Archive for September 2012
Lake Views
We are up at the lake, after all. Yes the trees are peaking in their autumn splendor, but the clear, blue, sunny skies, and summer-like temperatures have the lake looking very inviting. Dip your toes into these images…
Scenic Detour
This weekend, we are taking a short break from packing, and visiting our lake paradise with Cyndie’s parents. On the way up, Cyndie and I took a little detour, by way of the property we will be purchasing. I tried to capture some photos of the drive.
Here is one of the views from the lovely back road route we favor, shortly after crossing into Wisconsin:
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
This is a view of the street the driveway is on, looking from the north:
To the south, our street intersects with County Highway N.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
This is a view up the driveway. Welcome home, John and Cyndie! (Soon!)
In Case
In case you were wondering what it might look like when Cyndie and I look out at the autumn woods beyond the deck at our new house, here are a couple of photos Cyndie captured during a recent visit, to give you an idea what we are in for…
Simply Vote
I am an unabashed apolitical person, (although not void of opinions), who values being able to vote. Last night we did a little research into how our move will complicate our methods of voting.
On the surface, it seems simple. We need to live in Wisconsin for 28 days to be eligible to vote there. Not gonna make that.
The State of Wisconsin Election Office web site suggests you simply vote from your former address, if you moved less than 28 days before the election. As if it was that easy.
According to the State of Minnesota Election office web site,” it is illegal to vote from an address at which you no longer reside.” So much for using our former address!
It is back to Wisconsin for us, where we will be eligible to vote a Presidential only ballot.
It’s better than nothing, but I will be really sad if any of the candidates or issues I support end up failing by 1 vote.
Shared Journey
During the last year that I lived on a farm, when I was an 8-year-old boy, the bus that picked me up for school also picked up 9-year-old Cyndie Friswold from a neighborhood 1-mile to the north. Little did I know, riding that bus together back then, that our lives would eventually intertwine and lead to sharing 20 acres of woods and pasture in the beautiful countryside of southwest Wisconsin.
We didn’t know each other back when our families lived so close to each other. I didn’t really know her when we first met as teenagers. We fell for each other a short time after that first meeting, but never really dated exclusively during those high school years. There were plenty of spans of time when we were separated by physical distances during the years prior to getting married, which, in hind sight, just might have served us well for the times like last year, when Cyndie was in Boston.
I certainly didn’t expect that we would also end up sharing back ailments. For a few years now, Cyndie has been struggling with knee and hip pain. There are a variety of issues at play, but we both figured the primary problem was an arthritic hip. One doctor opinion she received while in Boston served to support our theory.
Since returning to Minnesota, Cyndie has been accompanying me on my morning walk and the follow up exercise sessions. Recently she visited a local doctor to get a confirmation of her hip-joint issues. That resulted in a surprise. She was told it wasn’t a hip problem or a knee problem, it was a back problem!
Yesterday that diagnosis was confirmed by a back specialist. She has the classic symptoms of a herniated disc impinging her L4 nerve. We will be sharing our workouts to build core strength toward taking pressure off of our aging discs.
We’ve come a long way together, from that shared bus route, to our similar back ailments. We can hardly wait to get to our next shared adventure, on our new property in Wisconsin.
Inexplicability
.
.
Recalcitrant Ramblings of an Unrepentant List-Maker
.
last thing remembered
burned out lightbulb
dated rock ‘n’ roll song
increasing threats of global conflict
poached ivory tusks
sleepy eyelids
yesterday’s headline news
one shred of dignity
whole wheat toast
glass with dried milk-ring
fact-finding missions
old tennis shoe, unlaced
lost penny
leaves along the curb
empty woven basket
one more time around the bend
.
.
Packing Drill
You know the drill. We are packing, yes we are. There is so much to be dealt with that I find myself a little overwhelmed. I like to have a plan, but I am just a peon compared to the way Cyndie processes things, and her methods tend to swamp any thoughts I might have about how to organize the monumental task.
My methods thus far have been a bit random. I went into our closet and pulled out all of my stuff, filling duffels and travel bags in my collection, with clothes I will keep, but don’t expect to wear in the next month. Last night, I already needed to dig into the bags to pull out proper attire for a wedding we attended.
I gathered all of my camping gear and put it in one box, clearly labeling the box, before Cyndie could mix my things with hers and pack it away where I may never find it again. Obviously, my methods are only a bit random, as I am partially operating in a mode of self-preservation by preemptively packing specific things I wish to have some control over.
This is the first time in my life when I have had to make an entire move in one large trip, and thus, ever needed to have everything prepared in advance for someone else to load and unload. It is a different beast to be reckoned with.
Friday, after having pulled every last item out of our electronic entertainment cupboard, except the primary components, themselves, I ended up with a pile of items I didn’t know whether to keep, or throw. The stack remains on the floor in that room. It consists of VHS tapes that probably tell the stories of our lives, but which no longer match the equipment we have in place to view them. More than once, we planned to have them converted to digital, but that keeps not happening.
There are also a variety of old software discs and books, which probably deserve to be discarded, but seem so un-trash-like that it is going to take an extra day or two before I can convince myself to just jettison them.
Yesterday, in effort to avoid that pile of stuff, I redirected my focus to purging some files. I dug out the manuals we have saved. I want to gather all of the things that pertain to the appliances of this house, to leave for the new owners. It was a kick finding how many documents we have been storing for items that are long gone from our lives. We giggled our way through them in a trip down memory lane.
There was the warning sheet about assembling the crib properly. That piece of furniture is long gone. Does anyone else keep the little flyers from their Conair curling irons and blow dryers? Or their Casio watches? Apparently, we have bought a lot of those devices over the years. Cyndie couldn’t remember how long it has been since we had a hot-air popcorn popper. We still have the manual for it.
I am hoping that the discovery of all these documents that we have never, ever pulled from the files for reference, …that we wouldn’t even think to look for in the file of manuals, will inform our future decisions on what deserves to be kept, and what doesn’t.
Deep Memories
A friend once asked me what it was like to have had such an idyllic childhood, after I described what I remembered about my early years growing up on a farm. Yes, that property which my grandfather purchased after the end of World War II was a great place for a kid to live. I’m discovering it may have made more of an impression on me than I have been aware. (See posts about that farm, published here in Relative Something, 3-years ago, starting here.)
Yesterday, Cyndie and I drove to visit the property we are soon purchasing, and then have dinner at a local restaurant in recognition of the 31st wedding anniversary we reached this past week. Part of me was interested in departing during rush hour, to get some exposure to what the traffic pattern is like at a time of day I may be trying to get home from the day-job. The rest of me didn’t really care much at all about that, because, regardless the traffic, the destination is just so incredibly thrilling.
The late September afternoon couldn’t have been any more perfect, for the crisp, clean air, bright sunshine, and, sprawling out in front of us, to the east, a spectacular cloud formation that grew increasingly dark-gray at the bottom, washing down to earth, as a result of the rain falling out of it.
I had it in mind to turn off the primary highway, shortly after we crossed into Wisconsin, to check out local roads that appear to be the most direct route to our property, as viewed from overhead on a map.
Our dreamy fairy tale of discovering this perfect property is one that just couldn’t be any better, …except it keeps becoming more so.
Getting off the main road, with its wide frontage and striped pavement, and onto scenic, rolling, narrow country roads, turned out to be better than I imagined. Some of the pavement is even freshly laid this summer. The scenes that unfold include dramatic vistas of forested hills and picture-perfect swaths of farmed fields. So much of the drive to our property is akin to staring into a multitude of fabulous paintings of quintessential country landscape scenery, it feels surreal, especially after decades of driving in the suburban metropolitan scene-scape of which we are long familiar.
When we pulled up the driveway (which Cyndie had me check on the car’s odometer: a quarter of a mile long), and I considered the thought that this would be my entrance to home every day, there was a sense of awe that felt supernatural. It also felt familiar, like this is a return to something I know from long ago.
I can’t help but think of my father, and his experience on the farm property his father had purchased. There are some deep-seated memories being awakened by this wonderful wooded property in the country. I’m not entirely sure whether I am recognizing my father’s experience, or my own childhood memories.
I think the familiarities that would come from both, are probably shared.
Song Crushes
Here we go again, two-fold! I now have two new songs that are jumping out at me at the same time.
The first one of the two to get my attention recently has the banjo sound that I have always been fond of, and an energizing amount of crescendo. I have heard other Mumford & Sons songs and been drawn to their sound before, but the new release has made a different impression on me. It has led me to actually look up the band, to learn their history and discover member’s names. The song is, “I Will Wait,” the first single released from their latest album, “Babel.”
I am partial to the studio version, but the version I found at the time of this posting is of them performing live. It will suffice:
….
The second song is a surprise for me. When I heard the radio DJ introducing a new song from Bob Dylan, I was intrigued. I automatically wanted to like it. Unfortunately, from the start, I was disappointed. I didn’t like what I was hearing. However, by the time the song ended, I was singing along. When I had a chance to hear it a second time, I found myself excited to hear it. Like has happened for me many times before, the initial sounds that didn’t appeal to me, now came across as desirable. And I get hooked by that chorus. Go, Bob, go. “Duquesne Whistle.”
Relative Something 