Thanksgiving

This has always been my favorite holiday.  This year is somewhat reminiscent of when I was 5 or 6 years old (circa 1969) and there was a significant snow in upstate NY.  As I remember it, we went into my Grammy Grunt's, ate, came out to get in the car to go home, when we discovered over a foot of snow had fallen!
This year (2014) it is Thanksgiving eve and we are in the midst of a snow storm that is expected to dump between 6 and 10 inches of the white stuff. For this I am thankful. I am thankful for my family and friends, without whom I would be lost and hollow and my furry loved ones, past and present. The past few days have been emotionally challenging and unsettling for me but has offered up an opportunity for me to truly recognize and appreciate the value of sincere, reciprocal and deeply meaningful friendships and to jettison others that come up lacking.

Peace and plenty be with you and yours this holiday season.

It's The Wood That Makes It Good

I have had a life long love affair with wood. I am reborn being in the woods, especially hardwoods (add snow and I am floating on air), I love the smell of it-burning, being chopped, sawed,,standing, the sound of it, the feel of it. Splitting wood, since I was a teenager, is therapeutic to me. I recovered from a broken heart in high school while splitting more wood than my folks could use-thank goodness there was plenty needing splitting as I am rather morose and dramatic when it comes to love loss.
There was a national television show about wood in Norway a few winters back and a book about it that was quite popular in Scandanavia; I can relate.

So this weekend, we went from this

to this

It was a very good weekend.

Reading is FUNdamental

I have never self-identified as a reader of books. Although, in retrospect, there are a number of books from my youth I remember-  The Children's Pictorial Dictionary ( originally my father's, and I still continue to count it among my possessions), books about animals, outdoor survival skills, horror movies, dogs, science...Golden Books, various field guides.  During summer vacation a trip to the Book Mobile at the fire station was a highlight of the week.  I read a wide array magazines, usually cover to cover.  I enjoy puns and semantics, scored high on the verbal sections of the SAT, GRE and MAT and abysmally low in the math portions. Perhaps, it is best to say I am not a reader of fiction. I have thought about pursuing a degree in creative writing, but am always turned off by the required reading.

Maisie, my six year old, is at the age when reading is truly fundamental to her scholastic success (and beyond).  In an effort to model the joys of literacy to her, I began, this summer, to make an orchestrated effort to read books. Non-fiction. I read Adrift by Steven Callahan,  Yossi Ghinsberg's  Jungle,  Barbara Ehrenreich's Living with a Wild God and Curious Minds; How a Child Becomes a Scientists.  These last two have steered me toward a return to more science -related material-I just finished Endless Forms Most Beautiful by Sean B. Carroll. Tonight I picked up Melissa Coleman's This Life is in Your Hands and ordered a book about Alaskan prostitutes during the gold rush by Lael Morgan, a former employer, Good Time Girls of the Alaska-Yukon Gold Rush: Secret History of the Far North.

May we both reap the rewards and benefits of a lifetime of reading and learning.

Crossfit Hack

For the past few years I have been interested in Crossfit.  I've taken an "On Ramp", which just about killed me but also showed me the degree to which I have to focus in a workout to see results and I did-shaving off about 3 minutes of one of the workouts in about 3 weeks time. For me, the cost of joining a "Box" is outrageous and impractical. I pay 150% less at the "globo gym" I go to.  Sure, I don't have the group experience, but that's ok for me and I might not have all the Crossfit related equipment, but I scale most WODS (workouts of the day) anyway so I am happy where I am at, for now at least.  The biggest boon came for me when I changed my eating.  There is still room for improvement but I use My Fitness Pal to stay below a caloric intake and try to eat more on the Paleo side and I have lost about 40 pounds, dropped a few sizes and generally feel better than I have in years.  I have some aches and pains, mostly knees that get banged up in basketball (Senior Games), but even those are better because of my diet and working out.

Here is a sample workout I did today.  I call it Bringing Sexy Back.

warm up: 13 mins. elliptical trainer
stretching

strength building: chest press: 5 sets as many reps as possible adding weight each set until you can only bang out one rep max ( I got to 80lbs of weight not counting the bar on the Smith machine )

For time: 3 rounds of: 5 mins on Crosstrainer GO HARD
                                   21 swiss ball hamstring curls
                                   21 hollow rocks (a type of sit up)
                                   7  dumb bell biceps curls with heavy weight ( I did 25 lbs.)
GO HEAVY...go with it.

Stirred not Shaken

There's a line from a Mary Oliver poem, School, that questions "How many summers does a little dog have?"  In the poem she is talking about the undisciplined nature of the dog in question, chastising

“You’re like a little wild thing that was never sent to school".  In the end she encourages the animal to embrace his life, freedom and vigor  because all these will end too soon.  I have thought of this line so many times since first reading it this past early Spring. I think of it in regard to my daughter, Maisie, who is six.  I think of it for myself as I feel the speed of life quickening. 

I am nursing my third "knee event" since last year.  No direct trauma, no known structural issue-simply overuse- the demand (basketball, Crossfit) is greater than the resource (healthy meniscus, joint lube). It is like I have a mirror- distorted I hope- where I take measure of my own physical changes of aging. On one side of this mirror is Abby, our Keeshound who died last November; the other is Maisie.  Maisie is youth personified- a hard little body of muscle and sinew, all flexible and corporeally confident.

Last night I dreamt of old dogs, young girls, grandmothers' homes, childhood into adulthood friends, rogue waves and sharks. I won't bore you with the details or the tedious drivel of interpreting this neuronal  processing of the day or metaphysical coded message As an aside, dreams, if they indeed are messages from somewhere or someone are frustratingly like all spiritual communication- there never appears to be clear didactic sharing of information. 

The knee, the way this summer is playing out weather-wise as I find it cool, wet and very unsummery, the nature of my work, my current readings of Adrift and Living with a Wild God, and the unfolding of our child from one developmental stage to the next has me stirred up.

Let it suffice to say,  I am a work in progress.

Ooh, Ooh That Smell. Smells like...Ew, Never mind!

When I was about six years old, I had a classic yellow slicker.  A Paddington Bear type of rain coat and I loved that thing.  One July evening, I ventured out to collect night crawlers, which we did often because we fished every weekend in the summer with my extended family.  We would travel to various locales in the Adirondack region or along the Mohawk River on Saturday nights and then take our little 16 foot Star Craft out on the Great Sacandaga Lake on Sundays.

Summers in upstate New York are hazy, hot, and humid. A few days after my Lumbricus terrestris safari a most unsavory odor began to emanate from my room-more specifically, my dresser drawer, where, as you may have guessed by now, my beloved rain coat lay with a festering pool of worms in it's pockets. My mother could not even attempt a washing of the garment as it was indeed gag evoking. Into the the metal garbage can it went.  I am certain the ever present flies and their spawn feasted like kings that week.

Flash forward 45 years and the worms in the raincoat have been supplanted by dismembered body parts  of Scomber scombrus -  a.k.a.  a fetid pool of Atlantic Mackerel fish head in my tackle box.

Ah, the sporting life.

Freeport Town Landing
setting the stage for the gruesome discovery this evening

Kayoe: 6 year old speak for kayak

Today was Miss Maisie's inaugural kayak fishing experience.  We went to Estee's Lake in Alfred.  She sat in one kayak with her life vest and pole.  This was tied to my kayak and I towed her around.  Although the fish count was low for the day (3 in total: 2 bass and a bluegill all caught by me) we still were close to nature.  We were swarmed by dragon and damsel flies, saw a great blue heron with a fish, saw several turtles and evidence of beaver activity, spiders, fish in the water, and Maisie even managed to get a small leech to attach to her hand. This last incident, I have to say, she took VERY well-way better than I would have, but she did have her freak out moment when a spider was on her boat.

I told her on a day like today when I was six I would have been out fishing and island exploring with my parents on the lake I grew up in upstate New York, The Great Sacandaga.  I am hoping she continues to enjoy these experiences and seeks them out as I believe it will help her in mysterious and innumerable ways.

practicing

ready to roll

you would look cool too if you had your own guide and  paddler

target practice in the backyard

I Guess It's Been a While

I just brought my blog up to add an entry and saw the igloo photo in the title header...I promise to update this and make it seasonal this week.  Right now I only have a moment to add some items as I want to go see Keeping up with the Kardashians- my latest trash TV fetish! (Along with the newest season of Teen Wolf)

We have been busy putting the house on the market, ending a the school year, tending to a sick cat,  starting camp...I know it may not seem like it, but these things all take a great deal of time and energy, which unfortunately leaves little time for creative avocational outlets such as this blog.

This Old House -Sorta.

I have replaced our toilet paper holder for the third time.  I would like to share some things I learned about the process.  I am certain a more clever (or less tired) person could adapt this list into life lessons with minimal modification.

1. After you gather the tools you think you are going to need, you will not have all the tools you will need. This will necessitate several trips to the garage and back.

2. At some point you will realize you don't own some specific gadget that would make this installation a hundred times easier.

3. The instructions will be missing (at least) one vital step, similar to google maps tendency to leave out one often critical turn.

4. Something in the pre-packaged supplies will break or be missing.

5.  You will misplace a tool or piece of hardware at some point and loose several minutes searching for it-could be anywhere.

6. When installing a toilet paper roll holder specifically, the metal doohickeys that screw into the wall should face backward i.e. the dull, not the shiny part, faces outward.

7.  There is a pretty high likelihood the tiny screw that holds the posts tight will break off.

8. There is also a high likelihood that some small seeming irrelevant "tool" that came with the kit will break or bend or crack.


...but when all is said ( %#*&@) and done (see photo) you realize it's the small comforts in life that matter in the end (no pun intended).

Since I last posted, I am another year older as is my wife. The irony is I am in better shape than I have been in years.  Having a six year old requires it.  Plus, 50 is the new thirty these days.

We are working steadily to get our house ready to go on the market. We love it and it is very convenient, but the upkeep is a lot for two people who have little interest in these things.  We also would like to find a better school district and have two bathrooms.

We are going to Raleigh, NC for a few days during school break.  We are going to visit with Buzzy, Heather's brother. We are looking forward to it very much.  My feeling related to flying is like how I feel about running-hate it when I'm doing it it, but love the feeling after the fact.

Olio of Recent Days

Early spring is not my favorite time of year.  I'm lamenting the loss of winter (my true favorite) and anticipating the freedom of summer.  This time of year is "gas pipe" (as my friend Ruth would say) weather.  It has been raining today, so yeah, our basement has water in it and the sump pump is attempting to eject it.  Everything looks dumpy and depressed, as well as depressing.  Which is the perfect time to start looking at houses-if you find one you like now, you'll love it later! And apparently, going to open houses on rainy days is good for finding out which basements are REALLY dry.  Two places we looked at today had water in the cellars, although this allegedly had not happen before. We have decided to try to sell our house and move to something smaller, more energy efficient, with two bathrooms, and in a different school district.  We are quite ambivalent. The idea of packing, sorting, etc.  has us both slightly off balance. On the other hand, saving some time, $$$ and resources is quite alluring. The convenience of this location and the character of our house is also hard to give up. Theoretically, all of us are on board with changing schools.  It was actually, Maisie's idea, as she shared she gets distracted by kids in her class who act out. We have struggled with this since the beginning of the school year. Unfortunately, we don't know what to judge our experiences against, but have felt more certain that some other schools may not have the same level of behavioral issues and be a bit more academically challenging.  Even the after care program has had problems.  And it's only Kindergarten! If we can't sell our house in a timely fashion to move before the new school year, we will continue to work to improve Maisie's school situation and start more home improvement work as time and money allow. It helps to keep in perspective, that these are 'white peoples problems' -so many in the world do not have access to education or housing, so for this, I am grateful and humbled.

The animal sightings recently include a mink on the Ellis River in Jackson, NH, red-winged black birds, and timber doodles or wood cock.

Following is a photo essay of things seen this month:

Ski Trip

Spring Thaw

Maisie calls this an alcohol necklace because it looks like a Crown Royal bottle.

Post school dance, pre-birthday party.

School project

priming great grammies bed

finally pulled the trigger on some Clark's desert boots

Maisie's room with wall stripped to the lathe.

Maisie's finished room

some weird lizardy thing covered on croutons in the Planet Fitness parking lot

nature's snow sculpting

day lilly shoots-spring is springing

Great Grammie's bed all painted and made

Living with Animals Makes Everything a Little More Interesting

While it is certainly true my daily exposure to "nature" has diminished living in an urban setting, it is not all together absent.

Yesterday, while at a red light I watched as a red tailed hawk and a flock of pigeons battled it out over a busy intersection at rush hour.

The possum has been back and co-habitats with the chickens during the darkest hours of the night.

The robins and the occasional grackle and starling have besotted themselves on the crab apples.

And, one of the perks of working in my office is Maggie, the office dog.

Inter species mingling is alive and well you just have to open your eyes and your heart.

Another day at work, another belly rub

Nest box squatter

Crab Apple Ripple

It's 5 o'clock somewhere

The bar is now open

Attending a meeting

How we all feel 3 hours into this twice a month meeting

lap warmer

Didelphimorphia or 50 Pretty Good Reasons Why the Chickens Were Acting Freaky

Apparently, the girls had an uninvited night visitor.  I got up at 5 a.m. to go to the gym yesterday , glanced out the kitchen window and saw the coop door wide open, the orange light of the heating lamp staining the snow. I was mightily confused because the door had been shut and latched when I went to bed the night before.  When I was growing up, we had a Japanese Silkie named Floyd, stolen (and murdered) by the neighbor's grandson. So, I was on high alert that this was also juvenile shenanigans at work.  Of  course, the time had just "sprung forward" so it was once again dark at that hour.  I could make out the silhouette of Sadie down on the snow by the fence and Jane was in the path by the compost. They were both afraid to come to me but eventually came around and I herded them in to the coop.  The only sign of any struggle was an overturned water dish. Bertha, the smallest, was not in sight.   We'd had a dusting of snow. There were large chicken prints and then smaller, almost cat-like tracks.  These had one toe that was at 90 degrees to the "pad" and landed in pairs that weren't quite pairs.  Opossum where art tho?!

Exhibit A

 At that point I was thinking the possum had gone into the coop to  look for eggs and to scavenge all the crumbs of the kitchen scraps the chickens don't eat.  I was concerned that Bertha had jumped the fence and was in a neighbors yard and we'd be posting " Lost Chicken" photos around the 'hood to bring her home.  When I got back from the gym, the sun was coming up and Bertha was hot footing it across the snow to the coop.  Whew!

Then I started reading up on Didelphimorphia. Apparently, they have an appetite for eggs and the chickens from whence they come!  They possess 50  sharp, dagger like teeth and When threatened, opossums run, growl, belch, urinate and defecate. And when all else fails, they “play ‘possum" and act as if they are dead. It is an involuntary response (like fainting) rather than a conscious act. They roll over, become stiff, close their eyes (or stare off into space) and bare their teeth as saliva foams around the mouth and a foul-smelling fluid is secreted from glands. The catatonic state can last for up to four hours, and has proven effective as a deterrent to predators looking for a hot meal.  Mother Nature Network
Lovely.  No wonder the chickens were acting, well, chicken, after their encounter.

http://www.bobinoz.com/blog/4013/possums-and-opossums-australia-and-america-all-explained/

Trivia Fun:  Male opossums are called jacks and females are called jills. The young are referred to as joeys, just like their Australian cousins (Kangaroos), and a group of opossums is called a passel.

Living Real

I added a line from a Mary Oliver poem to the description of this blog.  It is words from her canine companion, Percy.  They resonate with me, especially as I get older and increasingly embrace "real" and try to be less caught up in the warren of sorting out truth and falseness, right and wrong, good and  bad. I am quick to judge and label experiences, people, objects.  I desire to do this less in my life.  There is  LOTS of opportunity to practice. Having a sensitive and compassionate six year old in the home certainly whets the stone.  Middle age sharpens the blade as well. Do I want to be real or right? Sometimes they are the same, but often, not so much.  Am I courageous enough?  Either way, fear or courage, will be real in the stories I collect.

We've been busy around these parts, which is one reason why this blog has been neglected. There has been football, basketball, holidays, birthdays, skiing, snowboarding, sledding, skating, Teen Wolf,  Olympics,weight loss, Crossfit, painting, reading, school, work, family, floor hockey...and gearing up for travel, mud challenges, summer camp, bike riding, scootering, skateboarding, home repairs, outside basketball, more birthdays...

Here is an in no way comprehensive visual report of what we've been up to:

rosy cheeks

x-country skiing

hockey/skating

not nearly enough apres ski

working out

winter

new snowboard

new haircut

old friends

snow tube park

big dog

winter sunset

older friends

just old

snow shoeing