Category: Bay Area

Minutiae, day two

Yeah, I’m really on this microscopic thang. Bear with me, it will pass.

Today’s subject of my intense scrutiny is the ticket validator machines for CalTrain.

Here’s the situation. To catch a commute on the train you gotta have a ticket to get ‘er done. Some people do single rides. You buy that day of from a machine at the station. Some people do a monthly pass. You get that in advance (or from the machines). You just flash that to the conductor and it keeps you on the train.

But for many of us, we buy a ten-ride ticket (more cost effective if you ride occasionally, not every day). So in order to get a ride, you have to punch your ticket. So to do that, you slip the ticket into the validator machine and it punches your ticket, stamps date and expiration time (four hours), and cuts off the ride number on the side.

Here, better to go visual on this. Please excuse the crappy iPhone photos.

Here’s what a ten-ride pass looks like:

Note the slots for the rides and you can see the numbers off to the side. You can see that this morning I punched off the number 5.

Here is the validator machine:

And obviously, here’s how it works:

So here’s my question. One of those “you’ve got way too much thinking time on your hands” type of deals.

What happens to all of those punched numbers? I mean, look at the machine, it’s not that big?

A LOT of people punch their tickets every day. And as evidenced by the fact that they are always out of ink, the CalTrain people don’t service the machines very often. So the punched numbers build up in there…I’m guessing.

Where do they go? I assume they stay up there in the red part, but that doesn’t seem like a lot of room.

And when they service the machine, what do they do with the little numbered punchouts? Like confetti in there?

I posed this last night to The Good Man and he patiently suggested that they save them up for the CalTrain New Year’s Eve parties.

But I really am curious. I mean, I suppose they just toss them out, but given that there are, like, 24 stations punching both northbound and southbound riders, that’s a LOT of little punched numbers. It seems like something useful could be done with all of those?

Or am I over thinking it? Don’t answer that…

Because mainly, all this ticket validator scrutiny was just me trying to distract my “no wanna go to work” mind. Succeeded, too, for a little while.

So while you too ponder little numbered confettis, here’s my “art shot”…a glance northbound up the tracks, to help get you in the pondering mood.

Weekend round up!

With photos!

I have a little Sony Cybershot camera (an older version of this one). It’s about five years old and the battery doesn’t hold a charge like it should, but I carry it around in my purse in case photographic opportunities arise. Let me tell you, this little point and shoot has served me well.

I originally bought it to go to Spring Training because it has a zoom feature on it. A little zoom helps get the better shots at something like Spring Training (I now have a 75-300 lens for my big boy camera. Now that’s some zoom!). Over the years I’ve pushed the bounds of what this little silver wonder was made to do, and it’s always stepped up. It does get a little grainy when I zoom all the way out. And doesn’t always zoom as far as I want it to, but that’s ok.

So on Sunday, we had a *gorgeous* Bay Area day, so The Good Man and I met up with some friends in San Francisco’s Marina for some lunch and then a walk in the sun.

We ended up following the path that leads to the Warming Hut at Crissy Field and ends at Fort Point under the Golden Gate Bridge.

As this area is stunningly beautiful, I, of course, brought my trusty little silver friend. Thing is, I’ve already taken a lot of shots in this area, and also, I was feeling like an oddball (which, if you know me, isn’t all that rare) and wanted to take some different shots. Plus, as the youngest of three kids with older siblings who were closer in age, I learned how to entertain my ownself early on.

Herewith, Karen’s self-entertainment for a sunny Sunday:

Here are the four of us taking a break at the Warming Hut. As you know, most people aren’t interested in having their picture taken outright, so this was my sly attempt to capture the group. That’s me on the right. The lazy tired sitting one and we were only about a quarter of the way into our walk…

And while we were there drinking water and coffee, there was another gaggle having their own gathering. “Hey, you got something to eat? A brotha sure is hungry……”

Since they were in shadow, the color is a little off, but you get the idea.

Then we moved along. I pried my heiny off the wall and the walk continued on to Fort Point.

Proof of the truly gorgeous day we had…

And again, like the yahoolio I am, the “grownups” were having conversation and what was I doing? Dorking around with my camera.

Here is a self-portrait. I like it. I think my hair looks cool. Plus, I’m gratified to see that my nose-grooming regimen appears to be working. It seems to be “all clear” up there…

Then after we were kicked out of Fort Point (they were closing for the day) on the walk back we found this handsome guy. He’s a heron and was standing there posing for us like a supermodel. I got a couple shots mainly for my mom who I know is a bird person. Here ya go:

And I then moved slowly to the other side of him and got this one:

The day ended at Liverpool Lil’s with some more good eats and a tasty (and warming) glass of wine.

And more of me goofing around with my camera.

See, the restrooms had this really amazing warm yellow light. And it also had mirrors on opposing walls and I’ve always loved that tunnel effect it makes.

Like, whoa, duuude….

All in, it was a good day. I realize that none of these shots are very illuminating, but they are very me and also remind me of a fun day with good friends. It’s the kind of Sunday we should always have. Easy. Slow. Good eats. Friends.

Ah well, back to the sleep-deprived workday. I do love Daylight Savings but it’s always such an adjustment.

But I was psyched that there was still light at 7:45 last night. Yes!

Rock Star

You know what I did today?

I met a Rock Star. Ok, not a real rock star, but my own personal rock star.

For me, celebrity is an interesting thing. I don’t really think that much about most Hollywood actors. Having once upon a time dated a musician, the magic is out of that one too.

The one thing I love to do more than anything else is writing, so for me, the real rock stars are writers.

About fifteen years ago (*gasp*, has it been that long?), my best friend gave me a book. A book about writing. About how to get started. About just getting the words down on paper.

It began a journey for me that I’m still on. It was a liberating kick in the pants.

And what was the best, my most favorite thing about that book was that the woman who wrote these powerful words was from New Mexico.

That fact left an indelible mark on my soul.

That book was “Writing Down the Bones” and that author is Natalie Goldberg.

Today she made an appearance at a really cool local bookstore, Kepler’s.

After her talk, which was great, she signed books. She could not have been more gracious. I got a chance to tell her how great it was for this little girl from New Mexico to have a New Mexican show me the way, and she said she understood that.

And I walked away on clouds 8, 9 and 10.

It was really, really cool.

The geek out factor was akin to when I get the autograph of a favorite baseball player.

Writers and baseball players. My own personal Rock Stars.

Tradition

It’s a lovely thing. It’s a way to bind people together (and not in that “I can’t breathe kind of way”), a way to identify each other, a way to mark time.

In my life there are plenty. Cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning. Posole at New Year’s. Ham at Easter.

Noticing a theme here? My traditions do tend to revolve around food.

Fair enough.

When I was living in Albuquerque and working at Sandia Labs, the Friday tradition was happy hour at Gardunos over by Winrock Mall.

Delicious margaritas, happy hour tasties, and Mariachi as a way to end the week. That can’t be bad.

Today I’m enjoying a Bay Area tradition. Observed by most restaurants in the area and also by the cafeteria where I work.

Clam chowder.

: slurp slurp :

Oh yeah, baby. I know it’s Friday when there is a steaming pot of chow-dah at the Cafeteria. As far as I know, it’s homemade on site. This week’s batch isn’t as tasty as last week, but that’s ok. It’s still all kinds of yum on a cold rainy day.

The engineers will line up in droves, often the only time all week they toddle out of their black hole labs to see the light of day. I get in line with my unwashed brothas to savor the aroma.

Lop off a slice of sourdough, and that’s a little bit of heaven right there on a plastic tray.

So, ya’ll entertain yourselves, I’m enjoying a tradition over heah.

Happy Friday to all.

Marine Layer

Ya’ll know what that is?

Well, in my laywoman’s terms, it’s that low cloudy layer that creeps in over the Bay Area, not quite fog, not quite clouds. It’s misty, and damp and prevalent.

According to the Wikipedia entry, it’s “an air mass which develops over the surface of a large body of water such as the ocean or large lake in the presence of a temperature inversion.”

Fine. I’ll tell you this. It’s a regular visitor to the Bay Area.

It ruins Fourth of July. All you see are fireworks bursting behind clouds. Sort of a downer.

It interferes with summer baseball. You can actually see a high-flying ball hit the “inversion layer” and drop like a dying quail. Outfielders visiting my SF Giants are often flummoxed by this phenomenon.

It also makes it a bit warmer here, tho. Holding in the heat.

But you wanna know what the marine layer is doing tonight?

It’s blocking my freaking view of the lunar eclipse!!

It’s supposed to be spectacular. I guess it is. Not that I can tell.

: cranky :