intuition...
Sometimes you can feel something, just on the edge of your senses, almost out of reach.
I've felt this before, this is familiar...
Sometimes you don't want to wait, like they tell you to do.
Three days, then you should come in. Otherwise, we don't know for sure if it is what we think it is...and we won't prescribe.
There were plans laid, and it would be tragic if they'd been changed, or canceled. So I listened to myself, my body, not my rational mind. I went on a hunch, on a feeling, on something that felt familiar. The registered nurse was skeptical, as she should be...I was too, but something in me said this is what you think it is...just wait.
The swab was taken, the result was positive, the doctor surprised, and the prescription written. And on Saturday, plans were kept and we did not stay home. We left and walked through the gates of happy into our weekend, free of illness.
This time I listened, I followed my feelings, I paid attention...and I was right.
reprise...
Remember this? I have it AGAIN!!
Something is going on with my body, I'm convinced.
air conditioning...
Today is a stellar day. Stellar, not in the sense that the stars are descending from heaven to work my will finally, but stellar in the other sense...I think (I really use some words because they sound good, not because I know what they mean, don't you? I mean, SOME PEOPLE say that words mean something, but I say, words are just sounds made by rapidly stopping and starting the air that's growling through our vocal chords, creating sounds that can be manipulated by other bits of meat that hang about the front of our heads....but that's another post entirely...).
Anyway, today is a day of stars and fantasies and little tiny faeries and great big giant unicorns dancing merrily in the glowing clover covered mists of twilight. A day of happy happy joy joy dance dance dance until the music stops and then fall on the ground and writhe like you've just been stung by a bee events. Today is the day that we get an AIR CONDITIONER! Yes! Oh yeah baby yeah! By this evening we'll be basking in the icy cold joy of 1300btu of ozone producing, fast blowing, window unit happiness. Fortunately as well, the thing has a REMOTE CONTROL for those times when walking across the room has become treacherous because the ice has formed on the carpet and one would need to make the trip with a sherpa and a guide in order to survive!
But toadman, you might ask, how was the toadfamily able to acquire such a dreamy ozone producing wonder such as this!?
Well may you ask, I'll answer. The same people who bestowed upon yours truly, a gas grill and a large red swing-set, have recently had central air introduced into their dwelling, rendering said window unit moot, and indeed, redundant. Seeing our plight over the past few weeks of temperatures beyond the century mark, they approached us but two nights ago, and, in a fit of pity and woe as to our state, gave in to the tugging of their heart strings and found it within themselves to offer, forever and anon, and for free, the use of their moot and redundant window based cooling device!
We owe them our lives, nay, our very souls. Well, at least we owe them dinner and a couple of beers, and maybe a nice desert.
This summer, the toadfamily will not melt in the unforgiving sun and heat of the Inland Northwest, we will prosper and grow once again!!
to be of use...
The poem below reminds me of my father. He turns 71 this week, and one of the defining things about him is that he's always wanted to be, and has been, of use to those around him, using his hands to build and create. This poem was written by Marge Piercy, and read by Garrison Keillor on his collection called Good Poems.
Happy birthday dad!
powered by ODEO
The words:
The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half submerged balls.
I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.
I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who stand in the line and haul in their places,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.
The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.
the beach...
We were attacked by Happy. Happy got inside us and swirled around and possessed us while we swam and played in the pristine glacial waters of Lake Pend Oreille in Sandpoint.
Beware of Happy, whenever you do something like this with your family. It can become addictive and is definitely habit forming. The day after the beach, owing to an overdose of Happy, our two boys were insane with desire to return to the beach "RIGHT NOW!!!" They're on the backside of the withdrawal sickness now, though.
Click on the happy little ball and go to our flickr site to see all the pictures.
cantus de animus...
A few weeks ago, I wrote about the four year anniversary of this blog. That wasn't the actual anniversary date, though. Today is the actual date. It was four years ago today.
To commemorate this day, I've decided that this is the day I start a new blog. A 'topical' blog (as opposed to 'sub-topical,' I guess!).
Whatever for!? You may rightly ask. I'm not sure. Why not go and see it and read about it.
On the left, you'll see a link for the new blog [cantus de animus]. Go there, read, and hopefully, enjoy.
radiation...
This weekend was hot. Very, very hot. It was about, well, I don't know exactly what the temperatures were on Saturday and Sunday this past weekend, but both days were well over the 100s. As I promised, though, we went to Sandpoint, ID on Sunday. When we left the house yesterday, I looked like the picture you see to the left. Now, however, I look like the picture on the right. I'll have more pictures and more commentary later.
Good Morning Everyone!
weekend heat...
This is a picture of lake Pend Oreille (pronounced 'pond or-ey' - also, the translation from the French means 'looks like ear') taken from Sandpoint's City beach. It was taken in August of 2005. We're going again this year, this weekend, the hottest weekend so far this year. It's forecasted to be in the 100s this weekend, which is kinda hot when you don't have air conditioning in your house.
I suspect the lake will look very similar to the way it looks in the picture I've posted here. I also suspect that the water will be very cool, almost cold. But I can't wait! It's going to be nice. It'll be hot, but it'll be nice.
What are you doing to beat the heat?
mountain path...
It was always up. Toward the top. To go and stand on the top of the thing, and to look around and see the world from a different vantage point. That, indeed, is the point. To experience, to feel the rush of chemicals in your body that the vision creates. To laugh at the enormity of it, to cry at the beauty of it, to become silent at the age of it.
I haven't made it to the top yet, to that place of knowing. I've gotten close on a few occasions, but it was always too high, and my will was always just a little to weak.
But one day, one day....
quiet persistance of cherries, a mountain, and a place to live...
During all the hussle and bussle of our daily lives, throughout the day and into the night...While the middle east fights over god and Kim Jong rattles his sword seeking attention...During summer visits to the lake, screaming sounds of revelers and engines...The earth continues to produce, quietly, her fruits.
We picked cherries this past weekend. What did you do?
After picking cherries, we drove to the top of Mnt. Spokane, looked around, then drove to a nice place for a picnic and a hike.
These lupines were brilliant, and smelled nice.
Just beyond this is where I want to live...in a forrest where gnomes and faeries romp and play in the cool evenings, where flowers and moss grow together in harmony...
We found this stream across the street from the Bear Creek Lodge on our way back down from Mnt. Spokane.
To see more pictures of our weekend exploits, visit our Flickr site, here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/toadmaster/
experience...
There's nothing better than first hand experience. Nothing compares. Seeing something first hand is always more memorable, teaches more lessons, and sticks with you longer than just reading about something.
Don't you think they should come inside soon?
Oh, they'll be in soon enough. Let them experience this...it'll be good.
When you see it coming, you never really think about what it's going to be like. When you're in it, you never really know how it's going to end. When it's over, you never really thought it would be so short, and you never know quite what to think. Actual learning takes time to soak in, time for mental processing.
But, they're building it with those play tubes Santa got for them two years ago, and that sky looks pretty dark and mean.
That's true, but when it gets bad enough, they'll come in...we'll just keep an eye on them.
It starts simple, just a little spatter of rain here and there, a low rumble and occasional flash of lightening. But I can see something they can't see, from their hiding place, under the flower box by the garage, behind their structure of nylon crawl tubes and picnic quilt. I can see that God is about to power wash the neighborhood, the tell-tale signs are in the tops of the pine trees. The sound and fury is only a few blocks away now, and getting closer...I can see it, and feel it.
Honey! We've got to shut the windows! Look at the wind, it's really picking up now!
Ok, I'll go out to make sure they don't blow away, and I'll send them in.
It hits like an ocean wave off a stormy sea. The spray off the rooftops from the sudden gale force winds is soaking the neighborhood, the pine trees are screaming and swaying like giants holding back a flood. I hear screaming as I trot out of the house and into the storm. Their structure hasn't held, it's being blown all around the yard, and they are being pelted by giant raindrops as they scream.
Come inside! Hurry!
The youngest, squinting eyes and screaming, runs as fast as his little three year old legs will take him. Buffeted by the wind, he works his way toward me, and I usher him toward the door. The sudden downpour is causing waterfalls of runoff, which we now have to navigate through to get into the back door. He enters, and my wife takes his soaked body and strips it of clothes. Now for the other.
Hurry! You'll get soaked and you'll blow away!
But Dad! Our toys are blowing around! I have to get them!
He is frantic as he runs around grabbing at the crawl tubes that have taken flight around the back yard. He's worried about losing them to the gale. Worried that the storm will take them forever.
Don't worry about them! Get inside! Even if they blow away, we'll find them around the neighborhood somewhere later! Come on! It's more important that you come inside!
Crying, worried, and concerned, more about the possible loss of toys than himself, he finally gives up and runs toward me, then past me, and into the house. We create puddles of rainwater as we enter, so entirely wet are we. The storm only rages on for a few more minutes. These upland storms are fierce, but tiny. They are a microcosm of what I experienced in the wide open lands of my childhood. Still, they teach. I hope they learned well. I think they did. They at least gained experience. They laughed about it later, as did we all. They defeated fear by listening to, and heeding, it's warning.
four...
It's the obligatory "this is how old my blog is" post today, so get ready.
Four years ago, in an office on the fifth floor of a glass building, there sat a weird little dude with an axe to grind. He was getting laid off from his first tech job, and he wasn't happy about it, but there wasn't really anything he could do about it at the time. On the way to work that steamy July morning in Fort Worth, TX. He heard a story on NPR about something called a "blog." These things were just beginning to be mildly popular.
The little fat dude already had a modest web presence, and had for some time. His narcissistic tendencies were already being fulfilled by showing the world exactly what he thought they should know about him. But here as another way to force his opinions on people! "How exciting! Another way to get people to listen to my ranting and ravings!" he thought in his tiny little mind.
So, there he sat, having completed his minimal morning duties, and having gathered his coffee and spoken to a few others in the office, and joined Blogger. He immediately started writing utter crap, and posting it to the internet's giant wall of doodlings, for all to see and judge.
This went on for far too long. Almost three years, in fact. Slowly his infantile writing changed. I suppose that, finally, in his mid-thirties, the dude started to mature just a bit. Ranting and raving and yaking on about nothing finally wore him down until, many years after he started his blog, he changed it entirely. It was one of those moments that comes rarely in a mans life, when he looks back on the past, accepts it, and decides to move on toward the fearful but exciting future. Because of this sudden change, in November of 2005, he reworked the blog entirely, changed it's focus, and actually started trying to write stuff that was, to his mind, good, or at least better than before. Enough of the childish rantings of that previous life, it was time for something better.
He started to smile more. He started to write better. He even began to like some of the things that he wrote, as self serving as that sounds. The point is, however, that he began to be pleased with himself. One of his favorite posts is thanksgiving, 1979..., which is about some of the last memories of his Grandfather, and also includes some writing of his mother's. He was touched by his own writing in this one. He has used music and lyrics to inspire his writing, as in one called memory..., another of his favorites. There are other's he could mention, but the archive links are there. Some are good, some are not so good. Browse them if you wish...he wouldn't mind it...
And so we come to the present day, four years on. He's gained a few readers, been inspired by others like Scott, Brandon, Peefer, and Robert, to name just a few. There are so many good ones out there that there are days he feels inadequate. But then he looks back over his own writing, and enjoys what he's become over the years, and wonders what he might become in the future, and decides to continue.
This rampant self promotion continues, this narcissism, this seeking of approval and glowing comments, this "I have something to say that I think is important", this quiet corner of the world where he sits and says "I am here, and I matter", will continue. This open and evolving book of him, of me, will go on into the future, until it doesn't matter any more.
sometimes they surprise me...
"Grrrrr!!! I'm not going to like it! I'm not!"
In an age of fast paced cartoons and action packed kids shows, this didn't surprise me.
"Well, let's just eat our pizza and give it a try, ok? Also, if you want pizza, you'll sit with your mother and I and watch this film."
That seemed to cinch the deal, at least for the six year old. The three year old wasn't sure what all the fuss was about anyway, but he was siding with his brother because, well, that's what brothers do in these cases, right?
We had rented a movie, and gotten a take and bake pizza, because the boys had helped mother pick up and clean the house WITHOUT complaining AT ALL! This was a major achievement, worthy of encouragement. So on the way home, I picked up the goods.
I have to admit that I was having some trepidation about getting the film. I was sure that some sort of complaint would come, at least from the six year old, so set in his ways is he already. But I steeled my resolve, prepared my counter arguments ahead of time, and got the film anyway. I wasn't going to force it on them, exactly, I just wanted them to have the opportunity to experience it, if they wanted to.
"Oooh! The 40th Anniversary Edition of Mary Poppins!" exclaimed the check out clerk at the Shadle Center Safeway. Then she looked at me, standing there with my sunglasses still on, tube of slice and bake cookies on the counter in front of me, and cast me a strange look. I suppose I just didn't look like the sort of man who would check out this kind of film. With the long hair, graying beard, t-shirt and the pseudo-army hat, it may have been more appropriate for me to check out something like "Death and Dismemberment: The Return of Massive Blood and Guts on Screen." I suppose people misjudge me. When I look at myself, I don't see that stereotype, but other's do. I'm not sure why. Should I change my 'look?' Maybe. But I don't want to. I'm comfortable this way, and with who I believe that I am.
"Yeah, it's a great movie!" I returned.
The conversation above, with my two boys, happened after I got home with the goods. We argued a bit, then, with the two options of pizza upstairs in the heat, or downstairs in the basement in front of the television presented to them, they reluctantly chose the latter.
But they surprised me. I think they even surprised themselves.
Three minutes into the film, they were already into it...laughing and giggling, as was I. When Admiral Boom's first blast came, we all guffawed heartily. The boys have since watched the film twice. They love the songs, the laughter, and the happiness that the film presents. That makes me happy. Our six year old even dropped his "cool" act and put on his silly personality (which is the real one) and enjoyed the film a lot.
In a day and age like this, where children's programming is getting worse and worse, and more and more gross, it's refreshing to know that kids still like things simple, and clean.
on top of the world....
...well, not really, but Steptoe Butte really seems high. It's only about a thousand feet above the surrounding Palouse area, but since it stands alone, it seems higher. It's like a giant thumb of quartzite sticking up out of a sea of wheat (that is, actually, exactly what it is...). It was very steep, but the drive to the top was breathtaking, and we stopped a couple of times on the way to take more pictures (click on the picture to go to our Flickr site for even more pictures). On top, even the boys were stunned with the view. It was still warm, but breezy, and very silent.
After this, we enjoyed a quiet picnic at the base of the thumb in the cool shade. It was a bird paradise, and again, even the boys enjoyed the silence.
All in all it was a great time, a refreshing drive, and a happy day was had by all.
s'mores...
It was a nice evening last night. It was cooler, slightly overcast, and there was a pleasant breeze. I grilled some sirloins and baked some potatoes while the kids ran around in the yard doing what kids do.
We ate outside and enjoyed the cooler weather.
After dinner the boys wanted s'mores for desert. My wife has this way she makes s'mores that involves the microwave. I can't do it. When I do, I usually end up turning one of the ingredients (chocolate, marshmallow, graham cracker) to charcoal.
After our oldest son, who's loose and low hanging front tooth had recently garnered him the nickname "snagletooth," was finished with his desert, he came walking in licking the chocolate off the plate. He stopped in the back door, looked up, and said to me "Dad? Where's my tooth?!"
Laughter ensued.
It was gone. It wasn't anywhere to be seen around the table outside either. Our only conclusion, which caused even more laughter, was that he had swallowed said baby tooth, but that this too would pass.
He was a bit concerned that the tooth fairy wouldn't give him his expected payment, but after a quick note about the whereabouts of the tooth, and that he would attempt to retrieve it some time in the future, should the fairy still want the item that had traversed his internal highway (which I'm not sure she will, but we'll see I suppose.), he was appeased, and was able to relax about this dental mishap.
We still laughed, and I have it on good authority that the tooth fairy did give him a dollar for the missing tooth.
in the world today...
In the world today...
France just beat Portugal and will meet Italy in the World Cup being held in Germany.
Kim Jong II has proved to the world that he is a selfish baby bent on getting attention.
Israel is attacking Palestinians.
Palestinians are killing Israelies.
American soldiers are killing insurgents and innocent people.
Insurgents are killing American soldiers and innocent people.
Darfur is dying every day.
China is killing their environment.
In the world today, I just want to sleep...to close my eyes and make it all go away, make people stop the hate, stop the killing over god, over oil, over land, over anything. In the world today, I want to give a starving child a meal by taking the food off a rich glutton's plate. I want to make the governments listen to their own rhetoric and realize that nothing they ever say matters anyway, that life is too precious and more important than land or oil or politics. But mostly, I want it to go away, as I close my eyes and drift into the temporary peace of silent sleep.
two hundred and thirty years ago...
Two hundred and thirty years ago,
independence was declared
the common man was lifted up
freedom became real
Two hundred and thirty years ago,
rebels became leaders
dissent became patriotic
fear became history
Two hundred and thirty years ago,
it was born in ideology
it was lead by an upstart
it was the beginning of equality
Two hundred and thirty years ago,
was a long time ago
Happy 4th of July everyone. Let's try to make the next two hundred and thirty years better than the first two hundred and thirty years. Let's think about the future, instead of the present, by remembering the past.
