It’s a bird. It’s a plane.
It’s the MetLife blimp!
We walked the 1.7mi or so down to Postrio for a 7p dinner so we could use a gift certificate we placed the winning bid on at a non-profit event last June. The certificate was good for a chef’s tasting menu for two. We splurged on the wine pairing with the meal and were well into dinner when I felt my chair give a shake.
“Earthquake,” I said to his nibs. He nodded.
My chair shook again. “A good earthquake,” I said. He nodded again.
My chair shook a third time and we looked up to see the inside of the light fixture above us begin to sway. The light fixture itself was locked in solid.
The shaking stopped and as we always do, we began to guess what the magnitude had been. I guessed a 3.2 somewhere in the near East Bay.
No one in the restaurant seemed fazed by it all. The women sitting next to us mentioned it to the waiter. “You probably just had too much to drink,” he replied.
re the magnitude Turns out I was nowhere near: the quake was a a magnitude 5.6. 5 miles NNE of Alum Rock, CA (in East San Jose, up in the hills where I grew up). 9.2 km (5.7 miles) deep. Lasted quite a while too. We didn’t feel the quake as strongly as we would’ve if the quake had been shallower.
We haven’t had anything as strong as a magnitude 5.6 in quite a while.
Hadn’t seen this at the USGS site before. His nibs says he’d seen it: it’s a relatively recent addition to their set of earthquake goodies:
Real-time Forecast of Earthquake Hazard: Maps showing the probability of strong shaking at any location in California within the next 24-hours.
The Web is a wonder.
Update: According to the Chron, the quake was the strongest since the Loma Prieta in October 1989. I thought so last night, but couldn’t find any verification for the gut feel. The Chron also quotes folks saying that this quake, which happened right where the Calaveras splits from the Hayward, might have consequences for spots further north on the fault lines. Batten down those hatches!
Driving back from the dump/Costco/TraderJoe’s fieldtrip on Tuesday, we noticed that Passage, the wonderful sculpture by Dan DasMann and Karen Cusolito, was being loaded onto a flatbed truck out in front of Pier 14.
Alas. Sorry to see Passage go, but moderately happy that at least we were able to enjoy the art piece for over four almost three times longer than the six-month installation that was originally planned.
July 2006 blogpost w/ pics. For pics only, just click on the pic above.
Update: and FINALLY! I stumbled across a photograph of the work as it was originally installed at Burning Man (while I was trying to determine whether the title was Passages or Passage) and had one of those aha! moments. Now, I get the title. …
Watching the lights go off on the Bay Bridge last night.
That blaze of lights on the other side of the Bay is the Port of Oakland, destination of most of the shipping traffic that we see from our perch.
Lights Out SF was a feel-good event that got people involved who hadn’t been involved. I’m not sure whether anyone said to themselves, dang, I can make-do with only one lamp burning at night, not the seventy-seven I turned out for an hour on Friday.
I swopped out three incandescent light bulbs with three CFLs. Consuming less energy bit by bit, but nowheres near being a cragger.
For those who can (those who have individually metered electric and have been living in their place since at least last October and who, unlike us, don’t have solar and a meter running backwards and so don’t have any way of knowing how much energy we used last October or this), you have until Wednesday to sign up for the San Francisco Climate Challenge. Challenge kicks off Thursday.
[* Journey. LIGHTS]
Interesting mashup showing San Francisco rental data: SFRentStats
And the nice thing? SFRentStats refuses advertising because it’s just mashing up Craigslist data.
Spent the day at Stanford yesterday for his nibs’ once-every-five-years reunion. As part of the program his class convened a panel of five classmates who talked about their lives since Stanford. His class has been around for a while, so there’ve been many years “since Stanford.” All the stories were interesting.
One of the panelists was a woman who’d been in the Peace Corps and then been a middle school math teacher and administrator for years. She’d “retired” from that job years ago to sign on as an international elections observer with the UN Electoral Assistance Program and other agencies. She told stories about facing your fears, of not getting paralyzed with fear when situations got dicey, of getting out of East Timor before the election results were announced, of observing elections in Macedonia and other places.
Her comment that I’d like to pass on:
A word on voting machines. From my experience observing elections worldwide, you should ALWAYS have a paper trail in case there is a need for a recount. ALWAYS.
See his nibs walk up Union.
See his nibs walk up Union and find on the sidewalk where Union crosses Grant one of the ubiquitous bits of “free” stuff you find on sidewalks in the City.
See his nibs think, oh, Sal will find this highly amusing.
See his nibs bring the sidewalk treasure home with its sign still attached.
Only in San Francisco.
And, perhaps only in San Francisco, would someone then take a picture of the free! sidewalk treasure and blog about it.
[et voila! Let me introduce you to my new Canon A570 IS. The Nikon CoolPix 5600 (purchased in November 2005 and used to take a gazillion pictures in the last two years) had been on its last legs for a while. The aperture wouldn’t close without tapping the camera against the heel of my palm multiple times, with increased force.
Finally, as of last weekend, the aperture wouldn’t close at all. The final straw was the streaks that I’d been dealing with in pictures for a while now. Usually one or two pictures in a set would have the streaks showing, but the streaks were ALL OVER MY PICTURES OF THE BLUE ANGELS.
Ahem.
Yes, soze here’s the new camera and now I have to internalize all the whizbang gadgetry until I don’t even need to think about just how exactly you set things up if you’re taking pictures of fireworks or need to take pictures (in a museum, say) without any flash. The IS (internal stabilization) should be mighty helpful.]
Soze F-Su, we had the Bixby Creek Gang in house.
Saturday, two of the gang were pre-engaged to be with friends on the WWII Liberty ship USS Jeremiah O’Brien to have a day on the water with CB Hannegan’s providing BBQ food and Blue Angels & al. as entertainment.
They left the place soon after 7A to walk down to Piers 30-32 where the JO’B was picking up passengers. Three of us walked down the steps with them to Sansome, to see them on their way and because I had a bag of greencycle to drop off in the green bin at the bottom of the steps.
After breakfast, the rest of us went down to the Ferry Building for the Farmers’ Market, then through Chinatown to check out the fruits and vegetables, then on to the rooftop of a tall building at the corner of Broadway and Laguna to watch the air show, getting there just after noon, when the Parade of Ships came into the Bay under the Golden Gate Bridge.
I’ve added Saturday’s pics to the earlier Blue Angels gallery. The smudges are still there on Saturday’s photo set (drat!) but (hooray!) we ordered a Canon A570 IS an hour or two ago with a discount coupon and free shipping. Arriving on Wednesday, if all goes well.
The first added pics show the USS Jeremiah O’Brien under way from Piers 30-32 to their staging station outside the Golden Gate for the Parade of Ships, which started at noon. A tug and one of the fire ships, spraying water, followed closely behind.
Quick cutaway to a gorgeous hawk that was circling overhead and settling in nearby trees along the Filbert Steps.
Next stream of shots are from the rooftop in Pacific Heights, showing the Parade of Ships, which included a number of American and Canadian military ships with the Jeremiah O’Brien cruising through as the finale.
The Blue Angels flew from 3-4 p.m. Photos kick in at #109/163.
Preceding them were a bunch of fast jets, helicopter search and rescue teams and acrobatic aircraft.
The pilots did amazing things with formation flying, corkscrews, climbs and dives, tearing at each other at full speed only to pull to either side just in time to whiz by, avoiding a collision. … sometimes while flying upside down!
Fun to watch, but a job I don’t aspire to. (Good thing!)
And all the while, everyday shipping traffic kept coming into and out of the Bay. We wondered what the crews thought of the action overhead.
The Coast Guard kept the hundreds of sailboats and powerboats that were out on the Bay away from certain areas and we couldn’t figure out why until at one point one of the Blue Angels buzzed so low, it created a huge wake in the waters.
Zoom! ZooM!
Crowds of people watched the action from building rooftops. The crowds down on the waterfront were enormous.
And then the day was over. We moseyed on home by way of Fort Mason, Aquatic Park, up Columbus with a stop at XOX Truffles for sustenance and home-again home-again riggety-jig.
Total day’s walk: 6 miles.
Beautiful weekend.
Sunday, the Bixby Creek Grandees joined us and a bit later one couple left. We sat around eating and talking for a while while we mulled over our options for the day: Strictly Bluegrass? Castro Street Fair? Burning Man installation?
Eventually, we walked down to the Embarcadero to catch the F-Line out to Valencia Street, but the cars going toward the Castro were packed, too packed to stop. “WHY?” we thought. “Isn’t everyone headed to the waterfront for the Sunday air show?”
We walked over to Market Street and caught the F-Line there, figuring that anyone headed in that direction was probably headed for the Ferry Building, but no, the cars were still crowded, but at least less crowded and willing to stop for the six of us.
The cars remained crowded. Sure people got off, but more people got on and the cars remained packed the entire way.
It wasn’t until just before we got off at Church and Market, and someone asked us how many more stops until Castro, that we realized that, duh, Sunday was the Castro Street Fair and everyone who wasn’t watching the Blue Angels was heading to the Castro, on the F-Line.
Our first stop was 2223 Restaurant because the niece of the wife husband of a cousin (or some such relationship) of one of the gang has her oil paintings showing at the gallery for the next two months.
After checking out the oils, we walked down to Valencia because (and the afternoon had been set up to accommodate) one of the gang had heard tell of but never been to Borderlands. We stopped on our way to Borderlands at Paxton Gate because I adore the place and like to take unsuspecting visitors there.
From Paxton Gate on to Borderlands where I bought a signed HB copy of Christopher Moore’s A DIRTY JOB — a book with characters based on some creatures you can find at Paxton Gate — and TNH’s MAKING BOOK (which I’m pretty sure I have somewhere, but I can’t find it) and the someone who had initiated the trip in the first place bought three other books and … well, then pokey-poke into shops and bookstores in the neighborhood, killing time until Destino opened.
A pair of the gang has plans to visit Machu Picchu next spring and had asked a day or two earlier whether we could recommend a Peruvian restaurant in the city. Better than that, we told them Sunday, if we’re all doing a fieldtrip out to 2223 and Borderlands, we can have dinner at Destino before we head back.
So we did.
And it was good.
And we got home and sorted out who was taking what food home, and binoculars and jackets and what-not. Get the cars out of the parking spaces. Bye-bye. And to bed for us.
I love these people. We should do this more often.
I need to get a new camera. The lens on this one is damaged in some way, cleaning doesn’t help, and, especially when you’re taking photographs of sky &c., smudges are noticeable. Alas.
Oh, and a few in the set show the new Airbus A380 airborne.
Big!
Updated: Photo set
The Blue Angels are here for Fleet Week. Scouting today, practicing tomorrow, a show on Saturday and one on Sunday, both at 3 p.m.
I was lucky enough to catch a good shot of the Diamond Formation. Two other planes have been flirting with the sky, flying crisscross over the Bay to the east then north, then back again and again. They’ve been at it for almost two hours now, distracting me from my pickup chores.
Loud.
Fast.
Reminds me of an old friend’s installation ceremony and afterblast when she became a Grand Matron of the Eastern Star years and years ago now. We were not Eastern Star or Mason, but she wanted us there, so we went. Her family was there.
“And this is my grandson Steve,” Marian said. “Steve’s in the Air Force. He flies planes. What kind of plane is it you fly, Steve?”
“An F-16, Grandma.”
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