Holiday Outing
Christmas 2023 is now a memory. Let’s get on with celebrating the new year and start preparing for Valentine’s Day. But before we go, how about one more glance at our festive holiday outing at CHS Field in St. Paul?
We went to the GLOW Holiday Festival on Christmas eve eve with Barry and Carlos and our friends, Paul and Beth.
The rain held off long enough for us to walk among the lights, features, and several thousand other people without getting wet.
The event added much-needed holiday spirit in the absence of snow this year. There were so many photo-worthy spectacles and selfie-hungry couples and families, that much of the time was spent dodging becoming an incidental photo bomber or waiting for a turn to get photo-bombed.
We unexpectedly ran into our friends, the Williams family among the throngs of strangers while strolling the concourse. That increased the festive energy of our evening in a most wonderful way.
There was barely a line when we came upon Santa Claus, so posing with him became a must-do.
Confusion broke out when two overly excited youngsters spotted him and moved in as if pulled by an invisible force. Our group quickly encouraged the kids to go ahead of us while the parents, unaware, were trying to remind the kids about the good manners of waiting their turn.
As Cyndie and I stepped up for our chance to tell Santa what we wanted for Christmas, I leaned in and whispered in his ear, “They aren’t paying you enough for this.” It triggered the most wonderful knowing laugh from him that I felt as if my work was done for the night.
24 hours later, Cyndie and I were gathered with our kids, the Friswold family, and their relations at a party room of Friendship Village for the annual Friswold/Brolin Christmas Eve dinner. Christmas morning brought the Friswolds all together in Cyndie’s mom’s suite for breakfast and gift opening. In the evening, we met again, this time at Ben’s house for games and dinner.
I’m looking forward to a day after the holiday that should bring a return to our usual routine and an end to the over-saturation of Christmas music for a while. Maybe things will get so normal that we even receive some snow that covers the ground for more than a few days.
A guy can dream.
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Ancestor Cloud
I made a word cloud that includes 5 generations of surnames of our children’s ancestors. That is 64 names: 2 parents; 4 grandparents; 8 great-grandparents; 16 great-great-grandparents; and 32 great-great-great-grandparents.
The name Hays occurs 5 times but there are only 4 Friswolds because that name changed from Frisvold four generations back. Cyndie’s mother’s and my mother’s maiden names show up 4 times each.
Our kids are all those people. I’m only half of the people named and Cyndie is the other half.
The kids visited yesterday for our immediate family Christmas gathering and I was mentioning how different from each other Cyndie and I are. Julian then pointed out, “And I am both of you.”
We definitely contain multitudes.
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Pitiful Disarray
I was thinking about titling this post, “Hot Mess” but felt it might not be the best use of the phrase. I did a little research and found that ‘Hot Mess’ describes something in pitiful disarray. That fit even better.
I was teasing Cyndie that her Christmas present from me this year is my completing a long overdue house maintenance task. Our usual routine is to buy a joint treat like an expensive, fancy vacuum or other long-married couple versions of a handy appliance.
The light fixture over our dining room table has been limping along with old compact fluorescent bulbs and two randomly intermittent lightbulb bases. I tried a couple of times to analyze what appeared to be a loose connection in one arm of the fixture but I could never figure out how to get access to where the wires connect.
Fixing it always got pushed aside because I didn’t know which circuit breaker needed to be flipped. Also, working on a light fixture without electricity in a dark area of our house would require setting up supplemental lighting. It doesn’t take much to trigger my skills at procrastination.
Well, Ho-Ho-Ho, this Santa’s elf got past all the excuses yesterday and dove into the project with some tricks up his sleeve. I had done some shopping on my recent trek to the Cities.
This brings me to the hot mess… Do you want to know why I didn’t know which circuit breaker controls this particular light fixture? I present to you, exhibit A:
Speaking of pitiful disarray, the original electrician doing the labeling didn’t do himself proud, and every modifier since has only made things miserably worse. Part of me thinks I should have long ago cleaned up the chart with clearly legible and easily interpreted references, but a larger part of me notices we’ve gotten along well enough thus far with things just the way they are.
When do you usually need to flip a circuit breaker? After it has tripped. Those are pretty easy to find. The hard part is when you want to cut power to something via a circuit breaker. That’s more of a challenge, but the need to do that is so rare, it hasn’t significantly forced the issue. That complication actually serves as a feature for a procrastinator.
For the record, the dining room chandelier circuit breaker is position 9. I flipped most of the single pole breakers, one at a time, and hollered up to Cyndie to find out if the light was still on.
With the power cut, I was able to reverse-engineer the assembly features of the fixture and tighten everything up snugly. While I was at it, I threw in a bonus of a new switch on the wall which included a slider for dimming the new LED bulbs I bought to replace the old CFL bulbs.
Next time Cyndie works on an art project on that table she will finally be able to clearly see what she is doing.
If I knew what the rest of the circuit breakers controlled, I would make a new chart for the panel, but figuring that out can wait a little bit longer…
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Silk Scarves
During December, I’ve been enjoying the privilege of a front-row seat for an art project by one of Santa’s loveliest elves. I didn’t even know that painting silk scarves was a thing. Cyndie manufactured a rig to suspend the scarves so she could draw on designs before filling them with wonderful brushed colors.
Each one is unique and custom-designed for the person she was thinking about. I wish I had taken more pictures when she was doing the painting but I was hesitant due to the hush-hush nature of the project.
Wednesday night she and her friends celebrated with a holiday dinner and an exchange of gifts so I have now been granted permission to share some clips of the finished scarves.
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It brings me so much joy to see how Cyndie has been experimenting with different techniques to bring about beautiful artistic images with a variety of media. These silk scarves look really great. I love how she managed to mix a whimsical energy with an almost business-like calmness worthy of silk.
I’m very familiar with Cyndie’s artistry in the kitchen but her increasing proficiency in producing creative art from many different methods is showing me a whole new side of her. It thrills me to no end.
It shouldn’t surprise me that Cyndie continues to master new accomplishments, but her artistic creativity of late has. Her art projects since retiring stand out in contrast with her previous lifetime of more academic pursuits. Instead of cramming a world of ideas into reports and professional articles, she is now letting them flow freely into shapes and colors.
I am truly honored to have the pleasure of watching her work and then being able to gaze upon the finished pieces. I’m so happy when she allows me to share samples with the rest of you here.
I wonder what she will find to tackle next. You can bet I will strive to take more pictures during the messy phases.
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Old Schoolmates
Last night, I traveled back in time with a small gathering of guys I went to high school with. It’s an annual holiday event of simply showing up at a designated establishment at a given hour for beverages and a few hours of catching up and recalling escapades from our youth.
Sort of a tiny fraction of a high school reunion. Certainly much easier to plan and pull off. We met at Fat Pants Brewery in Eden Prairie.
It is a little crazy-making for me because it is usually the only time I see most of them in a year. My connection with them is from when we were teenagers, so that remains my mental reference, while I am looking at us all in our mid-60s. I can’t deny having several conversations about our age, health, ailments, and end-of-life contemplations.
When reaching the point in life where it becomes obvious that one is closer to death than to one’s birth, health conversations flow rather naturally.
These are people who I ran with across old people’s lawns and got yelled at (metaphorically), and now we are the ones telling kids to get off our lawn, so to speak. While hanging out with this bunch, I felt a certain appreciation for our shared experience of growing up without cell phones. These are my people, regardless all our variety of differences.
One thing that I’m struggling to comprehend after our visit is what the heck happened to us all between the 1970s and 2023. I’m afraid it’s mostly all a blur. Somewhere in there we raised kids and worked careers but it almost seems like just incidental anecdotes at this point.
After several hours passed in a blink, holiday greetings were exchanged, and one by one we headed back into our real worlds for another year. Something about that feeds my yearning to be able to participate in this ritual each December.
It’s a little adventure of stepping out of our present lives and spending a few fleeting moments with older versions of our younger selves one night of the year.
It feels very much like what Christmas is all about.
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Idle Pursuits
Yesterday was a rather quiet week on the Ranch. It probably felt like a week-long day because I chose to accomplish almost nothing industrious or ambitious. I ended the day in the time warp of nighttime broadcast television where there were endless commercials for shows scheduled to happen well in the future between occasional action of the NFL’s Monday Night Football game.
In the afternoon, I accomplished an incredibly luscious nap that included some fascinating dream sequences. Can’t buy that, even during Christmas sales.
I may have accidentally noticed some crazy news headlines that hint at more similarities today to situations occurring in the time before and during WWII than any human should be comfortable tolerating.
From what I keep seeing, plenty of town criers are hollering warnings but nowhere do I find definitive action being taken. Talk is cheap, another world war will be more expensive than any of us want to imagine.
Regarding my brilliant idea to have people smarter than me come to mark the power wires leading to the barn, I learned they don’t do “private” lines, only public utilities.
I’m back to my own ingenuity but it won’t happen until the ground re-thaws again in the next few days. The last two nights brought us hard freezes and yesterday the temps didn’t climb anywhere near thawing.
I’ve put away my jigsaw puzzles to make room on the big table for craft projects. One of Santa’s elves is knocking herself out with above and beyond effort making beautiful toys for girls and boys.
It’s the holiday season 🎶
And Santa Claus is coming ‘round
I won’t continue with those lyrics because the next line has something to do with Christmas snow and I don’t want to lie.
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Still Cooking
Since the little green caterpillar is still crawling around, I shouldn’t be surprised that the organisms that breakdown manure into dirt continue to do their thing. This time of year my compost piles are usually dormant but I’ve currently got one that is steaming away, active as ever.
We received a little bit of rain overnight Friday into Saturday and that, combined with the above-freezing temperatures, has created sloppy footing in the paddocks. The significant weight of horses provides a pretty good indicator of how thawed the ground gets. Instead of the ground being packed down by their hooves, it becomes dotted with hoof-sized potholes.
Just for the record, when the weather turns back to freezing, the pockmarked surface becomes rock-hard and that wreaks havoc on my attempts to scoop manure. At that point, I just hope for snow to cover the ground for the season so I can just let it all lay until spring.
It’s weird how easy it is to get used to not having snow on the ground. It will require a mental adjustment when winter weather finally arrives and I have to shift into shoveling and plowing mode. I fear I’m being lulled into a nonchalance that will demand more than a little effort to overcome.
Alas, that is a bridge to be crossed at another time. This is the moment I should be focused on.
Yesterday I puttered around with a curiosity about locating the spot where digging for the power cable to the barn needs to happen. The warm weather has me wanting to deal with it sooner than next spring. I tried poking a wire for a while and then got the bright idea I should just call the “Call Before You Dig!” number and have a skilled professional mark the entire route between the shop and the barn.
Of course, you know what will happen as soon as it gets marked. Yes, we’ll finally get that snow cover I’ve been waiting for.
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Just Before
The proverbial expression “it’s always darkest before the dawn” is commonly heard in reference to tough times but what about when you are standing out in the woods all night long? Well, since dawn is the first appearance of light before sunrise then it makes sense that it would be darkest at that point.
Maybe there deserves to be a phrase for the moment just before the sun becomes visible on the horizon. It’s well after dawn but not yet sunrise. That is when we get some truly spectacular sky views around here.
From one color extreme to the next, these two images were captured just days apart.
It’s always frequently occasionally the most interesting or colorful just before the sun rises above the horizon.
Thank goodness for a wide-open view to the east every morning.
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Relative Something 