Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
New Parts
I decided to practice a little preventative maintenance on my log splitter and ordered spare parts before they completely failed. I had noticed that the nylon impact bushing was beginning to deform and one of the washers on the bottom spacer had already fractured.
In a quick search, I found that both of these parts were readily available to extend the life of the product, so I made the buy. In this picture, I’ve already installed the new parts and bagged the old ones, which I’ll store in the off-hand chance of future unexpected failure.
I saw in the review comments for the parts that some folks had the impact bushing fracture. It has helped me to be more aware of how my use of the splitter stresses these parts. I am less driven to pound away on a log that is obviously not giving in to the idea of my wanting it to split.
The temperature was just about to climb above freezing when I started yesterday and the frozen wood was snapping apart with minimum effort. I was thinking I should get Cyndie to record a video to demonstrate how slick this tool is. I’m glad I didn’t, because no sooner than having that thought did my luck swing and the wood changed to stringier oak. I also came to a few Y-shaped pieces. These reveal the amazing strength at that junction which allows branches to support such incredible amounts of weight in big old trees.
You need to pick your angles carefully to convince the wood to separate at the junctions where branches Y off.
When a log is particularly resistant to the intrusion of the Smart Splitter wedge, I employ the added incentive of the orange twisting wedge and some pounding with the traditional splitting maul. It makes for a lot more effort, but I surprise myself by the eventual success I’ve been able to achieve in the face of some pieces that look like they would require the power of a machine.
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I had a nice session of progress, saving a couple of the bigger challenges for later, since my energy had declined as morning turned to afternoon and it was time for some lunch. Later, on my way to another task, I stopped to muscle the last two challenges.
I have incentive to get our current piles of wood split and stacked in the shed. This coming Thursday and Friday is our appointment for the tree trimmers to come cut high branches from our old trees. I’ve instructed them to focus solely on dropping branches that are out of my reach.
I will cut and split, or shred with the chipper, all the wood that comes to the ground so they don’t end up wasting any precious time (or our limited funds) on something I can do later. I think that cleanup project has the capacity to become an ongoing chore that will last me for the rest of the year.
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Sunrise Greeting
Wednesday morning, as Cyndie was making her way in the sub-zero cold with Delilah for the first walk of the day, she captured this wonderful view of Dezirea, alone in the back pasture as the sun climbed above the eastern horizon.
Thank you for sharing, Cyndie!
Last night, when I stepped out with the dog for her last walk before bed, and to roll the garbage bin down to the road, we were met by the magical glow of winter moonlight. It is such a striking contrast from the inky blackness we experience here on a moonless summer night.
Our end to the day was a nice bookend to the start that Cyndie captured at dawn.
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Shared Treats
Cyndie and I have been on a bit of a movie binge lately, cramming to see movies and actors nominated (and winning) for this year’s awards season. During the week, squeezing in a movie after dinner tends to leave Delilah feeling a bit neglected by the end of a flick.
Sometimes, she takes it out on Pequenita, unloading oodles of pent-up energy on the poor little feline. Of course, in very cat-like behavior, ‘Nita doesn’t hesitate to bait the over-zealous dog into stirring up more trouble than she bargained for.
Even though the two house-pets are sole animal companions indoors, their interactions tend to give off a strong aura of faux friendship. Frenemies might be an appropriate description of their relationship.
It can appear to be cute when large Delilah prances over and tentatively sniffs at teeny ‘Nita. The stoic cat looks like she is giving great effort to tolerate the attention, especially when Delilah suddenly unleashes a quick tongue-drag across Pequenita’s back. I get a little grossed out when I offer the cat a scratch on her back and find it’s wet.
The two of them have one venture where they cooperate well with each other, putting their usual antics on hold for brief moments. They meet in the kitchen and bat their eyelashes at Cyndie until she gives in and offers up some kitty treats. They are Delilah’s favorite.
The exercise of shared cat treats started way back when we were first trying to acclimate dog and cat to each other. The first positions were spread far apart, but each subsequent treat was placed closer and closer until they eventually grew comfortable eating side by side.
Cyndie and I have seen 5 of the 9 movies nominated for this year’s Academy Awards Best Picture. I think Pequenita will be happy to have us soon complete the last 4 and get back to having the time to entertain Delilah for a few more hours each evening.
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One Theory
I don’t understand why issues like brash disregard for ethical protocols, such as a refusal to release tax returns or to divest financial holdings to avoid conflicts of interest, goes unresolved and then is allowed to fade from view. The issues were never addressed, but they seem to have disappeared from the national dialogue.
It’s as if time heals all wounds. If we stop talking about the evidence of potential for kleptocracy, things will actually be okay. Maybe there will be no ethical violations by billionaires in government.
It feels like the difference of perceptions to the issues unfolding before us in this country are vast. It is hard for people to merge varying possibilities, so they cling to one extreme or another. The political anger that led folks toward making their choice on election day, and the reactions to what has happened since, could be seen as a natural product of that.
A theory about that political anger caught my eye in an NPR article yesterday.
Relative deprivation.
Being deprived of something a person thinks they are entitled to.
That is one way to explain the anger of the moment.
I’m feeling a little deprived of a collective common sense lately. And decency. And diplomacy, but I’d settle for just the common sense, if that were even possible.
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Which Way
In the months following Cyndie’s knee replacement procedure at the end of November, I admittedly neglected the labyrinth. Contrary to previous winters, this year I haven’t bothered to walk the path each time it snowed. On Sunday, Cyndie mentioned that she wanted to use the labyrinth again. It was time to tread that pattern.
It wasn’t as easy to execute the proper turns as I had hoped. With the rocks mostly buried, I needed to start from both the outer entrance heading in, and then from the center, heading out, before I figured out precisely where I needed to be.
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Once I had figured out the correct route, as we walked the path and chatted I began to notice a lift in my spirits. Cyndie pointed out something I had completely overlooked: she was walking on the snowshoes with her new knee. It was a noteworthy achievement.
I also discovered something else that was occurring.
My neglect of the labyrinth for the previous months had been intentional, giving me one less thing to tend to during Cyndie’s convalescence. During those months, I felt a small sense of pleasure over not spending any energy on it. What I didn’t realize was, ignoring the labyrinth was contributing to my feelings of hopelessness.
There was this duality again. (See comments with Jim on my post “Being Me.”) I didn’t want to have the labyrinth, and I did want to have it. Both feelings were present at the same time.
It feels like having Cyndie and the labyrinth both functional again is helping me to find my way once more.
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Teamwork Challenged
Yesterday, I experienced a classic example of a frequent challenge Cyndie and I have been navigating to varying degrees over the 35+ years of our life together as husband and wife. Our minds sometimes tend to operate out of sync from one another, despite our best intentions.
It was a beautiful winter day outside, with a lot of blue sky and sunshine, a comfortable temperature, and minimal breezes. We headed out to give Delilah some exercise by letting her run loose in the pastures while throwing discs for her to chase. We walked right past the horses, cutting through their paddock to get out into the hay-field.
On our way back in, Cyndie said she wanted to pay a little visit to the horses. While milling around with them, Cyndie decided to scoop some of the fresh manure under foot. That inspired me to grab a pitch fork and clean the edges of the large pile we have been creating during the snow season.
When she was done cleaning up, Cyndie said she would take Delilah out for one last session of running loose in the back pasture. In a very short time, I was commenting on their quick return.
“Delilah’s tired and I’m getting cold, so we are going to head up.” she reported.
I told her I would finish what I was doing and then follow them shortly. Earlier, Cyndie had asked me what shovel I had used in the past to make a winter path through the labyrinth. I told her the trick is to just walk the route wearing snowshoes, implying we could do that later in the day, after lunch.
As I walked up to the barn to put away my pitch fork, Cayenne turned and approached me for some loving. I soaked up her attention and lingered for what seemed like a long time to me, staying engaged as long as she maintained interest. It’s funny how much hot breath, wet nose, and sloppy tongue seems perfectly acceptable when a horse is choosing to nuzzle and mingle. I searched for a sweet-spot of scratching for her, moving between her ears, neck and chest.
Eventually, what ended our little love fest was Legacy, coming over from the other side of the overhang. I don’t know what reason he had to finally interrupt, but I tried spending a little time with him to see if he was just hoping for similar attention. Since he’s not as accommodating to hands-on affection, it comes across more as though he just doesn’t want her to be getting all the fun.
I finally made my way up to the house, ready for a break and some lunch. Stepping inside, I found no one there. Cyndie must have gone down to the labyrinth already, I thought to myself. Looking out back, sure enough, I spotted Delilah moving around down there. I rallied my energy and decided to join her.
First, I looked in the garage for the snowshoes, but couldn’t find them anywhere. Did we leave the second pair at the lake? Oh well, I’ll grab the plastic shovel, just in case I can find a way to use that to help. The shovel wasn’t where I keep it, either. Frustrated that I couldn’t execute my plan, I walked down empty-handed.
I arrived just in time. Cyndie said she needed my help with figuring out where the turns should be.
Imagine this, it turned out she had brought down the second pair of snowshoes and the plastic shovel, in case I wandered past on my way up to the house.
Now, why didn’t I think of that?
Welcome to my world.
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Being Me
It’s been a long time since I just let words flow from my fingertips without any preconceived notion of where I was heading or what would come out next. One reason for that is, it doesn’t tend to produce a result that holds much in the way of value for anyone reading other than me; and even I don’t get much from going back and reading the words that have piled up.
However, I’m feeling like lately my writing has settled into a somewhat humdrum pattern of dreary detail about waking up, driving to work, coming home, seeing our pets, clearing some snow, cleaning up after the horses, and lamenting over the news.
Where is my soul in this chronicle of the day-to-day?
When you write and publish a narrative of a personal everyday, there develops a pattern. The longer it goes, the more likely it can become something of a facade.
I suppose regular users of other social media are already well aware of this phenomenon.
It is likely that I am only writing what I want the world to know about me. Of course, there is probably a portion of who I really am that readers glean from my choice of subjects and words over time, which defines me more precisely than I think I am actually doing. But that is happening somewhere beyond words. It’s out there in our intuitive perceptions.
I guess I inherently accept that level of revelation.
I remember actually pondering over how to traverse the long walk in front of the packed bleachers of my high school gymnasium during basketball games without appearing to be the hypocritical fool I was attempting to be.
I was overly-selfconsciously trying to stroll as if I was not the least bit self-conscious about being an awkward adolescent walking in front of hundreds of classmates, parents, neighbors, friends, enemies, and strangers who shouldn’t care, or even notice me in the first place, yet were likely doing that very thing themselves; actually noticing and judging me whether or not they recognize the pettiness of doing so.
Hypocrisy.
I didn’t want to be a hypocrite. Somewhere along that adolescent time period, I experienced a profound epiphany that inspired me to strive toward being the same person in every moment. Regardless of whom I might find myself with at any given moment, I want to be my most genuine self. It’s not easy to achieve, but it is a noble goal.
I believe I have failed probably as often as I have succeeded over the years, but with that as my goal, the failures have been minor. I still judge others more than I mean to. I still say things behind a person’s back that I wouldn’t say to their face.
But I catch myself doing it most of the time, and that is the key to interrupting the pattern and making a correction toward the goal of integrity I ultimately seek.
One tool in aligning words with noble intentions is the art of saying nothing when you have nothing good to say. Another is to think before you speak (or write).
What I’d like to achieve is a place of enlightenment where I can write without thinking or filtering and have the flowing words reveal my pure soul and the narrative of the day to day, hypocrisy-free.
Wouldn’t than be a nice me to be.
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Holding Court
When the weather outside returns to single-digit cold, there is added incentive to spend a little more time indoors. After work yesterday, I sat down and leaned the recliner back for a little relaxing review of the latest newsworthy offerings from a multitude of front pages on the internet. 
It didn’t take long for our furry friends to join me at that location. Cyndie captured the moment for posterity. I was holding court with our crew.
I read them some of the most outrageous blurbs, but they both ignored the content. Delilah just wanted more scratching, while Pequenita simply wished Delilah would go away.
I switched to telling them tales from this week’s commute to and from work. One morning I had the pleasure of moving in a group of vehicles stuck behind the dreaded slow ambulance with flashing lights.
It moseyed along at a speed about 5 miles an hour slower than the prevailing desired rate of travel. No one dared to pass him, because if you are in front of an emergency vehicle with it lights flashing, you are supposed to pull over and let it pass. Meanwhile, other cars ahead of the ambulance were noticing the lights and pulling over, subsequently becoming added vehicles to our ever-increasing pack.
It was odd to see this huge group of cars slowly “rushing” down the highway together toward their diverse destinations.
On the way home, on a section of divided 4-lane expressway, I spotted a car ahead of me that was having dramatic difficulty maintaining position in the right lane, both crossing the center line and moving off to the right shoulder. It was a little scary to witness. I wondered if it was alcohol related or a case of texting while driving.
I decided to get around the car by passing in the left lane. As I made my way cautiously past, I glanced over to assess the likely reason for the poor lane management. I can’t swear it wasn’t alcohol related, but the easy explanation and my first impression was that it was probably age-related.
The driver was a little old man who could barely see over the steering wheel. I am fairly certain he wasn’t doing any texting.
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Full disclosure: No animals were injured in the creation of this post.
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More Nuisance
January closed out with the 17th day in a row of above average temperatures in this region, punctuated by another minor inconvenience of a snowfall that was more nuisance than anything else. With the warm temps, much of the snow was melting while it was also accumulating. Weird science.
Once again, enough snow to make a mess, but hardly enough to shovel.
The problem is, though, before it actually melts enough to offer clear walkways, colder air will be moving in to freeze everything up. After that, it becomes a mess that hangs around for a while.
As I got closer to work yesterday morning, the precipitation became more of a drizzling mist than snow. The heavily treated surface of the freeways stayed mostly wet, but as I came barreling up the off-ramp, I quickly realized I was carrying a little too much momentum.
By sheer luck, the traffic light was in my favor and I didn’t need to stop. I made my way gently to the parking lot and had my suspicions confirmed when I placed my foot on the slick pavement. There was a thin but very effective glaze on the road surface.
This was my second day of driving my Subaru after having picked it up from the body shop, looking good as new. The slippery footing gave me flashbacks of the day I got rear-ended.
I arrived so early, the daily paper hadn’t been delivered yet. That gave rise to a vision of the person sliding into my parked car when they pulled in to toss the news.
My car was safe and sound when I stepped out to check on the delivery. It looked like the driver had avoided my car by staying far away and throwing the bagged newspaper a longer distance. When it landed, the bag stuck to the icy pavement and the paper just kept on sliding. It was efficiently soaking up the wetness about 10 feet away from the bag.
Other staff didn’t have as much luck as me. Several people slid into a snowbank around a turn. After the facility maintenance truck showed up to add salt to the dangerous glaze, it slid around that same corner, smashing into one of our employee’s car in the process.
Makes the little bit of messy snow we have at home seem like a lot less of a nuisance in comparison.
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Liquid Water
Even with the temperatures back under 32° (F) all day and night again, there is water on one of our trails that hasn’t re-frozen. I can only guess that it might be because there is enough volume moving past that spot toward lower ground. Flowing water is more resistant to freezing.
It takes a long dry spell in the summer for that spot to completely dry out, so it is no surprise that water is present now. I just find it odd that there isn’t more freezing going on.
Walking along on the crunchy snow of the trail, it’s weird to suddenly come upon a splash and a squish on a cold winter day.
I suppose I should get used to it. Seems like this winter we are getting as many rain events as snowfalls. Today’s weather forecast includes chances of rain and snow with a high temperature of 38°.
This ain’t my daddy’s winter weather.
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