2010-The Year in Review with an Image a Month

 *Late Edit:Mike Garzon took the August picture of my sliced open foot with my eye phone.  Sorry for any misrepresentation.   

 January-The year starts off with the Ian Foyster Memorial Ride and the Great Holey Knee.  Important safety tip: When descending over land on a cross-bike, focus on the terrain 3 to 10 meters out in front of your line, not on the mad skills of the fixed geared rider ahead of you. 

February-Iran in Charlotte is where I met Nasrin and her amazing group spreading awareness about the human rights abuses being committed by the Islamic Republic of Iran. 

March-Yu Sebata from Chima Japan rolls through the Jar after leaving Los Angeles a month earlier.  Yu knew some English and did his best to translate the Japanese word for Bicycle,  Self Pedaling Car.

April-On Tax Day, The Tea Bag Party rallies on the front lawn of the old Mecklenburg County Courthouse.  Check here for the full Tea Bag pictorial.  This image is the most telling one I made during my Tea Bag Transfer.  It is quite interesting, the small nuances lead one to consider our now and the progress everyone keeps talking about. 

May-How could we forget May? It was the month that I went into the wrist irons shortly after arriving on the scene of my Rookie's 'accident'.  Less than a few hours before that while shooting the NRA Convention I was reunited with SSGT Karnes, an ole Marine buddy from Golf Company 2/4, The Magnificent Bastards.  We had not seen each other since June of 1991. For the Courtroom Verdict read here, it is a great story.  This is the only shot of the bunch(other than the one of my cut foot) that I did not take myself.  Photo Cred: James Wilamor, CLTBlog. 

June-Let the cloud emotion transfer commence. 

July-Seriously, I get side tracked easily, especially when I look up.

August-Pain is temporary, chicks dig scars and the glory remains forever.  Honestly, I am well aware that every physical pain is directly connected to an emotional imbalance.  This wound to my foot is a perfect example of that energy truth. photo taken by: Mike Garzon, aka Little Mikey and the Gracious Garzon. 

September-My favorite image of the year.  Mein Schatz's eye in natural light with the old 55mm manual lens and its beautiful macro focus. 

October-Hate He, come on Dude, you have had to of thought of that one prior to now.  Haiti in October and the learning it generated.  Thanks to all of you that a felt an internal need to share add vice and 'con' scern, I will never forget how those words and tacit innuendos helped me better understand the world around me.    

November-St. Lissa assists on her 7th birth(there have been three more since) and earns full fledged Doula Certification.  Yay, for her and the internal will she is showing to break away from the monetary attachment to the Corporate Plan of Aggression.  What she is doing is really brave, and I am happy that she has found a calling that will continue to evolve into her mobile livity source. 

December-I had the honor to spend a few hours one night at the home of Jwaye and her 3 year old Chocolate Lab, Magoo.  The photo session went well and the transfer was documented. 

Christmas Follow Up-WE DID NOT HAVE A WHITE CHRISTMAS!

On the day after Christmas, in the evening, I walked out of the house with Zoo dummy corded to my waist with a seven foot leather strap choke lead.  We were gone in the five inch plus and drift for just under three hours.  It really seemed winter for that time.  The air was cold, around freezing and the sky was trying hard to be clear of clouds. Towards the west I could see breaks in the dark overcast and the sky behind was turning not only dark blue, but as well shades of pink, red and almost turquoise.  Through the holes in the clouds only, the sky appeared on fire.  Hardly any notice of the auto viper, everyone must have been hunkered down.  Of the amazing things that I met and passed, the one that was most noticeable was the lack of folks outside.  In the picture below you will see what Christmas might look like under a Caesium(CS) explosion sky.  More candy canes, they are everywhere.  An anonymous angel left one dangling from my Answer Alumilite handle bars while I was in one of the buildings on Thursday right before Christmas Break.   Candy canes, where does such a strange shaped and minty tasting treat come from anyways?

During my travels today I over heard several conversations about the magic of our 'white' Christmas.  At one point someone directly asked me, "What did you think of our 'white' Christmas?"  After instantaneously considering giving the standard expected answer, I went with my instinct and shot back, "Technically, I do not think that the North American Meteorological School of Science(if there is actually one) would consider supporting the claim that Charlotte had a 'white' Christmas. Basically I explained to my questioner that I understood that the qualifying factors to be able to claim 'white' Christmas status were as follows:  The landscape has to be covered with one inch or more of snow in the entire county in which you dwell by midnight Christmas Day.  From my twelve o'clock at night perspective on Jesus' birthday out here east of town, the landscape in spots still had just a dusting, maybe a quarter inch.  I went on for a few minutes defending my stance that we did not have a 'white' Christmas at all, by explaining that from the looks of the radar that night south east Charlotte may have had even less snow than the rest of the county at that time.  When I finished pretty much proving by the books that our Christmas was far from 'white', I realized that I had lost the man who had asked the original question to begin with minutes and sentences ago.  He finally spoke, never getting up from his chair, "So, we didn't have a 'white' Christmas, did we?"  All I could do was nod in affirmation as I left the room with two more jobs than I had before walking in.

Work/School Day Off

Bright White Pastoral Transfer, all along the way while walking 5.6 miles in the snow burdened woods. Ms. Arcen and Botzie(if you haven't seen his new place on the web, be sure to click here it includes new, never viewed before video from the Himalayas far, far away) walk up the slight rise completely blown out hot in a digital test exposure with the old 55mm.   

Shortly after tasting the cake marked: EAT ME, Ms. Arcen leads Himalayan Photographer Jeff Botz through the winter woods. 

From behind I watched and moved as Rommel, the boar hunting Dane gets scent of a pig, and takes off to the front for a closer smell. 

Poor TWIT looks on with jealous dismay as the big dog enjoys his well earned freedom.  Zoo is mischievous and cannot be trusted off lead, I doubt she ever will be. 

Success, the big dog makes an on the fly pass around our guide, the Giantess. 

Rommel and Mein Schatz forge on through a dark wind blown tree top snowing section of the forest under an azure sky.

When I said, "Freeze", I stepped backwards without looking and fell over a snow covered log landing flat on my ass.  This was the looks on their faces.

Photo of Winter Daughter, with Rommel and Zoo out of frame attached to the bamboo holding Dad courtesy of Jeff Botz. 

More Christmas

Seeing that it started before Halloween, Christmas should stick around awhile after the big day.  On an evening walk with Zoo, I saw many interesting things including the bothersome and somewhat attractive candy cane lights above, snow and an owl in flight directly above my head.  The transfer from day to night was quiet, hollow and echo dense sounding, like winter cold.  Vultures.

Picture of the Week: Jwaye to The World

From left to right:  Magoo & Jwaye

To lock, or to only give the illusion one is locked: that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to fall lazy
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take knives and asps against the streets of troubles,
And by faking, end them? To get jacked: To be robbed;
No more; and by being robbed we say end
The heart-ache and the Soma
That messengers are heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To get jacked, to be robbed;
To be robbed: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that robbery of bike what dreams may come
When we have rode off this mortal coil,
Must give us still track stand: there's the respect

That makes calamity of so long a rookie;
For who would bear the pokes of the blog and scorns of more seasoned couriers,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's insulting display,
The pangs of stolen machine, the law's delay,
The insolence of a veteran bike rider and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,

When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare Brooks Saddle(one of the 19 serviceable ones he owns)? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a heavy bag,
But that the dread of something after bicycle gone,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No messenger returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills on foot or in the car
Than ride to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience does make lazy of us all;
And thus the veteran hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And VeloCity Bicycle Couriers of great pride in what they do
With this regard their competition turn awry,
And lose the name of giving a rat's ass - Soft you now!
The fair Swazey! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my jovial jabs remember'd.

*Shakespeare your language blows my mind.
*Inspiration for toonday's post derived from Hamlet 3/1

And Further more, I was contacted today by a nice fellow in Indianapolis whom linked over from TEAM DICKY's world famous dot com and read the story about the Laptop Round Up for the Real.  If you haven't seen this picture of me you may get a hoot, Where the Wild Bills Are...ha, ha, ha.  Like Jerry Reed says, "Anyhoo",  Bill Williams from the great state of Indiana first let me know about one laptop he had, then within hours he discovered another one that he did not know he had bringing his donation to 2 machines.  That brings toonday's total to what appears to be 9 Laptop computers donated to the new/used computer lab at the primary school in Babancourt.  This drive still has plenty of time to exceeded the classroom goal of 15 machines.  Any amount over those 15 would be great to deliver and as well would give the 30 child class back ups.

Thanks for your support and please help spread the word and stay vigilant, you never know if someone close to you has an extra machine for the cause, all you have to do is ask...

'B' Log Sunday Brunch Post

Meet the Principal of the school in Babancourt and his wife, one of the teachers of the children who will be receiving the donation of Laptops raised during the Traffic Stop's Laptop Round Up for the Real. 

Here are the kids that will benefit from your donation entering the schoolhouse that the computers will be used in. 

They are also the proud parents of Carl, a five year old whom I met earlier in the day on the dirt track into Babancourt.  Carl also attends the school where his parents work with about 200 other children from the area.  Actually, meeting Carl on the way into Babancourt is an interesting story that helps to affirm how meeting someone in another nation not chosen with eye contact regardless of the language difference can be an education for both humans. 

Pastor Lyonel was behind the wheel of his big white Chevy king cab 4 x4, and Pastor Dupree and his wife were sitting close to each other behind me as we turned right off of the hardball road onto the dirt track that led to Babancourt.  The wide path was lined lush green with palm trees, tall grasses, thick vines and an occasional tall leafed hardwood.  Roughly a mile in I started seeing small sturdy houses set back ten to twenty meters off of the road.  There were no driveways for cars not owned leading to these little homes, just open space or a narrow foot paths cut through the green on the edge of the road.  Houses built small with design that fits the need.  Both block and wood foundations raised off of the dark earth floor in case of flooding from the close by mountains during the rainy season which comes every year.  Open windows without screen or glass, and small porches for sitting on almost every house.

All of a sudden the truck stopped quickly and unannounced in front of a modest dwelling some twenty meters off to my right.  Pastor Lyonel yelled a friendly morning greeting to the Grandmother standing and waving back to us on the elevated porch.  The way she was standing almost completely blocked my view of the open front door.  She was smiling and still waving just as someone small from around her skirt appeared making his way to the wood plank stairs that led down to the ground.  Now he was running directly for us in his little khaki and green public school uniform shouting, "Paste' Lyonel, Paste' Lyonel."

This little fellow of no more than five years old must have recognized the familiar truck of the Pastor, but the sight of me he could not place.  His run stopped quickly turning into a frozen stare at the thickly bearded white man he had never seen before in the Pastor's truck just a few feet from him.  Lyonel made the informal introductions and I leaned down sticking out my hand to shake Carl's, the primary school kid looking wide eyed back up at me.  Carl's tiny hand slowly met my mine with a gentle shake, and then he ran off on down the road in the same direction we were headed. 

A few hours later after getting an overland hiking tour of the 40 acre parcel owned by the church, Pastors Lyonel and Dupree led me down the dirt road to see the large school building supporting the village.  When we arrived all of the children and teachers were out in the sandy yard about to end a morning recess.  We watched as the bells rang and the kids assembled in an orderly fashion to reenter the schoolhouse.  While I was preoccupied taking pictures, the young Principal of the school came over and immediately started talking to Pastor Lyonel in a language that I did not understand but could hear and just as importantly feel.  Lyonel burst out into laughter, something up until that point I wasn't sure if he was capable of.  I asked him to please tell me what was so funny because now both he and the Principal were laughing in my direction.

Lyonel started by asking me if I remembered that little boy Carl, whom I had met earlier.  "Of course I do", I answered.  "Well", Lyonel explained, " Carl is the son of the Principal and one of the teachers here at the school.  When Carl came to class this morning he found his mom and dad right away to report that there was a bearded white man in the village and his hands are soft, like powder."  That is pretty funny, I thought to myself as Lyonel introduced me to the smiling Principal and his wife.  I recon it is rare that the children of this village some 50km north of PAP and off the beaten path get to see someone from America, especially someone as soft as me.


Now is our chance to help those kids out by getting them the hardware that they need to start up a computer learning lab that presently does not exist in the Babancourt School.  As of today, it looks as if the Laptop Round Up for the Real has received the commitment of  7 Laptop computers being donated by five individuals in position to help.  My goal is 15 and there is still just over three weeks left in the drive, so please keep your ears and eyes open for the project.  Like Tab says, "This is an easy one to get behind."

If you have any questions or comments please feel free to get in touch with me and thanks for being part of something authentic.