Although our planet's the biggest thing on earth, it still needs a holiday. The good news is the day we set aside to honor and remember all the great thing this blue-green sphere does for us is right next to 4-20 Day, another hippy holiday.

Odd how that worked out.

Home Depot, today, was giving away compact fluorescent bulbs (one to a customer), but I couldn't justify driving there to get one. Maybe if I had a Hummer, or some car with air conditioning, it would have made sense, especially if I also needed to buy some of that Roundup stuff.

As it is, what I'm doing for Earth Day is watching Discovery Channel's Planet Earth. I can't wait to see how it ends.

I live a couple miles away from LAX, so it's no surprise that I'm an expert on all things aeronautical. In fact, for many years growing up, I'd answer the "What do you want to be when you grow up?" question with "An aeronautical engineer." By the time I could have understood what that entailed, of course, I'd given it up, but it sounded good at the time and cut off further discussions.

I, also, live about half a mile from the nearest railroad track, so I can be considered an expert on rail as well. The track isn't used any more, I don't think, but when we were kids my sister and I found a rusted can near the tracks in a light industrial area and were convinced it was the markings of a hobo camp. We'd venture there only with the family dog for protection.

I'm much closer, of course, to paved roadways, cementing my expertise on that as well. And it goes without saying that what I'm closest to, chairs and beds, are things I also know quite a bit about.

Every day guarantees a few things. One, I'll hear and see planes approach the airport, and, two, I'll read about global climate change and environmentalism on the Internet. What I don't see written about very often is that humans all want to live in the biggest house possible in the nicest spot on earth.

Where we differ, thankfully, is on what constitutes the nicest spot on earth.

The Unabomber and a handful of others lived quite simply (the word austere comes to mind), but not very many others want to do that. I think that's a shame. This planet could support six billion people living in tiny dwellings about the size of our current bedrooms much better than it can answer all our desires to live in huge places that require lots of maintenance and eat up even more resources.

We all want nice things (or, nicer things, driven in part by advertisements), and I'm no exception. Just today, for example, I was eating some seedless green grapes, and I was feeling pretty good about myself. The grapes were larger than usual, about half the size of my thumb, and came from Chile. It's a testament to our smaller world that I can eat fruits grown thousands of miles away, and it also relieves me of the guilt I still associate with Cesar Chavez and the whole grapes boycott, but that relief didn't last long. I have no idea how many resources were spent in transporting those grapes to me, but I have a hunch it's a number I wouldn't like.

Should I be selfish and insist on having what I want, the way I want it, when huge freighters or airplanes are needed to bring it to me? Or, should I think of the planet and forego unseasonal foods, or ones grown the way I prefer, to get ones that can arrive in my mouth at a fraction of the expense?

I never got that degree in aeronautical engineering, so I have no idea how efficient air travel is. I do know more people are flying around than ever before, and the convenience of air travel makes business meetings a reality as never before. More people are flying on more pleasure trips than before, too, and I think that's because it's so easy. It's not as much fun any more, but it beats staying home or driving.

I heard, once, that rail travel is more efficient, but since it takes longer, no one chooses train rides any more. I consider that a shame. No, train travel isn't the adventure it was even twenty years ago, but it's easier on the planet (and, I'd say, on the passengers: nothing compares to the reassuring feeling of being trapped in a train car for what you know will be three days. No where to go, nothing to worry about, no say in anything until Tuesday afternoon).

Yet, because we treasure our own, personal needs so highly, we fly on unnecessary trips, demand huge homes, and eat grapes produced on farms we can't locate on maps. I have no idea what, exactly, the future will bring, but I predict more of the same.

I was a little nervous late last night, but we managed to dodge the bullet and life, as I know it, didn't come crashing to an end. The meteor, as predicted, missed Earth and I can eat that fish in my freezer, only just not for breakfast.

In a way, I'm a bit disappointed. It would have been, literally, spectacular. Sure, along with the rest of us, I would have died, but I've long known that I'm going to do that, anyway. And, as long as I'm going to die, it's better to do so in some tremendous way than old and sick in hospital with tubes and candy-stripers.

Which, also, explains why I'd be first in line to be abducted by aliens, should they get here. The way I see it, there's not much difference between dying here and dying on some other planet, and seeing how they live or travel would be its own reward.

I know, I should be more selfish and grasp onto every chance to live another day, to extend my life and use up even more of this planet's limited resources, but I've already taken far more than I've produced. I don't have the numbers handy, but I have a hunch it's more than my fair share, so I'm justified in feeling as guilty as I do.

And, no, I'm not actively seeking out ways to die, but seeing the end of the world would be ... noteworthy. I don't believe in it, but the Rapture would be far more interesting to see than just some doctor shaking her head while looking at my chart. More dramatic, if you will.

There's another meteor or asteroid or something on its way, and there's always the bird flu or Supervolcano under Yellowstone to consider, so I haven't given up hope on the Revenge of the Cosmos.

Until then, I'm happy to be alive and hope to live each day more fully than the last.

On the outside chance that our astronomers are wrong and mixed up miles and kilometers again or lost a decimal place and 2006VV2 comes crashing onto my planet later tonight, I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone who's ever had a kind thought about me. And, to say thanks for all the fish. I just filled my freezer with a big pouch, too, and it would be sad to think of all those cods giving so much and me not enjoying them.
If life, as I knew it, were to end, I think I'd miss it (if I could).

I usually like surprises, which I consider odd since I'm fairly bristling with control issues, but only pleasant ones. Having my planet smacked into by a mile wide hunk of space iron definitely classifies as a "surprise," so in this case I can agree with those who consider surprises "nasty." I'm usually amazed when someone surprises me with a gift, though. I think that's because I really can't believe people think of me kindly when I'm not in their face, reminding them of my presence.

I frequently, when out shopping, see things I think people I know would enjoy (today it was TieDye Paas egg dying kits), and sometimes buy them to give as gifts. I think that's a neat thing to do, but frequently the recipient of my largesse takes to them unkindly.

Just as the earth would to this asteroid.

Right now I'm hacking up my lungs while enjoying a cigarette and stinking up the joint, so let's get that out of the way, pronto.

The patches seem to be the way to go, at least for me. While I know better than to say they worked and I quit smoking, I think I could of. My excuse this time for picking cigarettes back up is that my sister's sick.

It's not bad enough that she's ill, something I wouldn't wish on anyone, but she's home. And in my face. And very miserable. It's far easier for me to stop smoking when she's not around, like when I'm out housesitting, but my most excellent plan to quit with the change of the seasons was one I hadn't run by her and her schedule.

There will come a time when she's healthy enough to resume her duties, a time when I quit without the distractions of nagging, but Spring 2007 is not the time.

In about half an hour, around seven minutes past five, local time the sun will slip through some imaginary line and it will be Spring. It will also be when I quit smoking.

I've made a whole lot of half-hearted attempts since my last real one a few years ago. I decided to quit twice in the past week, but when I heard that Spring was coming that seemed to me to be a good thing to hang it on.

The greatest obstacle, of course, is that I don't really want to stop. I want to smoke and have it be affordable and not take all my wind away, but those things don't happen in the world in which I live. It would be easier, too, if I didn't keep seeing all those damn anti-smoking commercials on TV.
This time I have patches, and I've been experimenting with them a couple times. I don't know if it will help, but I hope it might. I got cheap ones, not the Nicoderm brand, and they're neither transparent nor small, about the size of an orange.

This also means, of course, that I'll be eating so much candy that my dental student(s) will cringe if they find out about it. But, since they also want me to quit, maybe they'll understand.

One would think that if I was able to quit drinking that I could also give up cigarettes. I don't know what I'll be like in the future,  but I expect to be fatter and less cool-looking. I know it's a good thing to do, and maybe it will help take my mind off whatever it is that's been dragging me down.

This, I think, is the first time I've publicly told anyone, and that may help my efforts. In the past, some close friends have known and helped, and my failure to give it up completely still makes me cringe in guilt whenever I think of it. So, this is for you.

I try not to bore the bots that document this site's existence by talking about my fondness of most things that fly, but today was something special. The Airbus A380, which may never actually make it into production, landed at LAX on its debut / test run about ten minutes after doing so in New York.

The plane, not too put too fine a point on it, is freakin' huge. So big that it looked to be landing very slowly.

About eight this morning, a full hour and a half before its scheduled arrival, the air above my home was filled with news helicopters staking out their positions. Of course, the police were involved, too, circling as if they had something to contribute. All of this activity would have alerted me to something, even if I hadn't known about it.

The best vantage point on the ground would have been at In-and-Out burger near the airport. From all accounts, though, it was filled to capacity as early as six in the morning, which is far too early for me to even think about getting a 3X3, animal style.

The plane landed without incident, and I wasn't the only in the neighborhood outside  looking at it. I don't know what effect this will have on our local "shut down LAX" group, but I'm glad some of us see the benefits to living near the airport. Sure, it's noisy and polluting, but it's also one of the better places to see planes.

Now that the plane's landed, most of the helicopters have gone off in search of fires or car chases. About the only one left is the police, doing God knows what.