Tempting Fate
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen Cyndie carry this cracked bucket by the handle with around 20 pounds of water in it. As often as possible, I question her confidence in the reliability of the cracked plastic.
I wince at her usual response. “It hasn’t broken yet during all the other times I’ve used it.”
Yesterday morning, I asked her how upsetting it will be when that fractured plastic finally gives out and a bucketful of water spills all over her legs and boots. That is so not a risk I would take.
During my evening shift in the barn, I noticed the bucket hadn’t been returned to the usual spot near the spigot by the back door. She had placed it on this shelf in an apparent new adjustment of her risk acceptance.
We’ve got other perfectly intact buckets available for use, so there’s no need to keep using the cracked one.
I missed an opportunity to have “Santa” bring us a replacement bucket for Christmas this year.
I’m not entirely immune to taking risks, but I feel like they are less tangible. I don’t know why but I have a recurring urge to troll the Chinese Communist Party because of their overwhelming effort to squelch reality when it doesn’t align with their oppressive authoritarian agenda.
I know they can counter any U.S. questions about their human rights abuses by pointing out our history of slavery and attempts to destroy indigenous people’s culture, but that isn’t a fair comparison. The U.S. doesn’t deny those things happened and allows discussion on the topics.
From what I have read, the communist government of China doesn’t allow mention of the “Tank Man” and the violent crackdown on protests in Tiananmen Square in 1989. If no one can talk about it, that’s supposed to make it so that it never happened.
Now that I’ve gone and written those words, I suppose my risk of being hacked just went way up.
I blame CBS “60 Minutes” for their wonderful interview with self-exiled Chinese artist, Badiucao. I got inspired by his courageous activism in the form of creative art that speaks truth to power. Maybe it was because he has used Winnie-the-Pooh with Xi Jinping’s image.
Regardless, I should probably restrict my truth-speaking efforts to attempts of convincing Cyndie she shouldn’t trust the bucket handle not to finally give out just because it never has before.
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Holiday Afterglow
A particularly precious aspect of family gatherings over a holiday is the physical assembling in collective display of love and affection 
for each other and the sharing of our immediate concerns and joys. I am greatly blessed to be a member of Cyndie’s family and together we are humbled to be parents of two incredible individuals in our daughter, Elysa, and son, Julian.
The previous two days were filled with hours of family time, regardless of the growing threat of the highly contagious coronavirus spiking once again around the world. We will serve as examples of the full vaccination/booster combinations to constrain any possible infections from severe illness or forced hospitalization if sickness arises in the days ahead. We hold no confidence that the latest omicron variant was completely absent the whole time, despite the lack of any symptoms or known contacts in those present.
Out of an abundance of caution, not all family members chose to participate in-person, in order to protect those with greater vulnerabilities to the threats of infection.
This morning, Cyndie and I are warmed by the residual energized emotions of heartfelt sharing with so many relations we dearly love.
My body feels hyper-nourished and a little over-sweetened by the feasts we gleefully enjoyed. Man, this family cooks and serves regal holiday meals.
The time shared at the home of Cyndie’s mom in Edina was a bit more emotional than usual due to activity underway to prepare the house for sale and the thought process and physical work of transitioning Marie to new living space at Friendship Village in Bloomington.
The next few days will involve intense effort by many hands to replace Christmas decorations with a much more austere simplicity in preparation for the realty company to film the full walk-through for online “open house” reviewals.
I will do my part by holding down the ranch so that Cyndie can offer her full-time attention to helping her brothers carry out the herculean task of processing in just a few days, lifetimes of accumulated family possessions.
In a perfectly timed gift after my final day of commuting to a day-job, Elysa gifted me the perfect shirt reflecting one of the responsibilities that will become an enhanced focus of my increased hours available to manage the ranch.
The EFRU has gained a new full-time member and I couldn’t be more proud.
I feel great pleasure every time I push our wheelbarrow out of the barn door and under the overhang with a calm greeting of, “Housekeeping!” for our horses to know what comes next. It doesn’t hurt that they smartly recognize what usually follows the tidying up of their accommodations. That is when their feed pans are served up.
Today is my half-birthday. December 26th is always a day I feel rather celebratory in the afterglow of Christmas magic.
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Too Funny
My weather app didn’t get the memo. Look at the warning they sent me last night…
Nope. Other than the fact it is Christmas Eve and none of my former coworkers will be driving in this morning because the place is closed for the holiday, or the fact it is Friday and I haven’t worked on-site on Fridays for years, I’m not going to be doing that commute anymore.
They can adjust that warning for me to: Watch out for wet conditions in the paddocks and stay alert when moving around the horses.
Oh, what a relief it is to be done with navigating highway traffic during the twice-a-day commutes.
This feels like retirement already.
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Final Commute
I am one to never say never but in the case of commuting to the day-job that I have allowed to occupy my time for longer than I ever imagined since moving to the countryside of Wisconsin, today is my final time. Starting tomorrow, my ability to give my full attention to managing our Wintervale property will become my new primary occupation.
Another way to put it is, I am retiring. I am choosing to end a career that began in 1981 as a graduate of a technical education in electronics from an institution known for educating radio and television personality-hopefuls. Their electronic technology degree served me well and provided opportunities to work with some brilliant people on some breakout technologies over the years.
At that first job at a manufacturer of vacuum technologies for the surface analysis sciences, I was introduced to the nuances of manufacturing. During my 18-years with that company, I met and worked with Gary Engelhart, an electrical engineer who became the person I would follow to several different versions of system engineering and electronics manufacturing jobs for the rest of my days working in the field.
I tried to quit several times over the years, but Gary always made it clear I was welcome to return when my circumstances warranted. I am forever indebted to his confidence in my abilities. There is sadness in ending my time of working with all the staff at Gary’s electronics manufacturing company, but it is definitely offset by the thrill of claiming the rest of my days as my own.
I will not miss the stress of the day-job responsibilities.
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Starting tomorrow, here’s to leaving my car in the garage more often than not.
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Small Stones
In the realm of balancing stones, oftentimes, smaller ones are more challenging. While the balance might be less robust, frequent collapses are generally harmless and the re-balancing can be accomplished with minor effort. I had stones on my desk at work and would frequently close a drawer too hard and dislodge the top one in a stack of three.
There is a nurturing profundity in the exercise of repeatedly returning the stone to its previous balance.
Of course, in that instance, it was always just the top one that rolled away. A stack like the one pictured above would more likely involve them all tumbling down.
I am often intrigued by the mean time between toppling. It is a frequent surprise that a balance lasts much longer than I expect would be likely.
Small stone stacks as workspace trinkets are pretty much contradictory choices unless the desk is solid and the work is sedate. In more precarious environs, I see the small three-stone setup as available for temporary balancing diversions that can otherwise be allowed to lay around unstacked.
Three stones set in single-plane arrangements are no less enticing to a discerning eye. The energy of elements is still present.
Next time you see some eye-catching stones lying about, pick them up and experiment with balancing them, one on top of the next.
You just might find yourself keeping a stack as ornamentation on your desk.
They are pieces of our planet that provide a pleasant rock-solid reminder of our natural world for times we are stuck indoors.
And couldn’t we all do with a little more balance in our lives?
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Snowy Footsteps
Today is the start of winter. It feels closer to the middle of winter. Although, we did just have strangely warm temperatures and a weird December thunderstorm. Still, cold temperatures have become the norm and we have a slim inch of flakes dominating most surfaces.
The labyrinth hasn’t had more than a few stray animal footprints disturbing its blanket of white.
Delilah and I have been methodically distributing our footprints along most of our trails. I have a tendency to neglect seeing the depth of our woods when I am busy plotting my footsteps to widen the traveled snow path. I catch myself staring exclusively at the ground right in front of me.
I rely on Delilah’s nose to alert me that we might have some company nearby. On Sunday afternoon, Delilah was intently focused on something in the interior of our woods. As we approached an intersection of trails, I knew she wanted to go left based on the direction her nose had been pointing.
It took me a while, but eventually I decoded the camouflaged young doe’s big eyes and ears, frozen in a stare directly at us from around the large trunk of a tree. The longer I looked back at her, the more I was able to discern the rest of her body visible on the other side of the tree, too.
If Delilah hadn’t signaled someone was there, I would have been oblivious.
I would have noticed deer hoof prints in the area, though.
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Swingsing
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winter starts tomorrow
daylight will stop getting shorter
a pendulum swings the other way
laughter will sound as good as always
maybe better
contagious viruses be damned
swingsinging rules apply
top of our lungs
without a care
regardless who might hear
running at full speed
for longer than lungs should allow
racing to be first
for no logical reason
watching the clock second hand
tick
wondering what it will be like
when time finally allows
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Single Week
Less than a week, actually. The holiday season is long but the actual day of Christmas is just a single day and it is now six days away. I am also down to a single week left commuting to the day-job. Three days, actually. It feels like a lot is happening that will hopefully lead up to a period when not much needs to happen, for the rest of my life.
For the last six months, I have only been commuting to the far side of the Twin Cities three days a week. I am already aware of the complexity of noticing what day it is when Saturdays and Sundays become blurred with Fridays and Mondays. When seven days a week all require the same attention from me, I will join the throngs of others who are in the phase of life when every day is simply “today” and not so distinguishable from all the others.
Yesterday was Cyndie’s Christmas Cookie baking day. I failed to provide much warning but the post I created in 2017 is still very applicable. Check out: Advance Warning.
Cyndie invited helpers to contribute to the extravaganza. They captured and shared some images of the frivolity…
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Cookies galore are being shared far and wide. For reference, if you ever have a chance to help Cyndie in the kitchen, you will be stocked with plenty of goodies upon your departure.
Despite this being the second Christmas season under the pandemic, glad tidings and good cheer still shine through.
Merry Christmas, everyone! Enjoy this last week.
I know that I will.
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Seem Settled
The most recent batch of wild weather is now history. Yesterday, I cranked up the chainsaw and cut apart sections of the downed trees that obstructed our trails. All of them were already dead and have inspired me to consider being more proactive about tending to the potential hazards to our fences.
Speaking of our fences, I am surprised at the resilience of our high tensile wire fence. Despite the heavy pressure on the top wire of a section where one of the larger trees landed, no damage resulted. After I cut the tree into pieces, the wire returned to its original appearance. At our cold temperatures, I expected the stretch would have remained and required re-tensioning of the top wire.
Our horses seem settled into a winter routine. Their overnight inside the barn stalls protected them from the rain that dripped off fence boards, freezing into little icicles as the warmth transformed into more normal December temperatures.
We had a dusting of snow overnight last night that revealed the horses stayed out in the open while flakes fell. They had little white blankets on their backs when we showed up to serve their morning feed.
There was just enough early sunshine to trigger their habit of standing sideways to soak up the rays. I noticed steam rising off their bodies as the snow blankets began to melt.
In the time since I returned to the house and finished my own breakfast, the sky has become overcast. At this point, the horses are more inclined to lay down and roll around to knock the melting snow blankets off their backs.
They’ve now seen a full gamut of winter conditions interspersed with an uncharacteristic warm spell and spring-like thunderstorm and appear to be handling it with minimal stress. That goes a long way to relieve us from fretting over how to provide them the best care.
It is helping us to feel settled with our late decision to keep the horses here full-time. If they are happy, we are happy.
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Relative Something 