Big Sigh
It’s all over for another year. The grand Christmas-palooza that Cyndie’s family puts on starts with a dinner on the eve and then breakfast and presents on the day, followed by time for a nap before an evening meal and games. Dinner on the 24th occurred in an event room at the senior living complex where Cyndie’s mom lives.
The younger volunteers were racing to roll doubles to steal the present before the person ahead of them was able to unwrap it while wearing oven mitts. The presents were wrapped with multiple layers. Cruel.
Cyndie and I made the drive to the cities and back three times in the two days. We took advantage of the car time to hear more mind-blowing episodes from The Telepathy Tapes. So fascinating.
When we got home after the Christmas Eve dinner, already after our normal bedtime, Cyndie assembled the caramel rolls she would bring to breakfast the following morning.
After leaving them to raise over night, she put the pans in the oven in the morning while I took care of horse chores.
We drove some extra miles to get to the house that her brother, Steve, is renting on Lake Minnetonka while his house is being rebuilt after the fire.
Between the exquisite food served at each of the three meals and the irresistible sweets offered for dessert, I violated any measure of appropriate caloric intake and blissfully consumed more yummy goodness than I should have.
Santa (Marie) brought me a new pair of chopper mittens! Wasn’t I just raving about those…?
It was a holiday of pure love among loud family conversations, gift exchanging, some singing, and fancy feasting.
Today feels like a big sigh of relief, now that the events and repeated commuting of the last 36 hours are behind us. It’s always a lot of fun, but part of me feels a little extra appreciation to be home again and returning to our normal routines.
The hard part will be convincing my body that it needs to return to normal calories now.
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Wilting Winter
It doesn’t do any good to complain. I know that. That doesn’t seem to sway me from moping about the recent destruction of what started out to be a fabulous snow season this year. It melted big time, then refroze. Next, it warmed up again and rained, turning the snow on the ground into snowcone slush. Since that time, we’ve had some sleet mix and a dusting of flakes that covered the crusty frozen surface.
The snow cover is now a crunchy mess of greatly reduced value for most forms of recreation.
We received about a half-hour notice last night that somebody was coming to pick up the 85 bales of hay that the nutritionist frowned on feeding our rescued Thoroughbreds. Bad timing for me, since my back was teetering on the verge of a painful disc problem all day.
Somehow, both my degenerating spine and my bum shoulder survived tossing bales, and the shed is clear to receive a fresh batch from a different supplier next week. That put a crimp in our plan to sneak away to the lake place in Hayward for a few days after Christmas. We were given a date and a time when the hay would arrive, and that was that. We weren’t about to argue. Our response was, “Thank you very much.”
When someone tells you they can deliver hay, you do whatever it takes to make it convenient for them.
Well, while everyone was distracted by this and that in their lives, we have somehow arrived at the day before Christmas. Oh, you saw this coming? I should have been more aware. My online community was having an exchange of memories about the times the Santa myth unraveled for people.
I still remember the awe I felt when my dad told me, as I first appeared bleary-eyed one Christmas morning, that I just missed it. He said he had just heard the sound of reindeer hooves on our roof moments earlier. As time passed, I struggled to reconcile that powerful emotional “truth” I experienced with the logic that was debunking everything else about the Santa Claus ruse we were being sold.
My online friend shared the best description of the miracle of Santa. Sure, some of it is made up, but it’s based on this: it inspires people to experience the joys of giving gifts to others and making them happy, and it happens all over the world on the very same day.
That is something worth believing in for a lifetime.
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
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Transcendent Ambience
With our weather taking a mild turn, I took the blankets off three of the horses yesterday, leaving Mia covered because she doesn’t grow as thick a winter coat as the others. Blanketing horses is interesting in that it seems like they’d just as soon not have them on, but they appreciate the added protection against the elements when the weather gets crazy.
As such, they will cooperate by standing still while we put them on. It is a treat to be able to reward them by taking the blankets off again as soon as the conditions allow. Happily, Mia doesn’t fuss over keeping hers on.
She finished her feed and came down to where I was tying a freshly-filled hay net on a fence post. I did my best to read her intentions in case she preferred to get rid of the blanket, but she gave me no indication that was the case. She seemed more interested in gobbling bites of hay.
With the warm temperature, I was working without a hat and wearing uninsulated gloves. After finishing all the chores and collecting empty feed buckets, I paused to lean on the gate and enjoy the moment. It was a wonderfully quiet night. As darkness approached, Mia was wandering from one placemat after another to scrounge any remaining spilled feed pellets. The other three horses were each at a different hay net, munching away.
In the distance, across the road in a grove of pine trees, an owl started hooting, adding to the transcendent ambience.
It was the kind of solitary experience that wouldn’t have been as special if someone else were there, but as I was enjoying it, I found myself wishing everyone could have the same opportunity.
I don’t know how I ever got so lucky to live in this remarkable place and have a relationship with these precious horses.
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Projects Delivered
There is a special satisfaction that comes with seeing our handiwork reach its intended destination. Yesterday, we held our traditional early gift exchange and feast with just our kids and their loves before the Christmas gatherings of extended family planned for later this week.
I have already featured a project I had been working on, sharing photos of the progress on two mirrored hearts I made from one Y section of the oak tree that fell last summer. I gave them to Elysa and Julian to have and hold.
It’s a little redundant to give someone your heart when they already have it, but these offer a more tangible reminder, no?
There was one other project underway in our house that I have not shared photos of in order to preserve the surprise.
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Cyndie took on the task of sewing two quilts simultaneously for the kids. Seems to me that one quilt with a hard deadline would be enough of a challenge, but that just shows another example of how different Cyndie and I are.
Crafts such as this are one of several ways Cyndie shows no fear. It is a way that her sometimes unique version of logic is revealed to be a superpower, because it was not logical that anyone would be able to pull this off in the short amount of time that she did. Now two kitty-loving families have similar (you could almost say mirrored) handmade blankets of whimsical cat silhouettes to stay warm under.
Projects delivered. It’s definitely a massive joy to gift others with items crafted by our own hands.
Of course, Cyndie had so much more to give. After presents were exchanged, we feasted on Italian beef or seasoned jackfruit sandwiches she whipped up, after we had already test-tasted her first-ever homemade almond kringle. Sides included a fancy lettuce salad with homemade candied nuts, fancy roasted new potatoes, and cut fresh fruits, finished with a unique pile of marshmallow-corn flake wreaths that were supposed to be a tree.
Turned out to be more of a Christmas bush than a tree.
Here’s looking forward to whatever the next project is that she comes up with to deliver, despite there being only 24 hours in a day.
Happy winter solstice! Ho ho ho!
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Chopper Mittens
This morning, I tried describing a dream I just had so that Cyndie could share in the experience. Of course, the deep drama I had witnessed and felt as if it was actually happening was not adequately conveyed by my words. My struggle to express the dream’s intricacies revealed a glimpse of the monumental difference of what telepathic communication must be like. I quickly realized that each moment in the dream encompassed more impressions and thoughts than my words were able to recreate.
We think and feel a lot faster than words can express. It’s why a picture is worth a thousand words. Visualization is better than verbalization.
Have I described how phenomenally great chopper mittens are for the outdoor winter activities I undertake? If you are unfamiliar with chopper mittens, I could describe them to you, but let me offer this so you can visualize them:
I have tried a variety of other versions, but none compare to the perfection of the original, right down to the knitted inner mitten. I don’t know what makes that liner different (better) than any other new fandangled water-wicking Thinsulate® version I’ve experimented with, but, for me, it falls under the idiom, ‘some things can’t be improved.’
Somewhat counterintuitively, the floppy looseness of the mitten fit is a feature, not a flaw. Being able to pull my bare hand out quickly and easily to accomplish a task that requires ultimate dexterity, and then slip it back in with equal ease, is like having a superpower.
If the mittens get wet from heavy use in the snow, pulling the inner mitten out when I get back indoors allows them to dry quickly and be ready to go, as good as new in no time. If they get too wet, or I need to go back outside before they are dry enough, a second pair is more than worth the money spent.
If you aren’t able to telepathically perceive the unmitigated amount of satisfaction I get from the original chopper mittens, you are only getting a fraction of the perception of how great they are through my written words. Trust me.
Thinking about communicating in words, it occurs to me that, even though using words to describe something falls short of what our minds can do in an instant, I am fond of written communication because it gives me time to construct my thoughts more adeptly than I can do on the fly if I were speaking to you directly.
I suppose that is why, after some 16+ years, I have never felt an urge to transition from blogging to vlogging or podcasting.
Will we someday come up with a word for telepathically sharing our take on things and experiences? Telelogging? Telecasting is too conventional and already in use. It’s not wrong, though.
Since I’m already beaming love to you all telepathically, maybe you can tune in other intricacies my words are incapable of including. You won’t believe this dream I experienced early this morning…
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Nasty Conditions
Today’s quiz question is: What is John’s least favorite weather condition in the winter?
If you guessed rain in the great snowy north, you are oh-so-correct.
What a way to wreck perfectly good snow for outdoor recreation. Yuck. It stayed warm throughout the rain, so we dodged the dreaded icing that usually happens when the precipitation changes over to snow. There was a pause during which the temperature began its return to real cold again before the arrival of high wind and flying flakes.
I found the horses’ Jolly Ball had been carried or kicked out into the hay field. I regularly pick it up from wherever it rolls in the paddock and set it up where I hope it will entice them to play with it. It’s rarely obvious whether it gets kicked or the wind pushes it downslope a ways, but I keep resetting it for their benefit.
I’m pleased to see it occupied one or more of them long enough to end up so far from where I had left it most recently.
As we headed out into the nasty conditions to feed the horses yesterday late afternoon, I became aware of the difference between the ways Cyndie and I face the challenging weather. Largely due to the suffering she endures from the cold, Cyndie is more on the defensive against it. I hear it in the sounds she makes and the comments she utters. It leads her to be concerned that the horses might be feeling as bad about the Arctic gales as she does.
I try to play more offense, using comments that diminish the harshness and telling the horses how well they are doing as we all brave the cold and windblown snow. I talk my way into winning the battle of man against the elements.
If the weather wants to go nasty, I’ll dish out my own dose of nasty-level positivity in the finest of contrarian ways.
Take that, old Man Winter.
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A Thursday
There was an unexpected Asher adventure as we were about to feed the horses yesterday morning, involving a raccoon. While Cyndie and I were focused on the usual chores, Asher vanished without our noticing. His telltale, excited barking in the distance instantly grabbed our attention.
Cyndie stopped what she was doing and hustled in the direction of the hay shed. In the perennial garden just beyond the shed, she found Asher and the raccoon in conflict with each other. I stayed with the horses, trying to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary was going on, despite the angry noises coming from the raccoon.
She reported that Asher had the butt end of the still-complaining raccoon in his mouth and took off running when she showed up. When she caught up to him again, across the road at the end of our driveway, she said he was in the process of burying the no longer living critter.
I don’t remember seeing coon hound in the 18 breeds identified in his DNA.
Our neighbor just south of us was pleased to hear he has some help in controlling the population of nuisance wildlife. When Cyndie stopped by to deliver some Christmas cookies, he told her he had dispatched 19 possums and 25 raccoons this year.
It’s comforting to know that we may have gained some tolerance for occasions when Asher might wander onto their property, now that he’s seen as contributing to pest control in the area.
After a couple of days above freezing, we are facing another Winter Weather Advisory from the National Weather Service, which predicts light snow, wind as high as 40-50 mph, and icy flash freezing conditions. Needless to say, the horse blankets are back on.
Mia needs the added protection more than the others, but she was the most uncooperative about letting us cover her up. She doesn’t grow as thick a winter coat and ends up shivering more quickly than the others, so one would think she’d welcome the blanket.
Instead of chasing her around in an attempt to force compliance, we are inclined to patiently invite her to come to us as we stand holding the blanket. Since they were all eating from their feed buckets while we were putting the blankets on, that just meant standing close to her bucket, and eventually she stayed put while we covered her up and hooked up all the clasps.
I have every confidence that they understand why we are covering them up again. We also move hay nets from out on fence posts to up underneath the overhang. Since we only do these things during periods of stormy weather and always return things to normal afterwards, I believe they read the signals and accept the changes without unwarranted stress.
Lousy weather is stressful enough on its own, especially when high winds are involved. The Weather Service is tossing out phrases like “a conveyor belt of Aleutian low-pressure systems” and “atmospheric rivers.”
To us, it just seems like a Thursday.
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Welcome Distractions
Yesterday was a day when I wouldn’t have had a clue our government was churning towards a fascist dictatorship if I hadn’t read an accounting of the pertinent details. Laid out the way they were, it seemed pretty obvious.
But my day started with a visit from the farrier before I had even completed the morning chores. It took a lot of energy to coax Asher away from all the scents on the farrier’s tools to get the dog up to the house for his feeding.
Just as had happened the day before, with the Nutritionist reporting that the horses were in excellent condition, the farrier said their hooves were looking really good. The winter growth has slowed enough that the next trimming appointment wasn’t even scheduled. In the summer, we might see him every 6 weeks. It may be more than 10 weeks during the winter.
Maddy gave the horses their dewormer dosage, and so they are now up to date on all their health issues. I think we are more thrilled over the milestone than the horses. They stood really well for the farrier, making the process a relative breeze.
It didn’t hurt that the weather was headed toward a big thaw. It was the first time the temperature rose above the 32°F freezing point since the winter-like cold arrived, and it shot well past that into the mid-40s.
My day ended with an evening of catching up with guys I went to high school with at a brewery in our old hometown.
It’s an annual December ritual that relies on a core of a handful of regulars, plus each year a bonus of a few rare sightings that surprise us by showing up. I think it’s a good exercise, though I am aware it’s not for everyone. Some folks have no interest in revisiting their past. I enjoy it greatly.
Thinking about the days of my youth is more pleasant than examining the sad state of our crumbling democracy. Hanging out with the horses and hanging with the guys yesterday distracted me from how bad things continue to get in this once-great country of ours.
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Relative Something 