Why be an ecoterrorist when this is so much more effective?

EUREKA, Calif. (Reuters) – Nine bare-breasted women briefly halted logging work near California’s contested Headwaters Forest on Friday in a protest against what they said was unconscionable logging of redwood trees.

“These gorgeous young women were belly dancing. One logger actually got down on his knees and kissed the ground,” said Dona Nieto, a California activist who has staged several “Strip Tease for the Trees” protests.

Nieto — a poet who goes by the name “La Tigresa” — said the protest interrupted logging work for about two hours at a point known as the “Hole in the Headwaters,” an area of second-growth redwood trees left out of a 1999 deal between Pacific Lumber Inc. and state and federal officials aimed at preserving the Headwaters Forest about 250 miles north of San Francisco.

The protesters, who gathered at around 5 a.m., stripped off their shirts, sang, chanted and handed out chocolates to surprised loggers, tying up traffic for about two hours until police arrived to clear up the scene. There were no arrests.

“The loggers and the cops were absolutely stunned,” said Nieto, who launched her anti-logging protests last year with demonstrations of what she calls “Goddess-based, nude Buddhist guerrilla poetry” to a number of timber and logging sites in and around northern California.

This action marked the largest environmental strip-tease to date.

One of the protesters, a 22-year-old who gave her name as ”Maple,” said she was surprised at how agreeable the loggers were when confronted by topless women.

Wrong Number Syndrome

From Southern Ladies and Gentlemen by Florence King:

“Neither can Aunt Pittypat remember that Richmond is 703 and Charlotte is 704, though this usually works out quite nicely, thanks to the Southern Wrong Number Syndrome: If one talkative Southerner dials a wrong number and gets another talkative Southerner, it may well be the start of a friendship. When I lived in Raleigh, I got a wrong number from a Silly Old Maid in Charleston, who after ascertaining that I was not her party, began to list all the people in Raleigh she knew. It just so happened that I knew one of them, too, and we had old home week for twenty minutes. As we hung up, we both said simultaneously: “It certainly has been nice talkin’ to you. You come see me, you hear?”

Weekend Adventure

This weekend we drove to Pagosa Springs in southwestern Colorado to see Berck’s Aunt Debbie, Uncle Dan, and the cousins from Tampa. They were there taking a vacation at a resort in which they had a timeshare. It was nice driving all the way there until we got into Pagosa Springs itself, when it started raining. If you go fast enough in a convertible in the rain, the water just flows over the car, and you don’t get wet. This worked for a while until it started hailing. Hail is too heavy for the convertible trick. It also hurts your ears when it hits. We stopped at a gas station to put the top up and for Berck to wipe down the inside of the car with paper towels. Then we found the resort and checked in.

The Kasprzyks arrived shortly after, and we caught up before they took us out to dinner. The resort had given them a guide to the city, and we decided on one restaurant and piled into their rental minivan. It was a lot more expensive than we expected, so we drove around trying to find a local brewery. Berck went inside to check and reported that it looked wonderful… a relaxed atmosphere, lots of local brews… but they didn’t serve food. We checked another restaurant nearby, but it didn’t look great. We finally settled on a Mexican place called Ramon’s (or Ramen’s, as Uncle Dan called it). It was quite tasty and even served some authentic looking soup that none of us had ever heard of.

We stopped by the grocery store on the way back, and Uncle Dan instructed me to go in with Aunt Debbie and Kyra to make sure the shopping finished quickly, but I bowed out because my foot hurt. I stepped on a hay hook on Friday when feeding the horses and knocked a hole in my foot. I got endless ribbing for it after that, especially when it didn’t hurt enough to keep me from walking across the parking lot to buy a case of beer at the liquor store. We went home and played a game that evening called “Would You Rather,” a good group game.

The next morning we got up early (I couldn’t sleep past 6:30 am, when I usually wake up) so the K’s could take us rafting. We all fit on one raft. The K’s opted for the waterproof rain pants and shirts. Berck and I just used the pants, which were nice to have, since we got rather wet. It was a beautiful day, and the river was full and fast. No one fell out (it wasn’t a rough ride), though our guide in training jumped out to retrieve our other guide’s kayak paddle he’d lost the day before, before swimming back to the raft behind us. Uncle Dan sat in the middle of the raft and took pictures constantly. His coup de grace was getting a shot of us heading straight into a huge wave. Unfortunately, he apparently sacrificed the camera for the photo, since it got a good bit of water in the it. The K’s have endless digital cameras, though, and this was their oldest one.

We returned to the condo to drive off and pack, then were treated to Baja tacos and buffalo and elk burgers for lunch at Kip’s Cantina all together before Berck and I headed out. We ate out on the patio with all the K’s shivering in the cool afternoon breeze of an approaching thunderstorm. They couldn’t understand how all the Coloradans were traipsing around in shorts and t-shirts. Ah, Floridians. Our drive back was uneventful but pretty rainy the whole way. We’re having another wet May, like we did last year. Pagosa Springs was so green, with all the budding trees in full bloom, beautiful.