Rain Numbers - 30 November 2003

1.37", today
1.37", for the storm (started today)
5.33", for the month

Dad Said…

You never know what will come up when Dad starts reminiscing, this time over Thanksgiving.

Grandpa Hanrahan studied veterinary science at Washington State in the teens. When he applied, he was scheduled for entrance exams. After the first one, which was in Latin, the examiner admitted him on the spot.

He also studied Castillian Spanish at Blackrock. He and Uncle Peter used to argue about Castillian vs “Southern California” Spanish. What a hoot!!

Dad reports that Grandpa left Ireland (the first time) in shame: he loved to ride horses, to the extent that he rode in horse races, much to the horror of the gentry.

It was Aunt Cassie, a mutual friend, who introduced Grandma and Grandpa. I didn’t think to ask how Aunt Cassie knew the both of them...

Dad majored in International Studies at USC, before the war. He’d thought about going into journalism (sports, since he was such a big fan, and knowledgeable). He talked to the head of the journalism dept. at USC (not a PhD, in those days), who told him, basically, “If you don't love it, don't bother.”

Dad’s basic training was at Camp Roberts. He got a big kick out of the U-Haul-truck-parked-on-the-side-of-the-freeway-just-across-from-the-main-gate moving story.

Sr Jenny’s previous name in religion was Sr John Dominic (hadn’t heard that name in years). The nuns at Mission High were Dominicans; Dad was surprised that she didn’t join up with them, but did note that, as with the Girl’s Dean (?) at Mission, she did choose Dominic as the second name. I hadn’t realized that Jenny went to Mission. She pitched for Dad, and had some pretty evil moves.

Dad’s first baseman also attended Mission, in the first graduating class. They had their 50th reunion recently, and this gal was one of the speakers. She praised Dad for his softball coaching (surprising most of her classmates, since Dad wasn’t a girls’ coach at Mission), and mentioned that all of her children had played soft/baseball, and not one of their coaches had taught them first baseman’s footwork. She had to teach them, and had gotten it from Dad (of course).

Mom was the catcher.

In baseball, at least, Dad’s arch-nemesis at Mission was St Francis (in La Cañada, of all places). After one game, I don’t recall who won, the St Francis boys got together for their cheer for the opponent, and what did Dad hear? “Two, four, six, eight, who do we appreciate? Hammerhead!!!” The St Louis kids came by it honestly, I guess.

Rainy Season Blues

You know you're living off the beaten path when you live on a road that's part dirt (the part going by our place), and the "improved" parts of the road are causing more trouble than they're worth...

There's a walking trail that runs through our property. Near the trailhead, if you will, it crosses over the creek that also runs through the property. The creek is quite a ways down from grade at that point. Just after the bridge, the trail is somewhat narrowed; we suspect that water from a (badly-placed and set up) culvert draining one of the "improved" portions of the road is rushing down the slope above this narrow spot, and gradually (not so gradually, now) washing the trail out.

Bob went to a private road-maintenance seminar some time back, and got some really good ideas and tips; one of the CPESCs (Certified Professionals in Erosion and Sediment Control) listed in the seminar materials (he was also one of the presenters at the seminar) will be coming out next Wednesday to take a look and make recommendations.

Hopefully, we can get some things done before the big rains start...

The Sound System

Modern gadgets and gee-gaws are not always a good thing…

Last weekend, the settings on the sound system got fiddled with. This morning, before the 8:30, Roy fiddled back with them, and pretty much got things back where they should be (or so we thought).

When we started rehearsing, a couple of our mics started booming a bit, and when the lector got up to say her before-Mass piece, her mic didn’t quite behave as planned. More fiddling and tuning, and that was under control.

So the procession is ready to process, Roy announces the song, we start, Fr Mike starts singing, and it sounds like the whole darned church was gonna blow up (electronic noises, not Fr Mike’s singing…)! By the time we get that figured out, the whole procession had processed up the aisle. What to do? Start the song again, chop off one verse, and carry on as if everything were normal.

Everyone was still WIDE awake at sermon time…          >:->

Diane’s Breast-Cancer Walk

Saw Diane at Mass today (Sharon and Maggie were down, for the birthday goings-on of one of the parishioners); she finished all 60 miles of the walk!! And her money raised-to-date is way up, too.