Good morning and greetings, New Year’s fans. Well, twelve months have past since the big ball dropped in Times Square, and as I wander through this lifetime, I still have so many answered questions, like why are we here, why do bad things happen to good people, and why am I paying Direct TV hundreds of dollars per month and I still can’t get Showtime?

Since last New Year’s Eve, when I had a few too many wine coolers and tried to take my pants off over my head, I’ve pumped out 51 postings of my wit and wisdom here at Sunrise Santa Cruz. According to the fact checkers at MIT, that would equate to approximately 76,500 words, three hundred commas and one semi-colonoscopy. And with a nod to the folks at Canon, who at one point considered sponsoring this site, these pages also included over 300 images of semi-spectacular beauty from the central coast, South Pacific and my modeling days. I believe it was my high school driver’s ed teacher who once said, “Everyone has a photographic memory, but not everyone has film.” And that, my Kodak moment friends, is the reason I went digital.

So as Smithsonian Magazine once pointed out, these weekly ramblings of mine are all about the humor. Whether it be a quip from Woody Allen,”Life is full of misery and suffering and it’s all over too soon,” or these gems from Rodney Dangerfield, “I met the Surgeon General. He offered me a cigarette,” or “If it weren’t for pickpockets, I wouldn’t have any sex life at all,” I only borrow from the best. You can throw in anything from Mel Brooks, the Three Stooges, Honeymooners or the Zucker Brothers. The list of comedy greatness, like the amount of recording hours on my new DVR, is endless. There are so many classic lines circling through my mind that I need to air out on a daily, weekly and bi-monthly basis, because that’s the way I roll. In the words of Jane Fonda, “We cannot always control our thoughts, but we can control our words, and repetition impresses the subconcious, and we are then master of the situation.” God, I loved her in “Barbarella.”

I find myself inserting simple everyday comedy into my daily life, as when I’m at Safeway, and the checker asks me if I need any help out, I always answer, “No, just emotional.” Gets ’em every time. And that’s a tough audience. Or when the bank teller asks how would like my money, I usually reply, “Regular size bills.” Or just the simple act of walking up to someone and tapping them on the opposite shoulder. That never ceases to amuse me. Yes, I’m what you might call a late bloomer.

As my former editor, pilates instructor and Nashville-loving friend Nancy Mager has often reminded me, everything is in a lyric. You’ve got the old standbys like “Does anybody really know what time it is?,” or “Does anyone remember laughter?,” and my mother’s favorite, from ACDC, ‘I’m on the highway to hell.” That song is so soothing. I always like to toss musical lyrics into these posts, because everything has been said in a song and it’s a clever way to paint a picture. And as Rod Stewart says, “Every picture tells a story.” At least that’s what he told his eight children with five different women.

So moving along, on Christmas night, the Gilbert entourage went out to eat at a local westside restaurant that will remain unnamed (Thai Orchid.) While I was happily downing my gai yang and pad see ew with enough sweet and sour sauce to fill the Red Sea, a couple sat down at the table next to us. We engaged in polite conversation and I then went back to filling my arteries with pad thai.

At some point, I believe while I was prospecting for the chicken in the kang ka ree, the gentlemen asked if I was a photographer. I replied, “why yes, I’m Ansel Adams Jr.” He said he had come to my house/gallery/fortified compound a few years ago for Open Studios and remembered me from all the 8×10 glossy headshots of myself that were hung on the walls.

But things revvved up a notch when his wife chimed in that she gets my blog every week. Wow, what a nice gift from Santa that left me with a sense of renewed vitality along with a twist of thai iced tea. I was so taken by the moment and appreciative of their kind words that I decided not to tell the restaurant manager they were planning on stealing the silverware from the table.

So on that note, I want to thank the millions, er thousands, er hundreds, er all my faithful cyber followers who have supported my non-profitable, subscription free site over the past year. I appreciate you coming back each week and going down the path of lies, exaggerations and half-truths that make this site what it is. I promise to always have a place for you to journey to each week to enjoy a little comic relief and take in some of nature’s beauty. They say they best things in life are free. Here’s hoping this is one of them.

For today’s photo outburst, we are heading back to the day Santa rested, December 26. It was a classic day along the coast, as the clouds played hide and go seek, with periods of rain and sun creating prime rainbow conditions.

These multi-colored arches were out in force a good part of the day, and I shot sections of the first in the early morning from the parking lot at Natural Bridges. I then caught another one looming over the upper westside that was a full arc wonder. We close the year with a couple of afternoon shots of the clouds above Steamers Lane and Its Beach. All in all, it was wet and wild, just a classic day with rainbows stepping up and making spectacular appearances up and down the coast. In the words of author Rachel Houston, “When you reduce life to black and white, you never see rainbows.” And that’s why, sports fans, I’m all about the color.

So that’s it for 2012. We’ll catch you shooting hitting the soft jumpers, driving to the hoop and knocking off Bin Laden. Aloha, mahalo and later, President Obama fans.

Good morning and greetings, late fall fans. Well, I’m counting down the days on my Taylor Swift calendar until winter takes center stage on Friday. But before we catapult from the shortest day of the year into the cold play of seasons, I want to go back to the last Wednesday, when the Mayan calendar and my life speedometer read 12/12/12/. Added together, it’s the perfect 36, which is the score I would be hoping for if I ever took the ACT exam. For me, it’s always about the academics and chocolate. Or as the Pope summed it up, “God gave the angels wings and humans chocolate.”

It was a day of great significance, as I turned 60 years old but felt 16 degrees celsius. So as I merrily skipped down West Cliff Drive the following morning, I decided that because of all the hoopla that went along with this celebration of twelves, I would write about a few things that cascaded through my mind that morning. Or at least the ones I could tell you about without being fined by the FCC or the National Association of Professional Women. Nobody knows the truffles I’ve seen.

Leading off is my son’s return from college. He’s has been away for three months. As a result of his absence, I slice and dice a lot less as leftovers last a lot longer without his teenage appetite at the plate. I find myself trying to engage my wife and daughter in conversations about sports, and I never tire of them rolling their eyes at me in delight. Actually, the biggest change is that I no longer live vicariously through my sports-minded son, but instead through my golden retriever. Of course, I now have the opportunity to spend quality time with my 15-year-old daughter. We do our hair, exchange makeup tips and talk a lot of WNBA. I see so much of me in her, which is scary and rewarding at the same time.

Meanwhile, the days are getting shorter, the temperature is getting colder and I’m still getting older. When I hit West Cliff in my fall shorts collection for the 7:30 tip off, I’m chilled and thrilled. But after walking for ten minutes or so along the gorgeous Pacific, I find myself warming to the occasion as a pleasant thaw sets in, erasing my emotional numbness. As I’ve mentioned before, it’s exhilarating to be out there strolling along the edge of the continent. And then there’s the human bonding factor. Let’s face it, I’m a people person. Over the years, I’ve seen the same folks day after day on these morning jaunts, yet I’ve never once acknowledged any of them. Of course, I’m just kidding, it hasn’t been years.

On an sad note, my camera died of a massive stroke on December 4th. Fortunately, my brother Brad rode to the rescue and bought me a new car, er camera body, to replace it. I am now shooting with a Canon Rebel T3i, which is a nice upgrade from my old Digital Rebel. I don’t want to say my previous camera was old, but scientists uncovered fossil remains of this model at a recent archeological dig.

So with my new pal in hand, I shot my first sunrise with it on Friday morning. I’m featuring its glory in today’s post. I started out shooting along the path at West Cliff before perching myself on a large log down at Its Beach in order capture the reflection of the color in the sand. As the sky started to glow and I went into Ansel Adams’ mode, I can honestly say that I was just as excited about capturing these sunrise moments as when I first started shooting. Unlike B.B. King, the thrill is not gone.

The last two shots shot are a glimpse of the sunset from that evening. The sky was cloudy all afternoon but just before the sun dropped an opening appeared near the horizon, and I took full advantage of the photo opportunity. It’s literally a new dawn shooting with this baby. And an assist goes out to my brother Paul for gifting me with a new computer monitor, so I can stare for hours at these images on a screen the size of my car windshield.

So the whole birthday experience was tremendously warm and satisfying, like the ingesting of the dozens of potato latkes I consumed during the festival of lights. But then another senseless tragedy reared it’s ugly head, the slaughtering of young school children and teachers in Connecticut. I know when people read this blog, they are hoping to find some humor, or at least sentences with correct punctuation. I will never understand why bad things happen to good people and why evil is so pervasive. By writing this blog, I hope in some miniscule way that these words of mirth and frivolity take away from all the bad that surrounds us. I know it probably doesn’t, but I’m going to keep giving laughter a shot.

On to the late night. “According to the latest census poll, a large number of Californians are moving out of state and going to places like Texas and Nevada. Look, I know a lot of us are disgusted with the Lakers, but that’s no reason . . . The Lakers are so bad, when Mitt Romney talks about the 47 percent, he means Dwight Howard’s free throw shooting. A close friend of mine said his doctor gave him less than two weeks to live. But it turns out his doctor’s a Mayan. He says that to everybody.” –Jay Leno

“Al Qaeda’s number two man has been killed by an American drone in Pakistan. In a related story, today Al Qaeda’s number three man announced he’s stepping down to spend more time with his family.” –Jay Leno “Mitt Romney met Manny Pacquiao just before Pacquiao lost his boxing match to Juan Manuel Marquez. Afterwards, Romney told Pacquiao, ‘You lost for the same reason I did – young Hispanics.'” –Conan O’Brien “McDonald’s reported today that it had better than expected sales in the month of November. Executives credit the success to increased advertising, new menu items, and two states legalizing weed.” –Jimmy Fallon

The International Olympic Committee has stripped India of its right to participate in the games. In response, India said, ‘Fine, just try logging on to your computers now.’ The governor of Arizona punched a reporter who asked her about global warming. Afterwards she apologized. She said, ‘Sorry, I’m a little touchy because it’s almost Christmas and it’s 135 degrees outside. – Conan O’Brien “Today the Nobel Peace Prize was awarded to the European Union. The peace prize is awarded in Oslo. When someone told me, I said, ‘Norway?’ He said, ‘Yes, way.'” –Craig Ferguson

So as 2012 winds down, there’s one more shout out to all my classmates and friends that were born in 1952 and turned the big 60 this year. And that would be to my old New Jersey pal, Steve Margolin. I’ve known Steve since grammar school, and a day doesn’t go by that I don’t think about how he’s always been jealous of me. We played years of basketball together, traveled through Europe and pounded down some of the best Chinese food on the planet. He’s been a great friend and is the most excited New York Knick fan in North America. Just don’t ask him about that time I struck him out with a sidearm fastball in our minor league championship game.

So that’s our final fall report before we head into winter mode. We’ll catch you being the most surprising rookie quarterback in the NFL and having your team in playoff contention. Aloha, mahalo and later, Russell Wilson fans.

Good morning and greetings, NFL playoff fans. For the lovers of pro football, January is prime-time, as this past weekend featured chop blocks, gang tackling and vicious helmet-to-helmet hits, and that was just fans tailgating in the parking lot. And let’s not forget enough scantily-clad cheerleaders and beer commercials to make my head explode. When you throw in college football’s Rose Bowl, the Tostitos Fiesta Bowl and my personal favorite, the Famous Idaho Potato Bowl that came with sour cream and chives, it was quite a week on the pigskin front.

There was also some interesting moments in the skies above Monterey Bay. As I mentioned in my last post, my Canon Rebel EOS suffered a stroke and died on the morning of New Year’s Eve, leaving me digitally challenged. And for some unexplained reason, I don’t have a backup camera to get me through prime times like this, which leaves me and Dusty Springfield wishing and hoping and thinking and praying that the skies don’t light up on a spectacular level when I’m lensless. Well, it may not have been Murphy’s Law taking effect, but last Wednesday night was one for the ages on many levels.

Now in my own weakside defense, and I really have none, I had brought along my daughter’s camera just in case the sky blew up on this night. All afternoon it looked as if the sunset had more potential than the 2011 New York Jets, and I knew there would be a window between my son and daughter’s basketball games to take in the sights and sounds. So when I exited the gym at 4:30 and checked out the sky, I could see the motherlode was coming, so I took off for Stockton Avenue to take in this midweek wonder.

The sky was already blowing up with unusual colors and texture as I hit West Cliff Drive. I took out my daughter’s Kodak Easy Share camera and prepared to shoot away. The only problem was, NOW HER CAMERA WASN’T WORKING. I thought to myself, relax, take a deep breath and try to enjoy this upcoming incredible experience that you won’t be capturing. Enjoy the moment. Of course, if you know me, you know this really wasn’t totally possible.

Now people always say to me, “Geoff, can’t you just enjoy watching the sunset?” Well, I could if I wasn’t a photographer and didn’t have a photo blog where each week I attempt to showcase the best from the skies and byways of the central coast. And just my luck, my Etch A Sketch was in the shop so I was out there alone, just me and a sky that would turn into clouds of purple mountain majesties. This was way above the fruited plain on a night oh so beautiful with spacious skies and amber waves of greatness.

So I sucked it up and accepted my photographic fate like a real man by sobbing uncontrollably for about ten minutes. In reality, I know looking at the bigger picture, there are worse fates, like if my TiVO went down. It was just disappointing to know what was coming and that my cyber audience was not going to be part of the festivities. Okay, so I’m a giver. Just don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.

My daughter’s game was now underway so I returned to the gym at Natural Bridges. I stood by the door and went to check the sunset every couple of minutes, as the skies were now a 360 degree canvas of unbelievable colors and designs.

To the east, the sky was as passionately pink as I’ ve ever seen it at sunset, while to the west there were riveting ribbons of orange and later red. My neighbor said it was like looking into a fire, a burning caldron of January color and pagentry. The reflection upon the ocean and sand was off the charts, although I didn’t have the emotional strength to go and look. Plus, my daughter was seeing some first-half minutes, and I didn’t want to miss any crossover action.

So the bottom line was, this was the most fantastic sunset that I’d ever seen but not photographed. So when I walked through the door at home after watching my son and daughter combine for two wins and 24 points, I wondered, what’s for dinner and what can I do to make up for this missed opportunity of greatness? At times like this, there’s only one place I can go. No, not to Disneyland, but to my photo archives.

We’re heading back to the evening of January 22, 2008, which was an epic night on the central coast. It was a most extreme low tide day (photo #3) as I was able to walk completely around the arch at Its Beach, something I’ve only done twice in my short but defense-oriented life.

I was shooting the exposed barnacles and sea stars when someone said, “Do you see the rainbow through the arch? (photo #4.) Then a snowy egret flew through and I shot it landing in the exposed kelp beds in front of the arch. I could just sense that this evening, much like my first chocolate milk shake, was going to be very special.

As you can see, the sky just went off from here, ending with a very colorful canvas (photo #6) that had friends and anemones buzzing. But here’s the kicker, and I don’t mean the guy that missed the three field goals for Stanford in the Fiesta Bowl.

The next night, I photographed my all-time favorite, Santa Cruz sunset up at Natural Bridges. We’re talking back-to-back, world-class nights in the skies above the central coast. To check it out, go the archives on the right, click on January 2011 and “Does This Sunset Make Me Look Fat?” will pop up like A-Rod with the bases loaded in a playoff game.

So the good news is that I’ve ordered a new camera and I should be back in business before Rick Perry exits the presidential race. I hope some of you caught the spectacle in the January 4th sky. In the words of my old pal Marc Techner, a West Cliff regular at sunset time, “It was magical. The colors, from the different shades of pink and purple and fuchsia just lit up the whole sky. It was totally incredible, one of the best ever.” Thank you and stay thirsty, my friends.

On to a little late night. “As I was coming out here, CBS News predicted the winner of the Iowa Republican caucuses: President Obama. So now that Michele O’Bachmann is out, that leaves Mitt Romney with best hairdo.” –David Letterman “Rick Santorum’s campaign is celebrating the Iowa caucuses with a pizza party. Here’s the embarrassing part: It was delivered by Herman Cain.” –Jay Leno

So that’s a wrap. Enjoy the warm winter weather, the ongoing NFL playoffs and we’ll catch you in the end zone. Aloha, mahalo and later, Drew Brees, Eli Manning and Tim Tebow fans.