Back at the Zoo

I descended a flight of stairs to discover an austere table, board member names in plastic shields, LCDs on tripods on either side, heralding the event: a Saturday Academy fundraiser, a time to be generous towards tomorrow's Oregon's daughters and sons. I sat at a round table (21), flanked by staff, with the Alien Landscapes instructor, and an OPBer. A mother and baby were also present.

Joyce Creswell set the tone, by invoking SA's 23 year long history -- coming upon a quarter century here. In these parts, 23 still counts as old, because our Silicon Forest is young, even though some of our oral traditions trace back to eye-witnesses to Mt. Mazama's decapitation (now she's named Crater Lake, and she's a deep one). My wife was here when Mt. St. Helens blew.

Illustrious captains of industry followed. Our area is endowed with talent, let's pass that on.

This is the same room I'd come to for a few CRIME meetings hosted by George Heuston of HPD, back closer to the time I was teaching at West Precinct with Jerritt (Mr. Linuxfund.org back then). We'd only need the rearmost partition, and mostly did projector presentations about patterns of IP use (many applications register, bittorrent especially), or abstruse lectures about cryptography.

Sam is chauffeuring for his sis (my wife), is also a pro poet.

We celebrated mom's 77th at Sweet Tomato last night, one of Tara's favorites. For her birthday, mom let me buy her any Laughing Horse book of her choice, and she chose Hitler Youth from Scholastic, about what it was like growing up in the shadow of Nazism. The resulting picture is comically surreal.

I also procured (and installed) those prayer flags (Guru Rinpoche was one of those incredibles I learned about on visits to Bhutan), plus watched that Squeakers DVD (thanks Kim), my two blog-announced goals for that day; plus I got a lot of other work done as well.