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Friday, December 29, 2006
the battle of bedford falls...
This year is almost over. This should be obvious to many of you. Our arbitrary time-marking system has continued, without fail, to bring us to this point every year at this time. But we still like to think that it's a real point, a time that we can actually change ourselves for the better. I suppose it's as good a reason as any, though resolutions are often too lofty for many of us to achieve, and we end up with a feeling of failure by early spring. Still, we forge ahead, look ahead, and generally try to feel better about the world and our fellow humans, and even ourselves, during this darkest month of the year. This is a good thing, I think.
This coming year has much in store for us, I think. We expect to welcome a new member of the family to the world in April. We need to buy a car. Later in the year, we'll be sending our oldest to second grade. Meanwhile, I will continue to fight the battle of Bedford Falls. Hopefully I'll win. I suppose the world really would be a different place without any one of us in it...you know? Some of us make bigger ripples than others, but any ripple has it's effects.
So, happy new year to all of you. May it be a good one, a happy one, a peaceful one.
It was a strange figure -- like a child: yet not so like a child as like an old man, viewed through some supernatural medium, which gave him the appearance of having receded from the view, and being diminished to a child's proportions. Its hair, which hung about its neck and down its back, was white as if with age; and yet the face had not a wrinkle in it, and the tenderest bloom was on the skin.
I can remember, seemingly, an endless line of Christmas days. I remember the silence as I tiptoed downstairs in the reddish glow of early morning in our Texas country home, before anyone else was awake. I remember the magic of it all, the mystery, the Church plays and the pageants. I remember the smell of coffee and bacon later in the morning, as the stockings were emptied on to the floor by the fireplace. I remember the Christmas day we played Space Invaders for sixteen hours. I remember family filling our house for hours and hours. I remember all the adults talking as I quietly played with the joy that Santa had left just for me. I remember all of that as well as I remember it slipping away.
Heaped up on the floor, to form a kind of throne, were turkeys, geese, game, poultry, brawn, great joints of meat, sucking-pigs, long wreaths of sausages, mince-pies, plum-puddings, barrels of oysters, red-hot chestnuts, cherry-cheeked apples, juicy oranges, luscious pears, immense twelfth-cakes, and seething bowls of punch, that made the chamber dim with their delicious steam. In easy state upon this couch, there sat a jolly Giant, glorious to see:, who bore a glowing torch, in shape not unlike Plenty's horn, and held it up, high up, to shed its light...
"Dad!"
"Wha..?"
"Dad! He came!"
These Christmas mornings are filled again with magic. It's a magic of another kind. The lovingly contrived magic that fills the hearts of our loved ones, of our children. We make the myths and remember the past. We feast, in our own way. We make new memories for our family, new traditions, new everything. Our gifts come from far away. They come to us from the south, and from over the sea, all to be opened and looked at and enjoyed here in our Spokane home in the snow. The hearth fire lit all day, cheers our playtime, and dances in our hearts the fires of love among us. Worry and apprehension is abated for a day and we revel in our own company.
It was shrouded in a deep black garment, which concealed its head, its face, its form, and left nothing of it visible save one outstretched hand. But for this it would have been difficult to detach its figure from the night, and separate it from the darkness by which it was surrounded.
It already seems like they're growing up too fast. It was only last year that our oldest was enjoying the simple pleasures of Knights and dragons and only barely reading. This Christmas he has moved on to larger books. He's reading Harry Potter now, interested in science and mathematics. He's going to be older sooner than later, and these magical moments will slip away. Yesterday morning I stood and watched the present, and fought with the future to not come. I held it at bay for just another day, keeping it's dark uncertainties out of sight and mind. I kept it's drift into rationalism away from the imaginations of my children and let them have their dreams, their magic, their day.
I don't know how much our little family will grow over the years, but I do know that it will. There will be many more Christmastimes for our sons and us, and our coming baby. What they will be like, isn't for us to know, but I know that they will be loved by me, from now until I no longer breath.
I'm taking a break from here until sometime next week. Have a beautiful and wonderful and special Christmas. All of you. Think of your loved ones, think of the warmth and love you feel as you gather them around the tree. Think of the past and the future. Love each other, and give to each other. I leave you with one of my favorite Christmas songs by Jethro Tull. Enjoy.
Through long December nights we talk in words of rain or snow while you, through chattering teeth, reply and curse us as you go. Why not spare a thought this day for those who have no flame To warm their bones at Christmas time? Say Jack Frost and the Hooded Crow.
Now as the last broad oak leaf falls, we beg: consider this --- there's some who have no coin to save for turkey, wine or gifts. No children's laughter round the fire, no family left to know. So lend a warm and a helping hand --- say Jack Frost and the Hooded Crow.
As holly pricks and ivy clings, your fate is none too clear. The Lord may find you wanting, let your good fortune disappear. All homely comforts blown away and all that's left to show is to share your joy at Christmas time with Jack Frost and the Hooded Crow.
Download and listen to Jack Frost and the Hooded Crow, HERE.
I've combined the next two questions, because they're quick to answer. I'll answer the first one, from new commenter on this blog, "fickleasever," who asks:
What was the first music you remember hearing?
That's easy, I think. I actually DON'T remember what the actual song was, but I can be 99.99% sure it was a hymn of some sort. It was probably something written by Ira Stanphil, who was also the pastor of the Church I grew up in at the time of my birth.
The second question, question 5, comes from long time commenter and one of the few bloggers in Spokane that I've actually met, GreenLibertarian. Green asks:
Why are you called toadman?
Simple. Reference the credits on this poor quality film I made in the spring of 1993 while in Film School at the University of North Texas. The moniker "toadman" kinda stuck after that, for some reason. Not sure why.
Question four in this series comes from North Idaho Daddy blogger, Family Phil (A Family Runs Through It). Great blog, great commenter, homeschooling stay at home dad...the works. How he finds time to even have a life is beyond me. Anyway, on with Phil's Question:
Who's your favorite Daddy Blogger? But seriously... What's your favorite family thing to do in Spokane?
My favorite Daddy Blogger? Well, you, of course. But there are others. One other daddy blogger that comes to mind is Peefer (Peefer's Home). He writes about his kids often (which I suppose is the hallmark of a "daddy blogger"), and he writes very well. I like peefer and his writing a lot, you should all check him out. Just don't shoot peefer in an alley, you might get arrested.
As to your second question Phil, I'd have to say that one of our favorite things to do so far in and around the Spokane area (I'll have to expand it to North Idaho as well) is to visit Walter's Fruit Ranch in Green Bluff (all times of the year), and also visit Sandpoint in the summer. We love to do both, and our kids always look forward to these outings.
We also love to go downtown to, what the kids like to call, "the wagon park." We enjoy hanging around there, riding the Looff Carousel, and talking to the vagrants. It's lots of fun. Personally, I love getting lost in Aunties Book Store, and could do that for hours, if given the chance.
Other things we did around the Inland Northwest this past year was go to the lake with Bobness, and also Huckleberry picking with Bobness. Those two things were some of our top favorites this year, which we hope we'll get to repeat next year. We also went to the top of Mt. Spokane a couple of times, and Steptoe Butte once.
Every year it's different. We like lots of things, and we do lots of things. I'm sure it's the same with you. We've only lived here three years, and we haven't even begun to explore what all there is to do around here.
So, well, there you have it. I didn't really mean for this to become a round up of last years outings and events, but it just sort of turned out that way.
What do you all like to do around your neck of the woods?
A new commenter here at [synaptic disunion], using the moniker sumangali tania pink asked me the following questions:
1. favorite comedian and why 2. favorite cleaning produce and why 3. worst city ever visited and why 4. most boring question ever asked
I was once chastised for saying "you know, I really never listen to stand-up comedian's. I just don't like canned humor much." Which is, admittedly, a weird thing to say, since there are funny movies, that are indeed, billed as "funny." I suppose what the problem really is, is that I sometimes don't like being told "hey, this is funny." I suppose I'd rather just find out on my own.
Having mentioned that caveat, I still must answer question 1 I suppose. I like a few comedians, actually, but not completely. I liked Steven Wright, back in the day when he was popular. I liked Gary Larson (not really a comedian, I know, but I like is humor). I enjoy Jack Black's musical humor, and I liked David Cross on Mr. Show. Why? I don't know. I just like those guys. It's hard to really say why without coming across as opinionated, and sometimes shallow.
Now, on to question 2. Cleaning products. I like the cleaning product Simple Green, because it sounds like it's made of people. Heh...
Question 3. Worst city every visited? Well, I've been to a few, and I think I'd have to say that Miami is a place that I could do without seeing again. Why? Again, not sure why. Too fake maybe? I dunno. There might be a place in the future that I visit that might be worse. We'll just have to wait and see.
Most boring question every asked? Wow...probably the question I get asked the most often when I meet new people, which is "why don't you go by your first name." Still, it is an ice breaker.
My old friend A. Scott White (CaveatEmptor), who I've known since childhood (maybe even earlier) asks the following:
A two-part question:
1) Name one thing you liked about Texas (in general) that you miss now that you're up in Washington.
2) Try to name the main thing you like better about Washington than Texas.
Hello, Toadman.
What do I miss about Texas? Just one thing? I suppose if the "one thing" wasn't my extended family, I'd be chastised. However, it should go without saying that I miss my family. You see, all my siblings, my parents, my nieces, nephews, and most of my cousins, live in Texas.
I suspect, however, that Scott knows that I miss them, I suspect that he's asking about something else. So, I'll give him something else that I miss about Texas.
Thunderstorms. I miss the massively giant thunderstorms. I miss the way the ground shakes when the thunder rolls, I miss the hours of brooding oppression while watching the Rhode Island sized storm clouds move in over the vast prairie. This just doesn't happen up here. There are thunderstorms, to be sure, but the Thunder is weak, tinny, and doesn't rumble in your gut and rattle the windows like it does down there. The thunder here doesn't make you feel a small.
The second question is pretty easy. I DON'T miss the sprawl. Or rather, I like that there isn't as much urban sprawl here. I like that I can drive for less than ten minutes and be in a pine wood forest, or wheat covered farm land. Or, I can drive just a little longer, and be on top of Mnt. Spokane. I like that.
It was almost shocking when we returned to Texas recently, for Thanksgiving, to be driving from my parents home in Boyd, toward the thriving metropolis of Fort Worth, and notice that many of the open prairies were now covered with tract homes as far as I could see. It was disorienting to see the tops of houses on the horizon, instead of the soft roll of the north Texas grasslands. It was a travesty, and a surprise, to see deer at my parents place one night. Deer that have been displaced by the growing city, and have been pushed out of their supporting prairie . I don't miss the massive crush of humanity. Not at all. I like small, quaint, open. That's the main thing I like about Spokane, and the inland northwest, in fact, and I'll fight to keep it this way.
I've decided to break up these answers into individual posts, so I can take more time to answer them. Our first question comes from Scott aka SRH (Under Construction). Scott asks:
What is the absolute worst meal you have ever had to eat? One where you were expecting better, not some soggy trail mix in the rainy Pac NW story either. Who prepared said meal, and what was the unfortunate occasion?
Well Scott, that might be hard for me to answer, since I am probably the most non-complaintive person with regards to food that most people have ever met. I never turn down a meal, especially free meals. This is, to be sure, one of my downfalls, and one of the reasons I'm in the shape I am today (pear shaped, that is). I am being completely honest when I tell you that I'll try anything. I've had squid, alligator, gnu, seaweed, zebra, snake, and I even had squirrel and dumplings once. Don't dare me to eat something, you'll lose.
I do, however, have comments to make about food. I am not simply a caloric compactor, I do discern taste, smell, texture, and a wide array of flavors. Ah..flavor. That's the point of food, is it not? Flavor says it all. Flavor gives you the 'message' of the item in question. Flavor tells the 'story' of the food. Indian food is spicy, and speaks to the herbs and spices available in India. It's the same with Chinese, Korean, Vietnamese, or even Mexican food. Therefore, when I encounter food that has very little discernible flavor, I can honestly say that it is less than adequate. For, if there is no flavor, I may as well be eating a calorie cube.
I recently attended a holiday party where there was a marked lack of flavor to many of the dishes. I've noticed, since moving here to the Inland Pacific Northwest (Spokane, to be exact), that it seems to me that Inland Northwesterners are literally 'afraid' of flavor. "Not too much pepper please, it's too spicy." Huh? Black pepper too spicy? Oh, then I'll just throw the Cayenne out the window, shall I? Yes, I think I shall.
But still, flavor isn't all about spice, is it? No. It's about...well, flavor. I noticed several dishes that seemed like they didn't even have salt added. Salt dehydrates food slightly, and draws out the moistures from within that hold in the true flavor of the food. Too much salt, and you've ruined the dish, not enough, and it's still bad. A good dish shouldn't need any salt, but should be spiced just right.
Let me be perfectly clear that there were some dishes with plenty of flavor at this party. It just seemed that an inordinate amount of dishes were, well, bland. Tasteless, and indeed, unfortunate. Perhaps those who made the dishes, the attendees of the party (it was a pot luck), were just poor cooks. But I'm just not sure. It seems that many of the potlucks I've attended here in the Inland Northwest have had several dishes of the bland and tasteless variety. It's more than coincidence, I fear.
So...there you have it. Question number one has been well and truly answered, I think.
Today, here at [synaptic disunion] (inc.), we are going to engage in something that is a blatant copyright infringement. We are going to answer your questions.
HeatherAnn does it, SRH does it from time to time, so why not the good people (person) here at [synaptic disunion]?
You've always wanted to ask questions of the toadman, right? Haven't you? Well, even if you haven't, this is your chance. Ask me anything, and I'll answer them to the best of my ability whenever there are enough questions to fill a post.
So, please post your questions in the comment area!
Have you ever been poked in the eye by words? I have recently. It hurt. I had no idea it was coming, but I should have. I should always be prepared, but then, I was never a Boy Scout.
Anyway, I have also recently admitted to not being able to write "funny" things. I don't do "funny" well, like others in the blobosphere. Scott does funny. Brando, until he became so tired of his own pickled writing and quit, did funny well. I know other people who are not bloggers and do "funny" writing quite well.
I, however, do not.
Still, I do funny things that I can relate to you, and might make you laugh. Like this past weekend, when we were out getting our Christmas Tree in Green Bluff. It rained. It poured. It was wet and cold and miserable. So, because of these conditions, we hastily found the best tree of the bunch, cut it down with minimal ceremony, and lugged the brute back to the car. The wife and kids safe and dry inside the car, I started to tie the tree on the roof of the car. I had my wife crack the windows so that I could tie the string through the inside of the car, and therein made my greatest mistake.
When I was done, and surveyed my hastily done handiwork, proud of my tight knots, pulling and tugging to assure myself that the tree wouldn't be lost on the drive home, I realized, much to the amusement of my wife and children, my own mistake. I could not open the door of the car. I had tied myself out of the car, and them, in.
I had to climb into the window of the car.
On the way home, my wife brought up a good point.
"Honey, how are we going to get OUT of the car when we get home?"
One thing is for sure, we get more gifts from England than you do...at least I'd bet we do...unless, of course, you're living in England. Ours come from a nice lady we like to call "marmie."
"Marmie" gives us scrummies. She gives us books. She gives us surprises and christmas boxes and tubes and stuff that the mail carrier has to bring separately from our other mail.
I fully expect to find marmie herself, bound up in brown paper and tape, sitting on our front porch one day. That'll be the biggest surprise of all. Thanks again marmie, for the surprises and the gifts!!! You WILL be getting something from us as well, as soon as we can figure out what to send.
"I don't want to turn around." He said, after considering for a while.
"You must have faith." The woman said.
"Faith in what? Faith is nothing but the blind belief in a fantasy." He said, with some bitterness.
"For some, maybe. But for many, faith is the act of balancing hope against doubt. Do you have hope?" She said.
"I did, once."
"Turn around." She said, quietly.
He turned around and saw a cave in the ice, a blue light filtering through it. The shape of the cave was that of the woman, the silhouette, but she was nowhere to be found. He walked into the cave, and could see that there was a soft warm light issuing from the farther end of the cave. The cold bit at his hands and his feet. Soon he couldn't feel his legs, or his arms, but he pressed on. Just as he thought he would lose consciousness, he saw it, a green and pleasant land. He saw it as if through a mist, or a cloud. He heard the sound of a little river, it seemed to be singing a tune that his little Diamond had sang so many times before.
Then, from over a distant green hill, a boy came running. It was Diamond, his little Diamond. He tried to reach out, but he could not feel the rest of his body. He felt like a spirit watching, unseen. Little Diamond ran in circles and laughed, other children joined him and danced together on the grass. He smiled, and was happy. Hope returned in his heart as he watched, then all went dark.
"Wake up! Oh please! Wake up father!"
He was drenched. The taste of salt water on his lips told him all he needed to know. He could hear the sounds of surf mingled with the muffled sounds of people running and coming closer to him. Someone was already there, however, hovering over him and grasping him and lifting him off the rocky ground, but he couldn't see anything, all was complete blackness.
"He'll be fine miss, just let us get him back....it don't look like he broke nothing."
He moaned as they picked him up and carried him off. He had, however, finally found peace.
I suppose many of you are interested in how TexMex'06 went. Well, it went well. Scott is well. Rick is well. Susan is well. Monica seems well, despite being married to Rick. The other "non-bloggers" who attended, were well as well. Rick mentioned "blogging" in mixed company once (bloggers and non-bloggers together), but I think we got away without being thought of as TOO nerdy, but I'm not so sure.
Scott and Susan's children are alot bigger than I remember them, or else, I've gotten smaller, I couldn't tell. I hope it's the latter, because I don't want to be as old as it would take for them to be so much older now.
The paparazzi were not allowed in our private room. We talked and drank and ate and enjoyed each other's company. It was a good gathering of old ghosts and old friends. I'm proud to be thought of by Scott as one of his "basic elements, original people." I'm pretty sure he's one of mine as well.
So it goes without saying that I should end with this, for all of you...
The trees looked different. That's the first thing he noticed. They seemed slightly bigger, almost overgrown, a little out of place, like him. Time and distance had somehow changed him, or this place, or both.
Memories flooded back as he floated from place to place. Childhood here, friends there, college here, first child there. He talked with other old ghosts, drank and ate with people he hadn't seen in years, and enjoyed it all. But this was no longer home. This is what used to be home. While it was a part of him, it wasn't what he was now. It was good to visit, it's always good to visit the past, but it was good to come back as well.
