongue. Follow this with a like hot jug of my ‘lemon and green tea especial’.

Enjoy!
—Carl

Beware, owners of those plasma-dome thingies: I just discovered how to fry my own flesh with one.

If you’ve never played with a plasma globe before, the basic idea is that there’s a glass sphere* with a partial vacuum and a central electrode inside. When driven by a high-frequency, high-voltage AC current, ribbons of plasma reach out to the sides of the globe. Bringing a conductive object (such as one’s own hand) near the glass “attracts” the purple ribbons of light toward whatever it is. A slight warmth can be felt emanating from the dome after a short while. In a nutshell… cool!

Now, if you just barely touch your finger to the globe, you can hear a buzzing sound from the electricity that is arcing between the small gap of air between your finger and the glass. Look closely and you can see:

Isn’t that neat? It starts to sting slightly after a long while, but barely. Being the curious type, I started touching other objects to the glass to see what would happen. Predictably, it would seem that only conductive objects had any affect…furthermore, a small conductive object, like a pen clip, wouldn’t attract any filaments of plasma unless I was touching it, connecting it to my whole, 70%-water body. I then found that if I held the (plastic) pen to the globe without touching the (metal) clip, I could then touch the clip with my other hand and get some sparks from that…the clip was the new electrode! Cool! Hey… what’s that smell?

Turns out that concentrating the output of the globe onto the tip of a pen clip isn’t necessarily such a good idea. It took me awhile to realize it, but for some reason this arcing — which was orange now (cool!!!) — was burning my skin. And I have the burn marks to prove it!**

Being the experimenter that I am, I was contemplating wrapping a sheet of aluminum foil around the globe and seeing what would happen, but having researched plasma globes for this story, I’m satisfied that it would have the desired effect of being even more dangerous, enough that I won’t do it.