Redefining the words "hot" and "hardiness"

Take a look at this graphic, showing that Redding reached 116 degrees today, coming within two degrees of setting an all-time high-temperature record, and you'll know that we have officially arrived in the North State (The image will enlarge in a new window if you click on it, making it easier to read.):


Previously, the hottest temperature I'd ever experienced (at least to my knowledge) was 113, in Brea, shortly after Kelly and I moved to Southern California. I remember thinking I was going to die that day. But then, it was fairly muggy, too.

The heat really is dryer up here--I walked four miles a few days ago before discovering it was 104, and while I was a bit woozy, it wasn't nearly as bad as I'd have expected. As temperatures got close to 110 this week, then passed that mark, all you could think was, Yeah, it's hot, but how hot is hot? At some point, it's just hot, and you don't think about "how" hot--or at least I find that I'm not.

Locals warned us before we moved up here--and have continued to since--that of all the lifestyle changes we'd face, the climate would be the most challenging, especially during summer. But many also claimed we'd get used to the heat. Originally, I laughed at them. Yet, I went out a short while ago to run some errands, and I knew it was hot, but I didn't even realize it was this hot. Yes, I've been inside most of the day, but that's how you survive up here--from your air-conditioned house to your air-conditioned car, then back again. It seems I really am getting used to it, already, and Kelly and the kids seem to be, too.

Two hours later, I'm back home, and it's 109 at 7:23 pm. Wow. After Zienna's shower yesterday, I came home last night, and Kelly and the kids are due home shortly. Good thing the a/c is running, as my only real fear is a power outage.

Oh, and you might have also noticed on the graphic that tree pollens were "very high" today. No kidding. With my sensitivity to trees, that explains why my eyes and nose have been itching and running like crazy. Given the choice, I'd take the heat over that, any day! Poor Zach, whose allergies are much worse than mine, may be in for a rough week.

So anyway, after a fierce winter, with record lows and snow, we now have near-record highs the first week of summer. And I'm actually glad and relieved. Better to have an extreme year as soon as we move up here, so we know what to expect. Summer's just begun, but if this is as bad as it gets, I now know we can handle it. Hurray.

Now, could somebody pass me a cold drink? And while you're at it, would you mind letting Geedubya know that there might actually be something to this global warming thing? Please?

Kelly, I've got a feeling we're not in Foster City anymore

I've always been a cultural observer. When I travel, I like to get off the beaten tourist path to find the heart of a place, where locals congregate, so I can soak up the flavor of their lives. I'm fascinated by the unique aspects of communities--especially those that set them apart from one another. And so, in moving from Foster City to Redding, with such sharp contrasts on so many levels, I was handed a veritable playground for observation.

In the months since we moved, I've kept a pen and paper in the truck for jotting down notes about things I've spotted around town--things I'd likely not have seen back home, particularly those which have served as reminders that we're no longer living in a major metropolitan area. At some point, I hope to make a blog out of them. But for now, they'll have to wait. Because this morning, observations about cowboy hats and mud-covered four-by-fours were made mundane and insignificant by the headline splashed across our local paper, the Record Searchlight:

BEAR STRAYS INTO REDDING: Animal tranquilized in Shady Lane backyard

The prominent photo, shown at left, featured an adolescent male black bear being carried away after fire, police and animal control officers tranquilized the animal repeatedly and brought it down from the tree in which it had lodged itself in the backyard of a home near the intersection of Shady and Mistletoe Lanes.

Shady Lane. And Mistletoe. According to Yahoo Maps, that's...oh, about half a mile from us. And I'm not talking as the crow flies, either, in which case it's much closer. Sort of makes the incident we had in our own backyard yesterday, during which two teenage punks hopped our fence and burst through the gate as a shortcut for their skateboarding antics, look pretty mild, unsettling as it was at the time.

So, forget the harmless garden snake that crawled into bed with me one night when we lived in Southern California. Forget the pesky rats that used to steal tomatoes from my vines and, when the mood fit them, crawl into our heating ducts and die when we lived in Foster City. And forget the mountain lions we were constantly warned lurked in the foothills back home. Because here, we've got bears. Not Yogi, Baloo, or even Smokey, but real, tree-climbing, hibernating, honey-eating bears. The horrors! Where's Marlin Perkins when you need him?

Of course, as Kelly pointed out, there'd have been a bright side if the bear had chosen our backyard instead: At least it might have eliminated, either by fright or other means, the band of marauding cats that use our property nightly to fight, mate, and otherwise raise as much noise and ruckus as possible. Indeed.

A bear lodged in the tree in your backyard--now that's one I'll be pondering for awhile, especially since we're fairly rural at the moment compared to the hilltop location we'll be moving to soon. Butting right up to the chaparral, just minutes from the edge of civilization. Remote enough to be dependent upon the California Department of Forestry to do our firefighting. With our back fence on Quartz Hill Road. The same Quartz Hill Road that was also mentioned in today's paper, after local kids began finding glow worms in fields adjacent to it. Of course, the article also went on to quote a UC Davis entomologist, who said the reason more glow worms aren't found locally is because to see them, you have to go walking around at night with no lights. And doing that, he said, is a good way "to step on (a) rattlesnake." Oh, my.

So, if this city simpleton came up here looking for an education in the local flavor of life, I assure you he got one in a hurry this morning. Boy, did he. And while these latest territorial tidbits will settle in over time as surely as all the others I've encountered to date in the town I now call home, you'll have to forgive me if I occasionally check the branches of the trees near our new house--and avoid walking around after dark without a flashlight. Because knowing what I know now, you're not going to hear me apologizing for doing either one!

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Note: Text of the article about the bear follows, borrowed completely without permission--same as the above photo--from the 6/20/06 edition of the Record Searchlight.

Bear strays into Redding
Animal tranquilized in Shady Lane backyard

By Constance Dillon, Record Searchlight
June 20, 2006

Animal control officers Monday afternoon used a tranquilizer gun to knock out an adolescent black bear that had taken refuge in a large tree in the backyard of a home on Shady Lane at Mistletoe Lane in Redding.

It wasn't until two hours after the bear was tranquilized with three darts that officers were able to remove it from the tree, where it had wedged itself in the crook of two large branches.

Redding police and fire, state Department of Fish and Game and animal control officers were called to the east Redding neighborhood just south of the Dana Drive shopping area to investigate a bear sighting about 3 p.m.

Tracy Muncy and her son Chris, 16, saw the bear climb over the backyard fence of their home in the 1200 block of Mistletoe.

The bear then wandered up the block and into backyards on Shady Lane.

"Our dog was barking like crazy," said Jennifer Rodrigues, 14, who lives in a house next door to where the bear was finally caught.

"When I first saw it, I thought it was a big, black dog. Then I saw this big, black butt," she said.

Police and the state Fish and Game officers staked out an area surrounding the fenced yard while neighbors and passers-by began to gather across the street.

After the bear was tranquilized, firefighters brought out a large ladder, and a Fish and Game officer climbed up and tied a rope onto the bear's left hind leg.

The bear then was gently pushed from the fork in the tree and lowered safely to the ground.

Fish and Game officers said they will return the bear to a more appropriate habitat.

"They'll take the bear out pretty far from where he was found," said Redding police Sgt. Rich Nance. "I've heard Fish and Game say that once a bear finds his way into a residential area, they'll try to come back."

Many neighbors who gathered to watch were surprised that a bear could wander into such a developed area.

Fish and Game officers think the bear probably followed a natural drainage waterway that winds through the neighborhood, Nance said.

Separated at birth?

To cop a posting theme my brother Steve frequently employs on his blog, Hamiltonium, here are photos of two of the Z Kids in their respective hospital nurseries, shortly after birth. Without checking the properties of the images, can you tell who's pictured in each?

BUZZ! Time's up. Pencils down. Got your answers ready?

The photo on the left is Zienna. The one on the right is Zoë. While these photos don't do just justice to the striking resemblance my daughters bore to one another at birth, they were the best I could do, given the relatively small number of film pictures I snapped at Zoë's birth (as opposed to Zienna, who, thanks to digital photography, has been photographed several hundred times in her first two weeks of life!).

Zienna's features have softened since, her hair has lightened, and overall, she's more delicate in appearance. But there's still a definite similarity between the girls. Or, as Kelly's Aunt Missy put it on the baby book at Mercy Medical Center's Virtual Nursery, "She's definitely a Hamilton baby."

And please, refrain from posting wisecrack comments about what Missy meant, as she immediately went on to add, "She is just beautiful." So there.

Now I supposed I'd better change the subject from photos and Zienna's changes in appearance-quickly-before someone posts a fair comment. Something like, "WHY ON EARTH HAVEN'T YOU POSTED ANY OF THOSE 'HUNDREDS' OF PICTURES OF ZIENNA THIS WEEK?" Ahem.

Oops! Look at the time. Gotta run and prepare for Zoë's birthday party...

BREAKING NEWS: Zach takes third in a bee, see?

Over the past month, the Hamilton household could easily have been dubbed Excitement City, USA. As if moving, tending to the new house, and welcoming a new baby wasn't enough stimulation, Zach and Zoë's school has kept us jumping with an onslaught of activities, including field trips, conferences, an open house, parties, and as we learned last week, the school's annual spelling bee.

Since moving to Redding, we've been pleased to find that Boulder Creek Elementary is BIG on extra-curriculars, evidenced by the fact that the school's bi-weekly newsletter includes a list of upcoming events that typically fills an entire page. But as we've also learned, while many of them are well-publicized, others are less so, left to the buzz created by tradition-steeped students and parents. Heading into the month of Zienna’s birth, Kelly and I had tried to nail down every significant calendar item to ensure the existing Z Kids wouldn't get lost in the shuffle. But we were caught off-guard by a few—including the school’s bee.

Coinciding with the Scripps Howard National Spelling Bee, the local versions are a pretty big deal, making the front page of the local paper, the Record Searchlight, in a series dedicated before, during and after to "Bee Week." Pity the new transplants like us who weren't aware of them—or prepared for all the fanfare.

Between having no school on Labor Day and missing Tuesday with a stomach bug, Zach didn’t learn until Wednesday that—surprise—he apparently needed to be prepared by Friday for the class-level elimination rounds of Boulder Creek's bee. Kelly and I weren't overly concerned, given that Zach is an excellent speller with a vocabulary about his teacher can't stop raving—most likely the result of the challenging books he chooses to read. But when we learned that the words for the bee would run to 10th grade level, we planned a practice session for Thursday night.

When I arrived to pick Zach up from school Thursday, I was surprised to see a dejected look on his face, a sure sign that something was wrong. Sadly, he explained that he'd misunderstood the week's schedule and that qualifying rounds of the bee had actually begun that day. With zero preparation, he'd missed the cut on a technicality (Lesson One: Say the word after you spell it to signify you have finished.). As I said, they take their bees seriously up here. Back at home, Kelly and I assured Zach we were determined to help him succeed. We offered to sit down right there and then to practice, only to find out that—sigh—Zach had forgotten his word list at school. Heading back to school to retrieve it, we were left with less than 24 hours to get ready.

The next morning, Zach was nervous but reasonably well-prepared, and Kelly and I encouraged him to relax and do his best. Thinking about him throughout the day, I still figured he stood a decent chance of making the cut, and when he emerged from school that afternoon, it was clear that he had. With a broad smile and eyes aglow, he proudly reported that he'd be taking part in the bee—in the gym, before a crowd of his fellow students, with his very involved principal, Mr. Porter, residing over the ceremonies.

With attaboys and high fives properly dispensed, we laid out a plan for me and Kelly to drill Zach over the weekend to prepare for the big event. But with a new baby needing attention, a previously-scheduled gymnastics play date on the calendar, and other normal weekend stuff of which to take care, it was Sunday night before any of us knew it. Yes, Zach had carried his word list around with him and glanced at the words a bit, but he hadn’t studied them nearly as much as we'd hoped. As bedtime beckoned, we suddenly recognized our collective oversight, and Kelly promptly hustled Zach downstairs for an impromptu mock bee.

With the poor kid ready for bed and tired from a long weekend, it didn't help that, seeing the attention Zach's mastery of words was drawing, Zoë decided that she, too, wanted to "spell" them. Occasional squawks from Zienna and echoed "spellings" by Zoë aside, Zach plowed through the list of words, missing only a few. We focused on the troublesome ones, did all we could to boost his confidence, and taught him mnemonics we hoped would help (including the "R sepaRates the As" trick to help with that word, which had tripped him up earlier in the week—ironically, one of my old nemeses). He went to bed sounding a bit nervous but believing he could do well. So far, so good.

Unfortunately, Sunday night was our first really rough one with Zienna. She had us up most of the night, and as a result, Monday morning went NOTHING like I'd hoped. I finally crashed on the sofa at about 6:00 am with Zienna on my chest, and it wasn't until well after 7:00—with us needing to head for school no later than 7:40—that Zach woke me up. YIKES! The next few minutes were a blur of rushing around trying to get everyone out of the house, especially since I hadn't packed Zach's lunch and Zoë was slated to bring cupcakes—not yet purchased—for a class birthday celebration. With everyone working together, we somehow made it on time, preserving Zach's four-year record of never having been tardy. Still, it was a far cry from the calm, relaxing morning I'd planned for Zach’s benefit.

Seven hours later, when I arrived to pick him up from school, I knew immediately that it had all turned out OK. The minute Zach saw me, he hoisted his fist triumphantly into the air, clutching a ribbon, trophy and t-shirt—his booty for a job well done. Still, as he jumped into the truck, he was somewhat apologetic in announcing that he’d placed third. Apparently, with the bee running long and the kids in the audience departing for recess, the participants had struggled to hear Mr. Porter in the late rounds. When Zach’s turn had come, he’d misunderstood the word he was to spell, and rather than asking to have it repeated, he guessed—and guessed incorrectly. Based on our practice Sunday night, I firmly believe Zach could have won the bee hands down. But in the end, it didn't matter. He'd learned another lesson (Lesson Two: Ask to have the word repeated if you have ANY doubt about it.), and by doing so, sealed his fate.

Careless mistake or not, I couldn't have cared less. I was so excited that I could barely contain myself. Jumping up and down in my seat, I tried to express to Zach how proud of him I was and why he had no need to apologize. And as I did so, the look on his face changed. To my relief, it was clear that he was proud, too. Realizing I wasn't disappointed, he explained what had happened and added that while he'd initially been upset, he'd realized a few minutes later that it was OK, and he felt good about what he’d accomplished.

Most important lesson learned (Lesson Three: Do your best, and don’t have any regrets.). Hurray.

Of more than 150 kids to whom this whole thing wasn't a new experience—and who'd had time to prepare mentally and otherwise—Zach, the new kid who’d had only a couple days' preparation, not only qualified for the bee but come in third. So you're darn right he had reason to be proud. As Kelly and I would discuss later in the evening, if something academic-related could mean this much to Zach, then for all our miscues as parents, we were clearly getting across the right priorities to him—including a healthy desire to excel.

On our way home, Zach and I took a detour to grab some celebratory frozen yogurt, a fitting award given the 95-degree temperature. Even though the yogurt melted quickly in the mid-afernoon heat, I was in no hurry. Tired as I was, I knew this would go down as a day to remember, and I wanted to relish it. My son had made himself and his parents proud, learned some important life lessons, and given me even more reasons to love him for the very cool kid that he is—no matter how you spelled it.

If you'd like to send Zach a congratulatory e-mail, I'm sure he'd love it. You can reach Zach at his personal e-mail address here.

Third time's a charm(er)

This entry was originally written in shorter form mere hours after Zienna's birth, but my latest Blogger crash, as I was scrambling to post before heading back to the hospital, caused me to lose everything. In the much busier days since then, I've tried to recreate what I'd written, adding additional details and impressions, along with an overdue account of the weeks’ events. I apologize for the delay--but not for choosing to spend time with Zienna and Kelly over sitting in front of the computer!

— Scott

Having had a bit more than a week to reflect, I'm still marveling over how witnessing firsthand the birth of your child is without a doubt the biggest E-ticket ride going in life. I can't imagine any other experience that could leave one so in awe of the mighty forces of God, Mother Nature, or whoever or whatever it is that controls this big old ball we're living on. For a close second, I'd go with the power of a major earthquake or weather system, or perhaps the grandeur of a Grand Canyon or Mt. Everest. But for my money, plain old childbirth—something we so often take for granted when we're not witnessing it firsthand—wins hands down.

If you're reading this, you probably already know that the final installment of the Z Kid trilogy debuted last Friday, May 26, when Zienna Ione ("eye-OH-knee," in memory of Kelly's paternal grandmother, although she pronounced it differently) Hamilton took her first breath at 9:46 am Pacific Time. Weighing in at 8 pounds, 10 ounces, and measuring 20 inches, she bore from the get-go a striking resemblance to her siblings—especially her sister—right down to the tuft of brown hair and, um, prominent nose. But in contrast to her siblings, she took to the breast instantly, and despite being passed from one relative to another in her first moments of life, she was calm and quiet, content to rest in the arms of whoever was holding her. Maybe this will be the mellow Z Kid—or at least we can hope.

Zienna's arrival came quickly once, like Zach and Zoë, she overshot her due date. At Kelly's checkup last Thursday, her obstetrician, Dr. Laura Davidson—a Wonder Woman of a doctor if there ever was one, with a beaming smile and infectious, positive energy—initially expressed reservations about inducing, given the lack of complications and apparent normal size of the baby—a new concept for us, to be sure! But when Kelly explained that pain in her ribcage was limiting her sleep to a few hours each night, Dr. D quickly changed her mind and scheduled an induction for that evening. So, after a nice, relaxed dinner with the kids, Grandma and Grandpa Loop (Kelly’s folks, Dede and Dale), and Kelly’s sister, Shannon, I drove Kelly to the hospital and helped her settle in before heading home so we could both get a good night's sleep. The plan was for me to drop the kids off at school the next morning and then leisurely head back to the hospital.

Suffice to say those plans were altered just a bit when, at 6:30 the next morning, Kelly called and asked that I get to the hospital as quickly as possible, as her contractions were already increasing in intensity and frequency—roughly four minutes apart at that point. I showered in record time and jostled the kids from sleep, and they dressed like champs, getting us out the door in record time. Once Zoë’s preschool teachers caught wind of what was going on, they pushed me out the door before I'd even signed her in, and I zipped across town, thankful for the absence of traffic in our new hometown.

When I arrived just after 8:00, Dr. D had just departed after determining that Kelly's cervix was roughly 6-7 centimeters dilated. After settling in, I did all I could to support Kelly and make her feel comfortable. An hour later, there’d been little progress, and our nurse suggested that Kelly roll onto her side. This turned out to be a great suggestion, because a half hour later, Kelly’s cervix had cooperated, and she was ready to push.

This is, of course, my version of things, and I was not the one feeling as if my body were being turned inside out by a watermelon emerging through an orifice. With so much progress in dilation and effacement in such a short time, the pain took its toll, and Kelly finally gave in and asked for an epidural. So, the anesthesiologist was called, but he was tied up with another patient. In the meantime, Dr. D showed up and announced that—sorry, no epidural—it was time to push. Looking down, I was shocked to see that Zienna was already beginning to crown!

So, with the nurse grasping one leg and I the other, Kelly attacked the heavy lifting portion of things. One push, and I was looking at Zienna's head. Two pushes, and I was looking at her shoulders. One more, and our beautiful baby girl was secure in Dr. D's steady hands, with all eyes in the room gazing upon her. After taking in that sight, I grasped Kelly’s hand and squeezed it tightly, in complete awe of what she’d just done and how relatively effortless she’d made it seem.

This is where the E-ticket ride really kicked in. At Zach’s birth, I was so overwhelmed that felt like I might pass out, and my tears promptly turned from joy to panic when the nurses whisked him away because he wasn't breathing. With Zoë, I knew what to expect and was more relaxed, but if you ask me to describe the experience, I can't, because it was still so overwhelming. This time, things were no less surreal—I couldn't hear or see anything but Zienna for several seconds after first laying eyes upon that little face and body—but it was a warm, comfortable feeling that enveloped me. I’d gladly have remained in that state longer if it had been possible to do so. It was like baby nirvana.

Alas, the feel of tears streaming down my cheeks and Dr. D's voice asking me to cut the umbilical cord snapped me back to reality all too soon. At least my baby girl was there to greet me, gulping in her first breaths while proving that miracles really do happen.

At Zach and Zoë’s births, Kelly had to endure torturously long waits before spending any significant amount of time with them, as each had been whisked away for cleanup and tests in the nursery, with me at their side. But this time, once she'd been wiped off and given a quick once-over, Zienna was promptly plopped onto Kelly's chest, a fitting reward for her efforts. Though Zienna would be passed around to waiting arms over the next couple of hours—when Daddy’s nursery time would finally come—she spent a good amount of them in Kelly's.

Knowing everyone else wanted to meet Zienna, and wanting Kelly to have quality time with her, too, I decided to pick up Zoë myself. The drive across town is mostly a blur, although I remember the horde of teachers, parents and students crowding around me when I offered to show them pictures less than an hour old. And then, with my big girl on board, I again headed back to the hospital. By the time I arrived, the fact that yes, the birth really had taken place, had begun to set in. And as it did, that warm feeling of satisfaction started to come back, too, where it would stay until...well, until now, as it still hasn't worn off entirely. Back in the delivery room, I sat down and laid claim to my first decent share of snuggle time with Zienna, a feeling that any parent knows really can't be described in words.

When Zach arrived several hours later, shuttled over by Grandma and Grandpa Loop, it was like a wonderful homecoming, as our newly-augmented family finally felt complete. Upon first seeing Zienna, Zach stated quite matter-of-factly that he was "skeptical" about her. After all, this is the boy who cried when he learned he'd not be having a brother. But within minutes, he was cuddling her like an old pro and whispering into her ear sweet nothings that only an adoring big brother can whisper. And shortly afterwards, he was arguing with his sister—and she with him—over who would get to hold Zienna next, and for how long. So much for worries about them accepting her!

Fortunately, even though the labor and delivery had progressed so quickly, Kelly had much less tearing than she had with the previous births. Still, when Dr. D examined her on Saturday, she agreed to extend Kelly's stay until Sunday so she could rest adequately before heading home. When we arrived Saturday afternoon for a visit, Kelly looked, as she had when we'd left her Friday, tired but otherwise fabulous. With the grandparents anxious for Z-time and the three of us tired and emotionally drained—and conscious of Kelly's need for rest—Zach, Zoë, and I headed home and laid low for the rest of the day.

By Sunday, we a bit more rested, yet I could sense I wasn't the only one feeling that, while the last-chance-ever two-on-one Z Kid quality time had been nice, there was something missing. And with that something waiting for us at the hospital, the kids literally ran to the car when I announced it was time to pick up Kelly and Zienna. Arriving home a few hours later didn't quite have the dramatic "crossing the threshold" feel I recall from Zach’s (and to a slightly lesser extent, Zoë’s) homecoming, but it definitely felt right. At some point during the day, the phrase "the five of us" was uttered—I can't recall by whom—and I almost corrected whoever said it. But aside from that, once Grandma and Grandpa left for the day, and we were left alone—the five of us—there was no doubt that our new family was gelling just fine, thank you.

Monday was a typical Hamilton holiday—barbecue, baseball, and lots of relaxing—and Grandma and Grandpa came over to share Memorial Day and steal some more snuggle time with their granddaughter. By Tuesday morning, they’d headed home, and while we'd enjoyed their visit and help, it was time for our nuclear unit to get on with the business of establishing ourselves as a family—which we promptly did. In fact, it might have felt like just another routine day if Zach hadn't woken up with another stomach bug—and were it not for the sweet little baby altering and, yes, complicating our routine just a bit.

Not that any of us was complaining, mind you. Concerns about “one more” and “it’s a girl” were clearly things of the past, and we all agreed—the four of us—that Zienna’s a keeper.