Posts Tagged ‘napping’
That’s October
Now, this is more like it. Although that doesn’t mean we are necessarily enjoying it. Remember how much griping I was doing about the hot weather extending well into September and October this year? There has been a change.
That is what October is expected to look like. It is chilly, rainy, blustery, and miserably dreary-looking outside. That leads to cold and wet animals, as well as the people who need to be outdoors caring for them. Just the way it should be in the tenth month of the year up here in the Northland.
We have successfully completed our most essential winterization steps while it was still comfortable outside, making days like yesterday much easier to endure. The pump was removed from our landscape pond on Monday, and the water line down to the labyrinth was drained and blown out with my air compressor.
The horses all have on rain shells to give them a thin bit of added protection from the battering wind-blown rain showers. There is little that we find sadder than a sopping wet, shivering horse. The rain shells do prevent that result, at the very least.
This blast of real October weather has allowed me to become more sloth-like than usual, and I am taking full advantage of it by doing little to nothing that could be construed as useful or productive unless one considers napping in a recliner as being useful.
At this age, I find that doing nothing produces less guilt than it did when being responsible for raising children or working for someone who was paying for my time. I’m sure that Cyndie would rather I stay as busy as she is every day, but since she sets such a high bar of comparison, I long ago proved my methods fall far short of the examples she sets.
If there are two ways to do anything in this world, Cyndie and I will always choose opposite methods. It makes it all the more special when we succeed at things as a couple. We rely on the magic (flexible) thread of love to keep us together after banging heads trying to execute any version of a metaphoric two-person lift.
The end goal always tends to be the same for both of us, so that helps.
Thirteen years after moving here, our end goal has blurred a bit. Wintervale never became an income generator that could help us cover expenses like we originally envisioned. October has a way of feeling like our beginning, but it also always ushers in the end of so many things growing outdoors.
It’s hard to think about ourselves and the big picture of another year at Wintervale when videos keep surfacing of masked thugs uncontestedly kidnapping people in broad daylight in US cities, while portions of the White House are being demolished by heavy machinery. Rather symbolic of a very scary future for our country.
I wonder how business is going at the inflatable frog costume factory these days. If Cyndie and I were going out for Halloween, we’d probably dress as a masked thug with a military vest handcuffed to an inflatable frog.
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Watching Changes
Each afternoon that I have been up at the lake has brought melting temperatures, and yesterday was the warmest so far. It climbed to 58°F and turned the surface of the lake from white to wet.
That buoy I photographed the day before took on a whole new appearance.
Taking advantage of the mild conditions, I worked on a wood sculpting project on the deck in the bright sunlight. When it came time for a break, I laid down and faded into a nap on the deck boards, waking with my face in a puddle of drool that signaled a good sleep was had.
I stayed down on my back on the deck and listened to every sound I could detect, including the faint hum inside my head. Blood flow? A version of tinnitus, maybe. When I finally stood up and surveyed the surroundings, it became clear that I was watching the swift change from winter’s snow cover to exposed ground that was heralding the coming of spring.
Most of all, I was immersing myself fully in the pleasures of not needing to do anything by any specific time.
Mission accomplished.
Eventually, I will need to wash some dishes. I’m going to take advantage of staying in this lazy mode for one more day. Tomorrow, I will set things in order here to leave no trace and drive home to Cyndie and the animals. She leaves for Florida on Thursday and I will be in charge of the dog and horses for the week she is away, following their daily schedule of needs.
Having had these few days away on my own will go a long way toward making Cyndie’s next absence less daunting, especially since I love the routine of animal care just as much as I love these little breaks from it. When we finally end up at home together for a stretch of time again, it will be like a bonus.
Luckily, I love my time alone just as much as I love living together with Cyndie.
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Sleeping Well
It’s one of those days. I can’t help it. When nothing specific has happened, it’s as if nothing but dreams start bubbling up in my head and flowing out of my fingers onto the keyboard. I suppose it doesn’t help that I gave in to an urge to rewatch the insane Steven Conrad dark-comedy-spy-drama series, “Patriot” last night. A lot of this series is like a bad dream.
Rewatching a much-loved television series is like visiting with old friends you haven’t seen in a long while. It’s why we returned to the beginning of “Reservation Dogs” after finishing the last season. We missed all the characters.
I’m wondering if the spy movie, “Argylle” might have triggered my memories of the “Patriot” series. I understand these shows aren’t for everyone, and I don’t know what my appreciation for them says about me beyond my comfort with dark humor, but they seem to ring some pleasure bells in my head.
Yesterday, I allowed myself to fade into a mid-day slumber in the recliner and dreamed I was floating with a life vest in some water and trying to answer a question Cyndie had asked me from her seat in a low-riding boat. As I attempted to answer I found myself sinking below the surface and I couldn’t do anything about it. My eyes wouldn’t open and my hands and feet wouldn’t move.
I thought to myself, “If I could just open my eyes…” but I couldn’t because I was sleeping at the time. And that is what woke me. My ‘dream self’ began to recognize that my ‘real self’ was asleep. I find moments of lucidity in dreams to be a gift.
Sleeping well enough to enjoy my dreams is also a gift. I do not take for granted my good fortune of having cultivated good sleep habits. I owe a lot of my sleeping success to the information I learned in Matthew Walker’s book, “Why We Sleep – Unlocking the Power of Sleep and Dreams.” I highly recommend it!
Since good sleep is one of the more important aspects of optimal health, it is something of a chicken-and-egg dilemma. There is a positive feedback loop in that good health allows for good sleep and getting good sleep is high up on the list of healthy things we can do for ourselves.
If you are out of sync, for either health or sleep, I don’t know if one is solvable before the other. Which comes first?
Don’t bother pondering the question. We can’t lose if we set our sights on striving for both at the same time!
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4th Down
The NFL Wildcard Playoff Weekend is not over yet (2 games left today), but I am already a little woozy after two days of elimination desperation decision-making about going for it on 4th down. They weren’t all close games but they all contained the drama of getting knocked out of the playoffs in the first week if you lose.
Watching football several days in a row is a lot easier to do when the weather outside is frightful. It’s also a little less stressful for me this year because my team isn’t a contender. My allegiance leans toward teams representing the same division and conference as my Minnesota Vikings, but it’s not unlike me to change my mind in the middle of a game and root for their competition if circumstance dictates.
Color me fickle when it comes to other franchises and their fans. I had to pull for the Detroit Lions last night because I wasn’t up to seeing fans’ disappointment if they’d lost.
As the series, “Ted Lasso” reiterated, “It’s the hope that kills you.” In an earlier game, it was Dallas fans who had their hopes crash and burn in dramatic fashion. I felt sorry for them but it was offset by how thrilled the fans of Green Bay were.
Asher was a little disappointed we didn’t spend as much time outdoors as usual. He wasn’t interested in any of the NFL games. We pretty much exhausted all of his favorite indoor games. We’ve converted his outdoor “indestructible” throw ring into an indoor chew toy that occupies him for large chunks of time when he gets in that groove.
His bin of indoor toys becomes a wonderful time sink when a handful of his dry food is tossed in and around the objects so he has to nose stuff out of the way to find the precious morsels.
When that game is over there are usually more toys scattered around on the floor than remain in the bin. We can tell the exercise is completed when the sound of crunching kibble stops occurring. He might move around a few more toys, but when the munching is over, he’ll soon be looking for a new distraction.
I count myself lucky when he decides the next activity can be a nap instead of incessant whining to go outside.
It’s funny, I’m just the opposite. I start whining when I want to take a nap. When I’m successful and permission to sleep is granted, it’s a bit like getting a first down on that dramatic 4th down try.
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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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Knocked Silly
We were in the backyard playing with Asher off-leash on Monday. I had just returned from the health clinic in River Falls where I’d been given the second shot of a vaccine for shingles. I like to use my arms as much as possible after a shot to disperse the injection and reduce localized pain. Roughhousing with the canine was helpful right up until it wasn’t at all.
Asher was with Cyndie when her phone rang. I was downhill from them, sitting on the ground. As Cyndie answered the call, Asher suddenly bolted straight for me. I barely made it to my knees before he had closed the distance and he wasn’t slowing down. Unable to make a move to dodge 70 pounds of beast barreling toward me, I turned my head as Asher made impact.
The collision knocked off my prescription sunglasses, sent my hat flying, and threw me to the ground, face down with my head pointing downhill. I don’t remember dropping the gloves I was holding. I lay still for a while trying to establish my level of consciousness.
I wondered if Asher was okay and whether my ear was bleeding. It felt like my glasses had cut me. I decided Asher was okay because I suddenly became aware of him zooming faster than ever back and forth across my prone body with one of my gloves in his mouth like a prize.
Reaching for my ear, my hand came back dry, so, no cut. Cyndie missed witnessing the collision but soon after, deduced something had happened and walked over to me while continuing with her phone conversation. I wobbly made my way to my feet and sought to retrieve my glove from the dog who was masquerading as a freight train on amphetamines.
“I think he may have given me a concussion,” I said to Cyndie. Asher showed no sign of damage to his thick head. I was feeling tender behind my right ear, opening and closing my jaw several times in search of some kind of assessment of damages.
The collision brought on a headache that lasted for two days. By Tuesday morning it was becoming hard to tell whether my achiness was due to the shingles vaccine or the dog collision. It’s safe to assume it was both. I was beginning to hurt all over. It seemed logical to reduce my activity for a day or two, which worked well in conjunction with days of horrid air quality due to more wildfire smoke from Canada.
Yesterday afternoon, sleep beckoned and I succumbed to a heavy nap for more than an hour. Upon waking, it felt like I’d been knocked silly.
Because, well… yeah, I was.
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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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Nothing, Really
Nothing. But that didn’t stop me from trying. This is what I think happened. I drove home from the lake alone, leaving shortly after I woke up. Upon my arrival, Cyndie served a delicious slice of quiche for a brunch meal. After unpacking my things, I just wanted to relax. I turned on some of the Olympic coverage and let sleep nibble at the edges of my consciousness.
The nibbling failed to become a complete bite and I squandered the rest of the afternoon and evening accomplishing very little of productive value. Not even a respectable nap.
I think it was a result of getting too little sleep the two nights prior, compounded by going out two days in a row to tax my lungs in the smoky air by biking to exertion. That resulted in sleep deprivation and lung congestion that left me uncharacteristically lethargic.
Left me with nothing, really.
This week’s adventures should be much more interesting. I will be home alone because Cyndie is taking Melissa and her two girls up to the lake for their annual summer getaway week at Wildwood. She is taking Delilah with her, so that will simplify my responsibilities here significantly.
No dog and no chickens. It’ll just be the horses, Pequenita, and me. And hopefully, a lot less smoke in the air.
Wouldn’t that be something?
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Like That
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Sometimes, between the choice of a soft, comfy bed and a hard floor…
…I’ve been known to choose the floor.
Bathed in warm sunshine, either location may prove to be a good choice for a little daytime snooze.
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Weather Fatigue
I succeeded in getting all our grass and innumerable dandelions mowed Sunday. I have one peeve about mowing this time of year, when the lovely yellow flowering weed is at its peak and starting to go to seed.
Do you see it? All that grass so freshly cut and one 10-inch dandelion stem sticking out like a sore thumb. There were others, but that one just stood out so defiantly, I couldn’t help but stop and take a picture. Then I snapped it off by hand.
Mowing dandelions can be a frustrating endeavor for a perfectionist.
Like the meteorologists predicted, Memorial Day was a total washout. It reminds me of two years ago this month when I had tried to host a day of cycling with friends in preparation for the Tour of Minnesota.
I captured this memory from that day:
I have gotten smarter about trying to make outdoor plans that prefer sunny, warm weather. I simply don’t make them. Yesterday, we responded precisely as a cold, rainy day deserves, snuggling back in bed for some extra reading and napping.
Pequenita was all in with that plan.
She doesn’t have a problem with this weather. Personally, I am getting worn down by this chilly rain pattern we have endured so far this spring. Sure, I wouldn’t mind if I could curl up and nap all day, but the landscape doesn’t stop growing just because it’s not sunny and warm outside.
Maybe I’ll get lucky and this trend will peter out by the time the bike trip kicks off in the middle of June.
It would help my frame of mind greatly if that were to happen because we are headed far enough north for this year’s route that cold and rainy could translate into a little sleety/snowy, if you know what I mean.
That would definitely exacerbate my current case of weather fatigue.
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Relative Something 