I ran across this article which gives some interesting perspectives and insight into what law makers on Capital Hill and the Federal Reserve in the U.S. are facing:

What to do and not do in a financial panic

May the Lord have His perfect way.

We first took Shani ice skating back during our New Years vacation. She was such a natural and just didn’t want to leave the ice (she wore both of us out)–and Sunday was no different. She was thrilled to get back out on the ice, and after a few turns around the rink was already attempting to skate by herself, and continued to try undeterred by multiple falls… she was so disappointed when we had to leave. Kyla was a little more cautious, she really liked the “walker” that they had for kids learning to skate–just the right mixture of security and independence.

After the ice skating we headed for Bruno’s in San Marcos–a pizza place famous in SoCal for great pizzas in the especially large variety. With a large pizza, a pitcher of beer, and both kids munching happily we toasted to 5 great years, and the many more to come.

Good times!

I love you Tammy!

You’re a great friend and a loving shepherdess, a kind soul and an amazing teacher. There’s so many things our girls do well because of your faithfulness in teaching and training them, or helping us to know how to better teach and train them. I can’t count the times I’ve had great conversations with you about deep topics. We couldn’t ask for a better fellow home member! Words don’t really do the subject justice. Oh, and did I mention you’re beautiful? All that to say may this birthday be the best ever!

We love you!

–Sam and Tammy

Oh and I’ve included a few pictures from our latest find–a park in Rosarito with grass, and lots of it. The kids had a great time!

And without further ado the photos!

I’ve been exploring photography and even purchased a entry level DSLR camera, and so far I’ve had a great time shooting away and gaining experience. I don’t have as versatile a setup as I would like to eventually end up with, but for now I’ve been able to do a few assignments and looking forward to some pro-bono portrait sessions. Thing is there is so much cool photography stuff out there. I was on amazon looking at flashes and polarizers–and before you know it I had a a cart with over $600 of stuff in it. All of which was very useful for photography and would expand my horizons a bit on what I can and can’t do with my current setup. But the price tag made me stop and think–my initial body and first 2 lenses only came out to about $900 and I’ve added a few accessories since then. So I began calculating the amount of time I’ve actually spent shooting with my current setup…and I came to the conclusion that I’ve spent more time researching and shopping for my original setup and for these additional things I wanted to get than I’ve actually spent out shooting pictures. Ouch! So I’ve decided to put any additional purchases on ice until I can get some more experience under my belt with what I’ve currently got. I think I should set a goal, for self control sake, of the number of frames or the amount of time spent in this pursuit I have to get before I can expand my current equipment.

Any of you photo professionals/hobbyists have recommendations on how long I should give the novelty to wear off to decide if this hobby is going to stick and not just be a fascination with gadgetry? If it does turn out to be the latter then I suppose that aside from getting into this field to begin with, the biggest mistake I could make is spending even more money on something I have a fleeting interest in.

Aren’t cell phone sales people some of the most immoral customer reps in the retail business? (Disclaimer: Of course they can never compete with used car sales persons for the all time top position.)

From first and second hand experience I’ve seen them straight out lie to make a sale–”Oh you don’t want to buy that phone, it doesn’t work with the plan you’d like to sign up for.” Many fall for their half truths and tricks, cuz hey, they’re supposed to know what they’re talking about–and only they are really supposed to understand those five pages of legalese fine print you sign your name to when you’re signing up for new service. Right? I mean how am I supposed to know that the third clause on the 5th page of the service agreement promises my first born son in betrothal to the phone sales guy’s estranged mother in law. Heh.

My colleagues and I have had to deal with them a bit more lately because we’re changing over our cell service from Sprint to Nextel and adding a few more lines. When dealing with a rep in person there are more gimmicks than you can count a lot of times–the most immediately noticeable of which is high pressure sales. I did my phone order online trying to avoid some of this and got a better deal than I could find in the stores, but still encountered lousy “outsourced to India” customer support which shipped my order a full 4 business days after the order was made instead of the expected within 24 hour time frame, and offered to refund my shipping cost to compensate for the delay and then charged me anyway. Oh well! I still feel I got a killer deal!

Hearing about Darren and Cassie’s experiences going to an actual Sprint store and the inconsistencies between what they were told by the sales people reminded me of my encounter with a very motivated AT&T Wireless/Cingular rep in a SoCal mall years ago when I lived in Ensenada.

I was interested in getting a phone that worked on both sides of the border for voice calls. At the time I was completely clueless as to the possibilities available with Nextel, which I’ll get to in a sec, but first let’s finish this story. I casually inquired whether they had a dual country plan so I could roam in Mexico at low roaming rates. He responded with “We’ve got this plan called the North America Plan, you can call to and from Mexico as if you were in the states, it just uses your plan minutes.” I was stoked, and I’m sure it showed, because so was he. Only problem was he had sold me on, and subsequently signed me up for, a plan that didn’t exist and never has.

When I got to Mexico my phone didn’t even roam on the Mexico GSM network run by MoviStar, it just kept searching for service. Needless to say all three phones went back to the store and the incredulous store manager who had never heard of the plan I had been sold. AT&T dealt extremely well with me after they sent me a $117 bill for activations and first month of service, refunding the entire amount apologizing that the rep had misrepresented a plan they’ve never sold.

Of course the wireless company proper customer service/billing departments can make enough mistakes to go around as well. I’ve heard from plenty of people I’ve known that they’ve had to call every month for six months because of the same mistake being made on their bill month after month. The wireless companies seem to get tired of hearing from disgruntled customers; Sprint just “fired” 1000 customers by sending them a sweet little letter stating in so many words “It’s not you, it’s us.”

Nextel is now part of the “evil empire of Sprint”, but everybody here in Baja is sold on their walkie-talkie service, and I’m getting quickly won over. I was very happy today when I needed to get in touch with somebody in the US as well as somebody in Mexico about borrowing a vehicle. With a nearly instant connect I talked to one than the other on the same phone and had it all worked out in less than two minutes, all without using up any plan minutes or paying roaming charges.

Do you have any horror stories of cell phone sales people promising you the world and delivering a nightmare instead? Anybody have experience being on the other side of the counter? I’ve always wondered what it’s like to be one of those high pressure caffeine addicted sales people leaning over those wireless carrier kiosks hawking their wireless wares in malls across the country.

Any suggested alternatives? I just need something simple that I can integrate into Wordpress allows for simple albums, and that won’t have this terrible thumbnail problem that Gallery has had.

I went jogging today for the first time since we moved to Baja. My destination–the beach about a half mile from our abode. Shouldn’t be too hard right? Well, yes and no.

Leaving our house the rhythm of my feet carrying me swiftly and succinctly across the ground was exhilarating. As my shoes pounded the dirt/concrete/occasional piece of trash I was confronted with a variety of smells–wood fire, gray water sewage, barbecuing beef, smelly trash cans, chlorine, salty ocean air, and engine oil. As I neared the beach I picked up my pace, envisioning myself jogging on hard packed sand to the sounds and smells of the ocean.

My first attempt at reaching the ocean was thwarted by a small gated subdivision. I had heard that heading south at this point afforded a speedy entrance to the beach, so I headed north, determined not to take the “easy way”. After all this was my first jog in months, and I wasn’t going to take it easy–I was in the groove and feeling good about it.

As the blocks sped by I entered just about every cross street headed towards the coast, only to be confronted with the walls and gates of homes facing the beach. Even the vacant lots I encountered were walled and gated with large “Propiedad Privada” signs. Soon I was leaving Rosarito following a dirt road that runs along the “Couta” or toll road; I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever make it to the beach, and kicking myself for my audacious decision to head in this direction.

My hopes picked up when I saw an empty lot next to a condo high rise that was under construction. Hopping over a dilapidated barbed wire fence and was half way to the beach when over my shoulder I hear a whistle, which I ignore, then a slightly louder “hey”. I quickly calculated my odds at outrunning the slightly rotund uniformed security guard I could see out of the corner of my eye, I kept running. Then I calculated the chances he had access to a radio to call in some backup in the form of local authorities or lifeguards, I stopped. The following exchange was in Spanish:

“I’m headed to the beach.”

“Not through here, it’s private property”

“Then where?”

“Back that direction” pointing south

I took one look at him and another at the beach, not fifty yards away. For a fleeting moment I envisioned myself jogging straight toward the beach leaving him to huff and puff far behind me. Then I turned and dejectedly plodded back towards the aforementioned dirt road as the security guard watched importantly from his vantage point as if to make sure I wouldn’t try and pull a fast one, he didn’t need bother I had already resigned myself. Two hotel/condo buildings north I was able to gain “public” access to the beach and I enjoyed the 2 1/2 mile return journey immensely!

There is a federal law in Mexico that’s been around longer than I have that the beaches cannot be privately owned, similar to the national and state parks in the US. Obviously the commercial interests have found a convenient solution–stick hotels, gated communities and condo buildings right along side each other and for all intents and purposes you have a semi private beach, as no one can get to “your” beach without going a long way around.

As frustrating as it was to not be able to reach the beach today there is also the other side. If I had paid top dollar for my beach front house I might prefer my backyard not to be overrun with the weekend rush of tourists and bathers, along with all the noise and trash they brought with them. So what do you think? If you had your own country to run, would you allow private parties to own the beach?

to participate in a little sport, a little infantry training, a little welt creating thing called paintball. Which Sara had provisioned for a 17 person strong team.

It was a beautiful drive south along the coast to our destination, until an hour into the drive we started to suspect our pilot vehicle’s limited directions had been misinterpreted. Asking the Mexican folks for directions to a paint ball field confirmed our suspicions as we found ourselves nodding dumbly at directions to a different paint ball facility than the one we had set out for.

Finding a sliver of an internet connection outside a Sansborns in Ensenada (yes, we really made it that far) lo and behold we find out our final destination was all the way back in Tijuana, in fact not more than 20 minutes from our house.

Three hours after our scheduled arrival we shouted in jubilation at the sight of a not particularly spectacular junk yard, which heralded our arrival at Baja Paintball

After getting outfitted with our provisioned gear and ammo, we felt pretty big and bad. Heh! I’m sure the more seasoned
“pros” muttered under their breath Give a gun and a jacket to a rookie and he thinks he’s all big and bad. at our antics.

Once we realized that most of us couldn’t hit the board side of any moving target more than 6 feet away we became a lot more aggressive and planning our charges forward became more elaborate”not that this prevented us from dying any sooner.

The fun part was fun, the welt part was painful, and the driving part was long. I hardly bruised from any of the paint ball shots…but wouldn’t you know it on my way off the last course”my vision obscured by my protective mask”I ran smack into this sign

and chipped my front tooth. If it had happened in the heat of battle, I could have worn it as a badge of honor, but my clumsiness came through yet again. Oh well!

(Yes, this is my first post in a long, long, long time….Too many ambitions for this blog, too little time)