Relative Something

*this* John W. Hays' take on things and experiences

Posts Tagged ‘noticing

Coop Sprucing

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Yesterday, I finally got around to attaching the summer window awnings on the coop. During the winter we install plexiglass panels over the hardware mesh openings, but in the summer it’s wide open to the weather. For a little protection from wind-blown rain, I add some window-well covers.

Last year, one of the plastic covers was bashed full of holes by a hail storm. Luckily, I had a spare.

While I was tending to the coop, I also added some cross-beams to the chicken ramp because Cyndie felt the chickens needed better footing going up and down.

The Buff Orpington that had been inside laying an egg when I first showed up to work, came out to test the ramp after all the drilling and hammering stopped.

Initially, she seemed hesitant about even coming all the way out the door, but eventually scampered down the ramp without delay. I think she likes it.

After Cyndie came in from tucking the hens in and shutting the chicken door later in the evening, I asked her if she noticed the ramp improvements.

“Nope.”

“Well, did you see the window covers?”

“Nope.”

She had been at her parent’s house while I was sprucing up the coop and I hadn’t mentioned anything about it after she got home.

I guess this demonstrates the changes weren’t overly ostentatious, since she didn’t even notice a thing.

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Written by johnwhays

June 19, 2020 at 6:00 am

Noticing

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Written by johnwhays

February 23, 2020 at 11:03 am

Noticeable Changes

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I get up at the same time each work day, but the sunrise doesn’t. Yesterday, it was completely dark as I navigated my way, by feel, down the hall toward the kitchen to get my breakfast and lunch items out of the refrigerator, before traipsing toward the garage door with my arm outstretched, heading off to work.

It was the first time this season that I realized I can’t see my way through the house in the morning any more.

Last night, it was cool enough with the doors and windows open that we actually kept the blankets over us in bed. That hasn’t happened in a loooong time.

Having blankets over me must have led to some tossin’ and turnin’ overnight, because the fitted sheet on the mattress had slipped up off the corner and the area under my body looked like it had been through the ringer.

It creates an absolutely unacceptable situation each night when I am ready to tuck in, if the bottom sheet is in a jumble of wrinkles left over from the night before. I am the Princess and the Pea when it comes to my bedtime ritual.

The bottom sheet must be stretched TIGHT, or I am bothered all night long.

Cyndie and I have figured out what we are going to jointly buy for our wedding anniversary next month. New sheets! A set that actually fits our mattress.

Imagine that!

Monday night into Tuesday I had a dream that involved some vivid eating. I filled a bowl with cereal and milk and was shocked with myself to be completely ignoring my self-imposed limitations focused on reducing sugar in my diet. Not only that, but a short time later in the dream, I was taking a bite of some fancy chocolate cookie.

The middle was thick with a gooey chocolate, and as I sank my teeth into it, the creamy chocolate solidified onto my two front teeth. Still in the dream, I reached up to pry the chocolate down off my teeth, which woke me because I had actually reached up and was trying to pull my mouthguard down off my teeth.

I wear the guard to keep from grinding my teeth while I sleep.

Apparently I wasn’t sleeping sound enough to paralyze my body during the dream.

That’s going to change when we get new sheets. The nights are getting longer, what better time to upgrade the sleeping environment?

Yes, I called myself the Princess and the Pea.

It makes Cyndie laugh.

Some things never change.

Here’s another view of the sky from late Monday afternoon.

Those clouds were in a constant state of change, …and it was very noticeable.

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Written by johnwhays

August 22, 2018 at 6:00 am

Little Details

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In the slogging day to day of experiences that are hardly noteworthy, little details can become a surprise of noteworthiness. You can’t plan it. Things just happen. The greatest value is in simply noticing when happenings happen.

Yesterday, I was walking Delilah along one of our oft treaded trails when I suddenly felt this child-like urge to toy with her as obsessively fixated on some scent. I dropped to my knees in the snow and put my head next to her, excitedly asking her what she was smelling.

She seemed a little taken aback by my odd behavior, but carried on sniffing when she saw I was just joining her in the action. I zeroed in and put my nose right at the slightly discolored spot she had been checking.

Nothing, nothing, nothing, OH MY!

Skunk!

I smelled a faint, but very identifiable scent of a skunk.

Maybe if I would put my nose to the ground in the same manner that dogs do, I would gain a much greater understanding of why she reacts the way she does on our daily treks around our land.

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Written by johnwhays

February 18, 2018 at 10:44 am

Noticing Moments

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Illness has slowly been making its way through some of the staff at work, and I’ve heard tell of it visiting some of my family. Somewhere between the two, after the weekend of visitors, I brushed too close to a source. My body responded with all the classic symptoms.

It’s an almost indistinguishable cross between a cold and allergies. After an impressive run of relatively good health, experiencing an affliction such as this helps me to realize how many things there are about living every day that I take for granted.

Certainly, I now have a new level of respect for how pleasant it is to have a clear and healthy sinus cavity on a daily basis.

As I stepped toward our spiral staircase from up in the loft, I noticed how impressive it is to be able to stride unhesitatingly over the edge of the floor and float down the massive pine steps. It doesn’t seem like that big a deal usually, but yesterday I found myself hyper-aware of what a marvel it is to have that ability.

With tired, stinging eyes, my drive home from work yesterday was an extra challenge of not driving distracted. Well, not only distracted, but actually asleep. When I arrived safely home, my mind was drawn to one specific goal. I wanted to lay down on our bed, pull the cover over my body, and close my eyes for a nap.

My nose has suffered a days’ worth of abuse from tissues wiping the constant flow and my eyes stung. I didn’t want to be touched. I just wanted to completely give in to the urge to sleep. Pequenita couldn’t resist. I think she spends her whole day dreaming of the moment when I will come home and lie down on that bed with her.

She purred and kneaded her way up my body, arriving at my head. My arms were snuggled deep below the covers and my irritated eyes were frozen shut in resistance to the sting. So she head butted me right in the nose. It was the absolute worst intrusion to the comfort I was so desperately seeking.

I didn’t react. I just wanted to forget the insult and enter dreamland. So she did it again, harder.

I noticed how cute it can seem sometimes when she does that head-butting action. How dear it is that she seeks my attention with such fervor. And I noticed how different it comes across when I feel miserable and my nose is particularly sensitive.

Why is it that this kind of illness triggers an obscure mental focus? I noticed my slippers of many years. I don’t know why I find it so hard to part with my house slippers. Even though these long ago developed a crack in the sole that lets wetness in –noticeable when making brief excursions through puddles in the garage or on the deck or driveway (obviously, venturing out of the house)– they still function perfectly well in every other regard.

I haven’t given a thought to replacing them. How could I? These are the ones. There are no others to be had.

Until I finally do. Then the new pair become “the ones,” for the next decade and a half.

Just some things I noticed.

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Written by johnwhays

April 20, 2017 at 6:00 am

Comes Around

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Last year, when I was home full-time, I often looked forward to the moment when Cyndie would arrive home from work and cruise up the driveway where she could see the results of my day’s effort on some project or another. Of course, this only worked if she made it home before dark, which is a tough thing to do during the period when the sun sets before 5:00 in the afternoon.

Sadly, more often than not, I would need to prompt for some feedback, and the response tended to reveal that she hadn’t noticed a thing. After the long commute, just reaching the driveway safely becomes the primary milestone of note, which tends to swamp the senses and blur specific details that may have been noteworthy.

Yesterday, after I pulled up the driveway, I did see the horses grazing in the hay-field nearby, but after that, pretty much a blur. I found Delilah waiting on the other side of the door, as I walked into the house, but no Cyndie. After a wonderfully happy greeting from our dog, I watched her move to the doors beside the fireplace which provide a view beyond our deck to the back yard hill that slopes down to the labyrinth garden.

With no leaves on the trees, it was easy to spot Cyndie pushing the reel mower on the path of the labyrinth. Delilah anxiously followed her master’s every move in the distance. That dog really bonds with the person who is home with her all day.

When Cyndie eventually made her way back up to the house, she promptly asked me how the place looked when I pulled in.

Busted.

I hadn’t noticed all the work she had labored to accomplish on her own while I was away. I felt awful to have missed it, and I gained a new appreciation for what it was like for her last year, before our roles became reversed.

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Written by johnwhays

November 3, 2015 at 7:00 am