Unexpected Fun
Forgetting for a moment that citizens of our country are under attack from our own government was more fun than we expected yesterday. While the bowling by the unpracticed novices of our family qualified as comical, it takes a measurable level of personal strength to laugh at one’s own foibles displayed so openly among strangers. I’m pretty sure I accomplished rolling a gutter ball following a previous frame strike. D’oh!
After surviving the sensory overload of overly rambunctious youngsters, a pop music soundtrack, clanging and banging arcade machines, and plenty of crazy lighting effects, we made our way to the Namaste India Grill & Brewhouse for laughter around the table. With a menu of enough delectable choices to make my head spin, I don’t think there was a duplicate order among any of the six of us.
I treasured hearing an impassioned conversation from a booth nearby in a language I didn’t recognize. We arrived before the dinner rush and were able to witness the gradual increase of customers from a variety of nationalities filling the tables, which bolstered the atmosphere of fun.
Alone with Cyndie on the drive home after precious time with our kids, we discovered the best surprise of the day. Turning her attention to her phone for messages, Cyndie discovered calls from a friend from graduate school in San Diego, some 46 years ago.
Cyndie and her two best friends from that time in graduate school had lost touch over the years and miles, but Susan and Lupe were moved to search for Cyndie’s information to offer their support for the ongoing conflict in Minneapolis.
Apparently, I have written enough times about our life adventures that this blog, along with the details of our labyrinth location that we have submitted to the Labyrinth Society, provides enough clues to reach us. For the record, that is by design.
Cyndie was moved to tears to hear Susan’s voice on the message in the car and could hardly wait to call her back when we got home. I could see years melting away from Cyndie’s aura as she flipped through old photographs from such a long time ago.
I recognize that feeling of a bond with friends who shared such a significant time of life, the challenges of higher education, and the unknown places it might lead to for all of them.
The reconnection was an unexpected bonus of fun on our day. I picked up the excitement vicariously through how vividly it reinvigorated Cyndie. Finding out that this blog helped the three of them rediscover their friendship connection again warms my heart.
Thanks for your keen sleuthing efforts to find us, Susan and Lupe! LOVE!
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Feels Wrong
Amidst all the blatant misuse of power, the lies, and the unending obfuscation of the current U.S. administration, there seems to be little cause for hope among the average citizens. Unfortunately, this latest version of oppression that is being dished out for the greatest effect is not new to a large portion of the population that has been discriminated against for generations.
Those of us who never suffered the constant disdain from proper society folk aren’t used to dealing with this developing vilification and the increasingly violent actions against our constitutional rights. A good number of the recently offended are standing up in protest, making our voices heard. That’s a struggle to do day after day, especially when the Federal offenses continue to intensify.
My inclination this morning was to curl up with my head beneath my pillow, where I could pretend I am not living in the middle of the decline of our democracy, even though I know it would only help the oppressors to achieve their desired outcome.
Luckily, I have Cyndie in my life to help me carry on against the ugliness. She is not taking me by the arm to march in the streets today. No, she is applying a lesson she learned long ago from someone with first-hand life experience in being discriminated against.
Sometimes, even when you don’t feel like it, it’s important to get out and dance.
I guess I can see the logic, but it just feels so wrong to seek out joy when so many are being mistreated. Then it occurs to me that people have been suffering all the other times in my life when I was out on some grand adventure. How would this be different?
At least we are combining our plans to have some silly fun with our kids and their life partners today, with a goal of supporting small businesses that are experiencing focused abuse from the authoritarian crackdown.
We are thumbing our noses at those who want us to suffer. Our form of protest today will be achieved by not wallowing in our sorrows over the abuse from the tactical military outfitted thugs stomping on citizens’ rights. We will be laughing, loving, and feeding each other’s souls with happy energy at a time when all of our resources of these gifts feel low.
If it starts to feel wrong to be happy, maybe we will chant “ICE OUT!” a few times before sharing our smiles with an immigrant server or their neighbors in a suburb of St. Paul, Minnesota. We aren’t actually attending a dance. I’m afraid I will need to pretend I remember how to throw a bowling ball down a lane toward ten pins.
I’m guessing it may feel cathartic to knock things down in a harmless way.
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Feed Delivered
On the days we expect delivery of feed for the horses, there is usually a text alert providing an ETA for the truck. Yesterday, I kept one eye out the window and one eye on the phone messages. I even got up to check if Asher was barking because the delivery had arrived, but it was just another of his regular outbursts over some invisible trigger that we fail to see or hear.
I did get distracted for a short while by a movie on my laptop that caught my attention while I was having lunch. When Asher showed up on my hip with insistent signaling that he needed to go out, I prepared to be outside with him until the truck showed up or we needed to feed horses, maybe both at the same time.
In the woods, he decided to take on a snag that was four times his height because his senses told him there were critter snacks inside. He worked tenaciously for the longest time, despite it looking like a useless effort to me.
It doesn’t really bother me that he tries, because it entertains him with one of his great passions: destroying toys (or trees) to bits. It’s always a bonus to occupy his mind and burn some of his energy while he is out in the great outdoors.
To my surprise, after about twenty minutes of his manic pawing and gnawing, what I suspect were small flying squirrels began popping out of holes and racing to the highest point before making a flying leap for the next large trunk.
Asher would catch a glimpse and race to the other tree, but he almost always missed when they would scamper up that one to a dizzying height from which they made amazing leaps, floating down toward the next big tree a safe distance away.
When my feet started to get cold, and it was close enough to time to feed the horses, it took a concerted effort to convince Asher to give up and move on. Eventually, he got the message and joined me down the trail toward the barn.
As we rounded the corner to the front door, we found the delivery had happened without my noticing, having not received any messages in advance. I don’t know if it was while we were in the woods or still in the house. I fully expected to hear the truck if it happened while we were outside, so I’m guessing it was during my lunch break.
At least I didn’t need to make a decision about where to have them leave the pallet. He set it right in front of the doors that are frozen shut. That meant I ended up moving 2000 lbs of feed, one 50 lb bag at a time, through the small door and restacked them on two pallets inside.
Just another day of fun at Wintervale that negates the need for a gym membership!
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Optical Illusion
Objects out the window may be further away than they appear. Is that a thing with optical illusions? What makes something look closer than it really is?
At two different times this winter, I have been fooled by what my eyes saw and what my brain concluded. From the farthest window in the back of our house, with a view to the north, it is possible to see a building that appears to be on the edge of the plowed field adjacent to our property.
The first time, I was flabbergasted. How did someone put a building there without us noticing? It couldn’t have been constructed there, so I made the assumption it must have been moved into position intact. I tried to get a better view with binoculars and checked the view from all the other windows on the north side of our house. Through the bare tree branches, I couldn’t discern much more than what I saw with just my eyes. I also couldn’t find it from any other window.
That should have been my first clue.
I asked Cyndie to look at it when she walked Asher on the driveway after feeding the horses. She told me she couldn’t see it. That didn’t make any sense, so I checked for myself. It wasn’t there, so my imagination solved the mystery by deciding they must have been in the process of moving it and had continued to some other location.
Another week or two passed, and I found myself reading in that back room while Cyndie was working on an art project. That building was back again! Looking out the window, I could clearly see it, just like the time before. I did get up and search from all the other windows, just like before, and it was still only visible from that one back window.
I wasn’t going to be (completely) fooled twice. Applying a little logic and overruling the confusing visual and my brain’s perception of what I was seeing, I realized we were seeing the barn across the road on our neighbor’s property to our northeast.
Up close, it looks like this:
That front face with the red siding and the door and the arc of a roofline had me thinking maybe a Quonset hut. Now, if you asked me if there was a red barn on the neighbor’s farm across the road, I wouldn’t be positive. In fact, Cyndie was certain there is no red barn there when I explained what we were seeing.
So, when we saw it suddenly appearing in the trees, looking unbelievably close, we didn’t recognize it for what it truly was.
I’ve added a line depicting the direction between the two points and placed a clone of the barn in the red circle to show the location it appears to be when viewed from our back room.
When there are leaves on the trees, we can never see our neighbor’s property. I’ve never sat where I could see that view until Cyndie started using that room for artwork. The front face of that barn, suddenly being visible from our house, threw me for a loop.
If anyone can explain why it would appear to be closer than it really is, I’d be happy to learn.
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Vivid Difference
To clean or not to clean the driveway, shouldn’t even be a question. If I don’t have to go through the gas-burning effort of using the Yamaha Grizzly ATV to plow the driveway, I prefer not using it. The paltry amount of snow that remains on the surface where I haven’t swept it off does get kind of messy and gives off the appearance of neglect on the part of those responsible for managing the grounds.
I should probably talk to that guy.
It’s almost spotless where I pushed off the snow a day earlier. A pretty dramatic difference.
We are anticipating a delivery of feed for the horses tomorrow, so I’m thinking I should clean off the short distance remaining beyond the shadow of the hay shed before the forklift’s arrival. Just beyond the hay shed, the driveway asphalt is already clear due to its exposure to the wind along the hay field.
Unfortunately, frost heave and snowmelt around the big barn doors have locked them shut. I haven’t decided whether I will have the pallet dropped in front of the stacked bales inside the hay shed or just parked in front of the barn to be carried inside one 50lb bag at a time and restacked on another pallet.
It’s wild seeing pictures of the impressive amount of snow that has fallen over many large population centers to the south and east of us over the weekend. Not our issue to be dealt with this time. I sympathize with their plight, though.
I guess it’s like the vivid difference on our driveway right now. Others are inundated, while we didn’t get any new precipitation out of the big storm, Fern.
At least we’re no longer the only region in the country dealing with crazy cold temperatures. Remember, this is why some weather science folks suggested we change the phrase “global warming” to global weirding. Sorry for the deep freeze, Gulf Coast states!
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So Tired
Mentally weary and physically tired from the persistent pressure of daily rallying to convey our objections to ICE operations in Minnesota and to support friends and family in the vicinity of the attacks. This has been happening while we are simultaneously coping with the added stress of caring for our animals during the last few days of frigid temperatures.
A full night’s sleep is hampered by the lingering grief of citizens being murdered by our own government agents. We sleep because we are exhausted, but it is fitful sleep because we are in a battle for our constitutional rights.
We kept a fire burning in the fireplace yesterday, more for the mental and visual comfort it offered than for the added warmth it gave off.
During the afternoon, I cleaned snow remnants off the driveway that I’ve been ignoring since the last two dustings days ago. I barely had the energy reserves to finish what I started.
The horses seemed very distracted during the morning feeding, staring at length to the south. Eventually, I saw an electric power company utility truck pull into the neighbor’s complex of two houses and multiple outbuildings. Were the horses privy to an issue over there before the line workers even showed up? I was oblivious to whatever they were so curious about.
We haven’t suffered any power interruptions as a result of the Arctic cold. Well, not electric power, anyway.
I’m operating on my reserve tank, hoping for some morsel of good news to counter the endless doom and gloom being orchestrated out of the White House. It can be a battle for those of us who work every day to conquer depression when depressing reports of depressing actions become the order of the day.
Thank goodness for my music library and the ‘random play’ feature that offers a healthy distraction and moments of respite from harsh reality. My digitized record collection sends me love that feeds my soul. I don’t even care if it’s some form of AI algorithm behind the magic.
I know I’m too tired when I can’t be bothered to skip selections it picks that miss the mark.
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Fatal Cosplay
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Military madness
was killing my country
solitary sadness
comes over me
“Military Madness” by Graham Nash, from the album “Songs for Beginners” 1971
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pretend soldiers
besmirching the reputation
of actual trained personnel
killing for sport
clueless about virtue
pawns of billionaires
warping reality
destroying law and order
ripping the life from people who care
cosplay wannabees
sick with infantile understanding
devoid of what matters most
puppets on despicable strings
flailing their emasculated control
at those who know better
who gives their order?
makes them throw smoke?
pull out their weapons
with hapless impunity
rendering despair
at their vile commander’s charge
heaping hypocrisy
on a pro-life mountain
mutilated morals
of indefensible times
what matters most
both a statement and question
oh where are the ghosts
of past, present, future
to rattle their chains
unwind the destruction
rewire the circuits
of basic humanity
reclaim some dignity
restore world order
life and liberty
freedom to be
noble communities
in love with real peace
highest ideals
protecting the weak
shoulders to the wheel
of learning how to feel
healing
not hurting
not playing along
to hide rich men’s crimes
cutting the strings
of evil task masters
make them pay
for their actions
put them on the front lines
stand up for real people
take off those damn masks
go home
sit down in the corner
now look what you’ve done
Chilly Bones
We have survived our second night in a row with temperatures reaching – 20°(F) outside, where wildlife and domestic livestock live and cope with whatever Mother Nature dishes out.
Despite how extremely frosty-looking Swings was this morning, the horses are faring impressively well against the elements. None of the other three was covered with as much frost as Swings, but they all had frozen eyelashes and ice in their noses.
It is damn cold. This far below zero is where tree trunks start splitting open. It sounds like a rifle shot when they do. We have been hearing it happen, but have yet to spot clear evidence of which trees have ruptured. Air this cold is also dry and thin. Sound waves travel to the degree that vehicle tires on the pavement a mile away sound like they are right next door, similar to the way voices carry across the surface of a lake.
Boots on snow squeak like a bearing needing lubricant.
It is startling to imagine that such brutal weather as this didn’t sway a sea of tens of thousands of concerned citizens from amassing on the streets of Minneapolis yesterday to voice their objections to the abuses being dished out by the fascist regime currently sh**ting all over our democracy.
Is there any possibility that the level of dissatisfaction it takes to drive this behavior will sink in with the powers that be? If not, I shudder to think what it will take.
We decided to try giving Mia the added protection of a neck covering, but the attachment that Cyndie found in the barn wasn’t a match for the blankets we have. Maddy, from This Old Horse, stopped by with another blanket for Mia that worked a little better.
It’s funny to think that it will be twenty degrees warmer in a day or two, and even though it will still be near zero, it will feel so much less stressful for the animals. It’s all relative!
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Dear America
Past performance is not a guarantee of future results. Our country looks about as smart as a box of rocks right now. Has for the last umpteen years, really. Violations happen. Feathers get ruffled. Pearls clutched. Consequences unrealized. Guidelines get crossed. Rule of law, ignored. People march. Protestors and Federal Agents clash. Media flounders. President posts outrageous lies and intimidating threats. Ethics rules become a joke. Cash grabs abound. Allied countries dissed.
Oh, look! Something shiny over there. Ignore what the other hand is doing.
Just wait until the next election. That’ll show ‘em. Yeah, right.
People used to rage at the thought of pedophilia. Human trafficking was a most despicable act. Now, the most exposed ring of human trafficking pedophiles ever has been uncovered, and one of the key perpetrators gets off scot-free and is allowed to hold the highest office in the nation. Ignore the survivors.
Here’s an idea. When there is a civil war to end slavery, don’t let all the defenders of slavery go free to continue their inhumane treatment of others. And when a sitting President orchestrates an insurrection in an attempt to stop the counting of electoral college votes, formalizing the victory of his opponent, HOLD HIM ACCOUNTABLE.
Or, I suppose we could go through a laborious histrionics of official hearings and feigned media concern, wave our arms, and pull a giant dose of nothing out of a hat, subsequently letting the malfeasance continue at an ever-increasing rate.
How ridiculous do we appear to the rest of the world? At least the massive number of American citizens are armed with lethal weapons to defend themselves from the threat of the type of tyranny that is playing out right before the world’s eyes.
What’ll it be? An election or an armed resistance?
You know, I think there is a new movie out on Netflix, and if we place our sports bets correctly on one of the multitude of online betting sites that have achieved mainstream acceptance, we could come up with enough money to DoorDash some crappy fast food.
America, we’ll be just fine. Look how many Olympic medals the USSR was able to win under its oppressive All-Union Supreme Soviet state authority. Our new idiot leader will surely allow our professional (men’s) sports leagues to endure, especially since getting people to bet is easier than convincing them to pay a tax.
Dear America, we’ve made this bed, either by directly acting to make it happen or failing to uphold the ideals put in place to prevent it. Do not be surprised when (even more) bullets finally start to fly, or the next fair election never quite materializes. It’s all part of a long game plan that we’ve discounted at our own peril.
If you have the strength to love the inner souls of those who seek to terrorize and oppress, there is no better time to set your beams on high.
[big sigh]
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Relative Something 