Posts Tagged ‘March Madness’
Duty Done
Today is the conclusion of my solo duty on the ranch, as Cyndie is due to return from Florida this afternoon. That means I’ll be vacuuming, doing the dishes, changing the sheets, running a load of laundry, and hiding all evidence of the ridiculous parties I’ve been hosting while she was away. Asher has been sworn to silence, and the horses have promised to keep my secrets.
What happens in the paddocks stays in the paddocks.
What happens in the sky ends up becoming photos John captures when the clouds form interesting shapes.
If you are reading this in the northern hemisphere, spring has sprung. Yesterday was the vernal equinox. The long, dark nights of winter are becoming a distant memory.
I’m looking forward to a break from being the only person available to entertain Asher. There are too many times in a day when he seeks attention, and my dwindling reserves of energy would prefer I take a nap in the recliner. Plus, this weekend is non-stop March Madness games to be followed. Asher always seems to need to go outside when the exciting final minutes of a close game are playing out.
I take the duty of watching college basketball tournaments seriously. Having Cyndie home will take some of the pressure off of me trying to do two things at the same time. I just have to remember I’m sharing living space again and stop living like a slob around here.
I must admit, though, it can be fun to live like that for short stints every once in a while.
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Nervous Wreck
Last night I watched the last two “elite eight” games of the women’s NCAA tournament and found myself feeling more nervous about the situations of the games than the athletes who were involved.
When it comes to critical game situations, I am a wreck. Continuing to play effectively when you have 4 fouls is impressive. Having the clarity of mind to make a key pass in a split-second of opportunity is brilliant. Demonstrating the confidence and steadiness to hit a closely guarded 3-point shot reveals more nerve than seems possible from my experience.
Conversely, when I am working in the paddocks around four beasts who each weigh over a thousand pounds, I’m probably cooler than I should be. The other day, Light kicked out in my general direction so quickly without warning, I think it warped the laws of physics.
Suddenly I was no longer so calm and collected.
The horses have been moodier than normal the last few days. Maybe they are picking up on my tournament-watching energy of late. I think their nerves might be getting a little frayed, too.
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Hit Threes
I’ve figured it out. The way to make a big splash in the NCAA March Madness basketball tournament is to hit all of your three-point shots and shoot them with abandon from everywhere on the floor. If you want to beat a higher-seeded team, it sure helps to hit more three-pointers than they do.
While I’ve been watching basketball, Cyndie and Asher have been having some unexpected excitement in the great outdoors. I got an odd request from Cyndie in a phone call asking for a different leash for Asher and a change of gloves for her.
They had encountered a coyote on a walk on our north loop trail and Cyndie used the trunk of a pine tree to anchor Asher from bolting after the intruder. Her gloves and the leash ended up covered in pine sap. She said Asher howled with high intensity in expression of his desire to chase.
Unfortunately, the other excitement involved howling of a different sort. Asher suffered a too-close encounter with the electric fence around the back pasture. That’s the second time he has met that fate. Let’s hope it doesn’t take “three” to teach him once and for all to stay away from those white wires.
It might be a little harder to notice them today because we got a fresh coating of white over our landscape last night. Forecasters are telling us this is the first of two doses of snow we should anticipate, the second, on Sunday, being the bigger of the two.
We just might end up getting more snow in spring than we did all winter. Heavy, wet spring snow makes me fear for our tree branches.
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Getting Bugged
March weekends are spectator sport-acular and the past two days didn’t disappoint. It’s primarily college hockey and basketball competing for my attention as both sports are heading into their final four tournament games next weekend. Between the many men’s and women’s games, I snuck in portions of a Minnesota Wild NHL victory, MSL Loons match, and even a half-inning of MLB Twins grapefruit league game.
I LOVE seeing athletic endeavors. My basketball skills were learned in grade school and I played in the neighborhood, on intramural teams in high school, and in pickup games after hours with co-workers. I was a terrible shooter and generally too short to be effective but I knew how to dribble back in the days when officials would call palming violations.
It bugs me to watch poor dribbling discipline allowed to happen unchecked. Carrying the ball, letting it bounce over shoulder height, turning the hand over like it doesn’t matter. It matters to me. Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter to referees anymore.
I hate to be a whiner about horses getting frisky over the increasing hours of higher-angle sunlight but it bugs me when they get unpredictably jumpy and put my well-being at risk. I had a lapse of good judgment for a moment and tried standing my ground against Light as she wanted to run out from beneath the overhang because Mix was flexing her dominance. Thankfully, Light paused just long enough for me to come to my senses and get out of her way to let her pass.
I think I startled her by staying put and leaning into her chest. She stopped for a surprised second, allowing me to realize the mistake I was making. I would have felt awful if that had enabled Mix to give Light a bite in the butt. In this case, Mix was just telegraphing her disrespect toward Light’s direction with pinned ears and a feigned step.
Another thing that bugs me is box elder bugs.
Really? That is the sign of spring that greeted me as the sun warmed the south side of the barn yesterday? No thank you.
I’m going to stay focused on the calls of the robins that have returned to the branches of our trees. They don’t bug me at all.
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Loft Makeover
Yesterday was a day of furniture upheaval in our house, demonstrated first thing in the morning by the sight of the overstuffed chair that used to be in the loft suddenly occupying the floor of our kitchen.
Cyndie and I made the drive to Edina and met two of her brothers, Steve and Ben, who made this one-day project possible for us. The primary goal was to move the big sectional corner sofa from their mom’s basement back to our house. As long as we were there and Steve had made a truck and trailer available, other large items were included. We also moved a recliner, twin beds, a beautiful old glass-doored bookshelf cabinet, lamps, and several bags of linens.
In order to accommodate the furniture that is coming our way, we are passing some of our old things on to others who have expressed interest and/or are donating pieces to local organizations in need.
The challenge that loomed largest appeared to be how we would get the bigger items moved up our spiral staircase to the loft. It actually turned out to be rather straightforward and involved taking advantage of the railing to support and slide the couch sections on the way up.
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Honestly, the biggest complication of the day was caused by the icy driveway hindering Steve’s ability to move the truck and trailer as easily as we would have liked.
Once we had everything in place and the guys had headed back to the cities, I tested the new seating by checking out Iowa vs. Purdue in the men’s Big Ten Championship basketball game and promptly fell into a wonderful slumbering nap.
The new setup passed with my full and highest approval, although laced with an underlying feeling of disorientation over sitting in Marie’s basement furniture while now in my loft at home.
I blame the hour clock change yesterday of Daylight Saving Time. Makes everything seem out of whack for a few days until I get used to it.
A couple more naps on the couch while pretending to watch television will go a long way toward mentally adjusting to the changes accomplished yesterday.
Many thanks to Ben and Steve for coming all the way to our place and helping with the heavy lifting to make it all possible!
I’m now very ready for NCAA March Madness…
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Cheering Underdogs
Warning: Men’s college basketball sports-speak ahead.
As the March Madness NCAA Men’s basketball tournament whittles its way toward the final four, I realize I’ve had no connection to any of the teams involved from the very beginning. With no loyalty influencing my preference for either team in each game, I found myself rooting for the underdog in almost every case.
The thing about having underdogs in a competition is that you need the stronger, favored team to go up against or there wouldn’t be an underdog. Thanks, higher ranked teams, for being in the tourney but I’m cheering for the other guys.
The energy involved in vanquishing a better team is more entertaining to watch. The players get more amped up. The guys on the bench get increasingly more animated. The announcers voices rise in emotion. The underdog fans in the stands go wild.
It’s contagious. I can’t help myself cheering along for a group of people for whom I have no other connection.
There were an 11 and a 12 seed team in the Elite Eight. There were also three number 1 seeds (from three of the four regions) and a number 2. I guess the rankings look justified at this point.
It’s not as exciting, but I do admire the individual and collective abilities of these powerful high-seeded teams. I respect them, even as I am cheering for their downfall.
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Slow Start
Despite an early wake up call from the Post Office this morning, informing us we need to come pick up a package containing our new chicks, I’m experiencing a bit of a slow start. Maybe it is because I stayed up later than usual watching games of college basketball in the men’s NCAA March Madness tournament.
Maybe it’s a Foo Fighters hangover after bingeing episodes of Sonic Highways, Dave Grohl’s self-described 2014 love letter to the history of American music.
Whatever it is, I need to shake out of it and hit the ground running after I finish writing this and eating the breakfast Cyndie just served before she heads out on the chick run. She said she was making home-made eggs. We had eight in our stash this morning.
I wonder how many eggs we will be getting per day next year at this time? I’m guessing that will depend on how many chickens we can avoid losing in a massacre like happened to our first flock last June. It’s one of the facts of free-range life around here.
Predators happen. We are choosing to take our chances and have elected not to get a rooster or confine our birds to protected spaces. It may be an inefficient model for having chickens, but the benefits of enjoying our roaming hens everywhere around the property seems to balance the risks for us to have accepted the situation.
I gotta go.
Check out this photo of the way snow is melting in the shadow of the wood fence.
Isn’t nature fascinating?
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Relative Something 