Tuesday, January 29, 2008
snowed in...
There is currently about two feet of snow in our yard, give or take a few inches. I can't be sure because I can't get the yardstick all the way down to the level of the grass because the snow down that far is compacted and icy. So, two foot is just a guess. One thing is for sure, it's deep. I know..."duh".
Today I cleared the roof above the front porch, as it is metal, and flat. I do NOT want to have anything cave in, you know? I also shoveled the walk for about the tenth time since Sunday morning. Sunday afternoon I shoveled our entire driveway. We don't have a snow blower, and it wouldn't work anyway, since our driveway is the last one on our street that's still gravel.
But you know, so long as we don't lose power, or run out of food, I've been happy about this latest bout of heavy winter. It's beautiful, and so good for the soil. I walk around after I shovel, catching my breath, and I look into the deep cracks of the snow. It's a deep blue, deep in the cracks. The color of cold.
Oh, one last thing, that bird feeder? Yeah...I broke it today. Ugh...
...when there's nothing else to say...
An event happened at work this week, which has had a profoundly strange effect on me. Dealing with it will be a little odd. So, while I'm working myself out, I'll leave you with this song, which seems to help me today:
powered by ODEOthere's a thought in my mind
and there's nothing not far behind
there's a road there's a path
there's a freeway and there's a map
there are flies and blue skies
and the just and the unjust
all walk side by side
there's a fog in my mind
and there's nothing not far behind
there is wrong there is right
there is peace and there's a fight
there is life there is death
and the difference between either one
is one single breath
there are flies and blue skies
and the just and the unjust
all walk side by side.
Lyrics/Music: KingsX
Song: Flies and Blue Skies
Album: Dogman
Photo Credit: Travis Swicegood
Thursday, January 24, 2008
we watch in reverence, as Narcissus is turned to a flower....a flower?
A blog. That's what this is. A blog. It's a horrible word. Like Jerry Seinfeld said, it sounds like something you just gobbed up onto the floor after a lengthy coughing session. A disgusting word, really. I like to call this site, a journal whenever I talk about it to people, which is, admittedly, quite rarely.
We never like to admit that we're being self absorbed when we post our thoughts for the world to see, but we are, really. Having a blog is not a selfless act, by any stretch. I've found something interesting, though, about the persona that people see when they read this journal of mine. It has been put to me that I am Deep, by a new friend recently. Ah...if he only knew, right? Of course right (as my wife would say).
My mother told me once that I was very introspective. I think this means I have an aptitude for sitting around and thinking about things a lot. I don't know if this equates me with deep or not, but I'm certain it has nothing to do with intelligence. You see, for all the time I've sat around and thought about things, you'd think that I would have, by now, come up with a solution or two to the things I think about. But the truth is, the more I think about things, the more my synapses get confused about things (hence the name of the blog). I've never solved anything that someone else hasn't already solved. I've never thought anything that someone else hasn't already thought first.
Another friend has put it to me that I am an old soul. I don't even know what that means, but I'm starting to feel old now. This friend has known me since I was six years old. That's thirty one years ago now. Sheesh. What makes her think I'm an old soul if she knew me when I pulled her pig tails?
I don't understand it, as usual. I think I'll go and be introspective about it, and see how much more confused I can get my synapses about these things. What do you think?
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
twig technology * ...
Ever since our first ancestor probed an anthill with a stick, things have gotten progressively worse and better at the same time. It's a paradox of sorts, it seems.
This morning, I was able to, through amazing advances in twig technology, heat a cup of coffee* without the need of electricity. I was also able to sleep last night, quite comfortably, even though temperatures outside were at or below 0 degrees Fahrenheit. After my coffee had self heated, I was able to take my son to school in warmth, in our warm shiny metal box on wheels. This same box transported me at dizzying speeds, through frigid landscapes, with no sense of the sub-zero wind chill only inches from my face.
Our twigs have become exceedingly useful, it would seem. We can live in the most extreme environments now, because of our twigs. Other advanced twig technology transports through invisible magic, sound and music and news to my speeding metal box, keeping me informed of others of my kind who are using their twigs to do bad things. It gives me ides about how we could counter their bad twigs, with some not so bad twigs.
Sometimes, though, I wonder if we haven't overused our twigs. Our twig technology has given us wonderful things. It has entertained us, given us warmth in the winter and cool in the summer. It brings us music and news from other far away twig users. But, to use all this twig technology, must we continue to poke and probe our twigs so much that they wound the very source of everything we depend on? I fear we may be overusing our twigs. Perhaps we should find some other way of drawing the termites out of the mound that doesn't wound the mound? I wonder if we can?
* The obvious bow to Douglas Adams is acknowledged.
* Click the words "heat a cup of coffee" to visit OnTech.com, makers of Hillside Beverages. The only beverages that are known (to me) to come with an MSDS Safety Data Sheet.
three days...
A good impression of myself Not much to conceal I'm saying nothing But I'm saying nothing with feel
Home. Three days. Home. Three days.
Do you understand?
Water so warm that day I counted out the waves As they broke into surf I smiled into the sun
It'll be like that. Away. Laying on my back, in the lake, suspended, blue overhead.
The water so warm that day I was counting out the waves And I followed their short life As they broke on the shoreline
Thank you Martin Luther King, for this day. I know your dream was for so much more, but it's the little things, you know? We dream your memory, but your dream is real, and is coming to pass, slower than it should. But the dream is still alive.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
to the bitter end...
I understand depression. I understand it well. I don't, however, fully understand self destruction. I understand giving in, but not giving up. I understand giving in because it's easier. I get taking the easy way out. But I don't understand taking ones own life. I don't fully understand suicide. I understand tragedy. Suicide is tragedy.
I do understand wanting to die with dignity. I do understand the advocates of doctor assisted suicide for the terminally ill who are in the late stages of their illness. I don't understand dying before it's time though. I don't understand leaving before it's over. I want to see it through to the end, and if I know when that end is, I want to know that I will have dignity, and peace.
Somewhere out there, there's a woman laying in a coma of her own making. Sometime today, the respirator will be removed, and we'll know if this time, she was successful or not. Tragedy, either way.
a patchwork of personalities...speaking in code...
It's a toss up, really. Do you like the ground in the picture at left when it's green, or when it's brown? Do you like it when it's all one color, or a multitude of colors? Me? Well, I like it when it's a multitude of colors, but when there's a preponderance of green. To much brown, and it starts looking like a desert.
Remember the dust bowl era? We now know that it happened because of a combination of sea temperature abnormalities, and a jet stream change. This caused all the brown areas to congregate in one area. When you get too much of this kind of area, you get dust storms. Bad dust storms. Dust storms that make people want to leave the area. These storms happen because all the areas of brown, congregated together in one place, tend to feed on each other, creating bigger problems than were there in the first place. The planet is lucky that the green came back after the dust bowl. Some places don't fare as well.
People also tell me this is just normal. They tell me that places go through stages. I've seen dust storms before, but they aren't as bad now as they used to be. The storms are more localized now, and less spread out, but as they shrink, they seem to intensify, like water does the closer it gets to the drain. I just hope that the green comes back. I've seen some green around the area, some new green. There was some good green, that's now gone. Gone for good. There's also some old green that never left, and is struggling to hold on. I just hope my environment can find a better balance, and soon.
sir edmund..
I listened to the eulogies and stories about Sir Edmund Hillary all this week, the week of his passing. Did you know there's a place, toward the top of Mt. Everest that climbers call the Hillary Step, where you can't see what's coming next, and you have to essentially climb blind for a short bit...or so I understand it from the stories. However, ever since Hillary did it, the climbers know what's coming next, so I suppose he was the only one to do it "blind."
What amazing courage. What drive. What ambition. What an eccentric nutter. Still, I think he was one of the great men of our time. He never called himself anything more than just a bee keeper, as that was his trade. He never touted his intelligence, going so far as to say that he wasn't too bright, after all.
Listening to stories and accolades about his life, naturally makes one think of ones own life. What have I done that's like that? What could I possibly do, to be honored like Hillary has been? Am I destined to go on with life, blindly, not even knowing what tomorrow holds?
One of the radio stories that I heard about Sir Edmund Hillary quoted him as saying If you embark on an adventure knowing the outcome, you may as well never even leave! Every day is a Hillary Step.
Rest in peace, Sir Edmund Hillary(July 20, 1919 - January 11, 2008).
Thursday, January 10, 2008
the bell curve...
Recently, a local seventh grader dropped dead in front of his middle school. An apparently unnoticed heart problem was the cause. One minute, he was engaged in a snowball fight, the next, he was gone.
This kind of thing always brings into sharp relief how tenuous life is, how temporary and short. It goes without saying that the older you get, the more likely you are to wake up alive in the morning, simply because of your increasing success rate at doing just that. We do things to our bodies, however, as we get even older, that start us on the downward spiral on the far side of the bell curve of that statistic. We reach the point of diminishing returns.
Still, outliers exist. You might be one. I might. Dropping dead at any point along the bell curve isn't outside the realm of possibility. We are held together with tendons, microscopic capillaries, and tiny vessels that transport our bodies needs from one place to another. We are strung together with magic glue and hope, and the tiniest thing can throw things off, cause us to stumble, fall, and never get up. This strange engine in our chest, as regular as it seems, is all that keeps us from being active one minute, to being non-existent the next.
We are temporary. We are momentary. Life is short, live it. Kiss your wife more often, I know that I should. Kiss your children, your dog, your cat, your mailman, if he'll let you. Smile more, complain less. Life is momentary, life is temporary, life is tenuous. Enjoy it while you're here.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
...on proving my mettle
My southern brethren would have a term for me. Damn Yankee, they'd call me. But last night, just past the T.J. Meenach Bridge, in Spokane, I proved my "damn yankee" driving mettle.
You see, we got snow yesterday. Lots of snow. Driving conditions worsened on my drive home. But I wasn't thinking about that when I exited Garden Springs off I-90. I was just thinking about coming home, and I habitually go that way, down the hill, on to Government Way, up past Spokane Falls Community College, and over T.J. Meenach bridge. When I got to the bridge last night, there was a bit of a commotion, fire trucks going this way and that way, trying to get by, and I had to stop my forward momentum, half way up the hill past the bridge, because someone had messed up and gone over the embankment (much to their surprise, I'm sure.).
Conditions were slick...very slick...and here I was, stopped on a pretty good incline, NOT moving. I let go the brake, the car held itself. I pressed on the gas, only slightly, and the front of the car slid to the left a tiny bit. This could be bad, I thought. Assessing the situation: Fire SUV in my lane, people slowly skidding up, passing me on the right, no oncoming traffic...maybe I can turn around...assess the situation there....nope.. blocked. Two police cars and a massive firetruck. I'd slide right into them. Oh well, forward it is then.
I pressed on the gas again, gently. I turned the steering wheel right and left slightly, attempting to gain purchase on the pavement. This paid off slightly, but not enough. So I sat. I watched firemen physically turn a GMC Jimmy SUV ahead of me around by simply pushing it...slickness ahead, it seems.
With only sipped tires, and no studs, I was beginning to wonder if I'd be able to make it up the hill. But I had to try again. There was a break in the traffic to my right, so I made my move. Drop the car to (automatic) to it's lowest gear. Gently press on the gas, very gently. Then...purchase. I began to crawl. Don't stop. Keep moving...slowly upward...and home.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
what to write, what to write...insert synonym for "random" here.
I need something to write about. I really do.
I could write about the children. People always like that. Our youngest is growing by leaps and bounds. He's crawling, pulling up, and in the early stages of 'cruising' and trying to say words. Our middle child is growing too. He's sensitive and loving, imaginative and creative. Oldest is intelligent and imaginative, and getting taller every day.
I could write about the weather. We're expected to get another four to seven inches of new snow in the next twenty four hours, on top of the four to seven we already have. I look forward to it, even though it slows down my commute, and presents a new challenge every day.
I could write about work, but I won't even go there.
I could write about the current presidential race. I like that Obama, he's cool and speaks well, and I agree with a lot of what he says, but not all. Fred Thompson scares me. I like that McCain, he seems nice, but I don't agree with everything he says. I took an online test that aligned me with Kucinich. Online tests are SOOOO accurate, thank goodness I took it. I guess I'm a radical Birkenstock wearing hippie after all. Still, I bathe.
I don't like talking about politics though, it divides people. I don't like that, so I'll stop.
I could mention that I added a HaloScan/JS-Kit widget (temporarily) to my blog. You'll notice it at the bottom each post. A rating system comprising of 'stars.' Here are my current 'star' rating system definitions:
One Star = "My eyes melted when I read your post this morning Toadman. Please stop."
Two Stars = "This post drug me behind a pickup truck and caused me grievous bodily injury, please cease and desist."
Three Stars = "This post had words that were in an order in which it kind of made sense, but I'm still not sure."
Four Stars = "This post did not harm me in any way."
Five Stars = "This post was written by someone who knows how to string letters into words, in the correct order so that they form sentences with complete thoughts."
So, you see, I don't expect to get to five stars any time soon.. still, it's something to work toward I suppose.
Have a great day everyone! Enjoy the world around you, change is in the air (and becoming a buzzword.).
nothing to say today...
It's cold and snowy today. It'll be cold and snowy tomorrow. Life moves on with regularity despite the cold and the snow. We move forward through it all.
I'm fine today, just busy. How are you?
powered by ODEO
Well, do you ever get the feeling that the story's
too damn real and in the present tense?
Or that everybody's on the stage, and it seems like
you're the only person sitting in the audience?
Skating away on the thin ice of the New Day.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
recurrence...
I suppose you could call it a recurring dream, though it doesn't occur very often. Still, it's the same place each time, with only minor variations. It's a mansion, of sorts, but it has oddities. The ground floor is comprised of a giant ballroom. I only ever see it from above because there's a balcony surrounding two adjacent sides of the square room, with no stairs down that I can ever see. Floor to ceiling windows grace the other two adjacent sides. The windows are ornate, square, and frosted. The walls of the upper floor are dark wood. Very dark. The carpeting on the balcony is worn through in places, scuffed up beyond repair, but in places it can be seen that it was once ornate 19th century patterned black paisleys on a background of dark burgundy. There are people in the ballroom below. I don't know who they are. I never do. I turn away from the dark wood railing, and enter the door behind me.
This room is high ceilinged, and dark but for a few candles and a fire in a large fireplace. Dark tapestry-like wallpaper is on the walls, but is peeling in places, and has watermarks from leaks in the walls and ceilings in others. The darkness is caused by the thick, dark, curtains that are covering the large windows. These windows are on either side of the massive fireplace. The fire in the fireplace is small, but there's still almost enough room for a child to walk into the firebox, and stand next to the fire without being in danger of being burned. There is soot above the opening of the fireplace and it looks well used but relatively maintained. There is a high backed couch or two, their coverings threadbare with age and use. The floor is wood, but either darkly stained, or burned, or blackened with age. It creaks loudly as I walk across it to the window, threatening to give way with each step. This place seems old, older than it should.
Pushing back the curtain, reveals single paned windows, some of which are cracked, most of which are frosted with age, and I cannot see outside. Cobwebs fill the corners of the window wells, and I let the curtain close, and turn around. That's when I see a wall of books. Old leather bound books of every size and shape, all in varying states of decay. The books cover the entire wall that was at my back when I walked through the door. The stacks are from floor to ceiling, and are even over the space above the door. I walk toward them, stand in front of a row, reach for one, and wake up...every time.
warm and cold and bright and over...
I could describe for you in detail all of the things we did over the holiday break. I could tell you about each day since I took vacation time starting on the 21st of December. I'll spare you the details, however, and just tell you that we had a nice time. We celebrated an 8th birthday, we received a multitude of boxes from points south, and points across the pond. We ate lovely food, we slept in late, we talked about things, we went sledding, we built snow forts and had an historic snowball battle. We drank hot chocolate, we sat by a fireplace...oh, and we folded clothes.
My little family isn't perfect. We had our moments of contention, but overall, we had a nice Christmas Holiday (we celebrate Christmas, you see.). We celebrated the new year (we follow the Judeo-Christian calendar also, you see.).
Now, I'm back. Now, we're attempting to get back on schedule. That's hard.
Happy new year to all!
