Intelligence without ambition is a bird without wings.
~ Salvador Dali
Cooper’s Hawk. Photo by Zippy.
For a successful revolution it is not enough that there is discontent.
What is required is a profound and thorough conviction of the justice,
necessity and importance of political and social rights.
~ B. R. Ambedkar
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I just got back from picking up these free wooden drawers that were listed on Craigslist. I’m hoping to start a new sustainability project in my basement. Not sure of all the details, but wanted to document my start.
Needless to say, Zippy is thrilled.
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We have about nine inches of snow on the deck railing which, in the past, would have resulted in a nine-inch muffin top on the patio table. Not this time (as Lucille Bluth might say). For whatever reason, the wrought iron surface acted as a sifter; snow fell through the holes and only piled up along the seams.
The snow looks a bit like fancy icing on a big round sheet cake. However, it’s much too cold to go outside for a taste. It’s currently 7 degrees.
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Alert to danger
this dog isn’t man’s best friend
and she will whistle
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I just read GOOD PROSE: THE ART OF NONFICTION by Tracy Kidder and Richard Todd. As the cover says, it is “Stories and advice from a lifetime of writing and editing.” I highly recommend this wise and funny book.
There are many gems scattered throughout (and not just for nonfiction writers, but anyone who loves playing with words), and one has been in the front of my brain since reading it:
I remember in college reading F. Scott Fitzgerald’s unfinished novel The Last Tycoon and studying a note that he left in the manuscript: “Rewrite from mood. Has become stilted with rewriting. Don’t look — rewrite from mood.” I reread those lines so often, trying to understand them, that they stuck in my memory. Fitzgerald knew that there are at least two kinds of rewriting. The first is trying to fix what you’ve already written, but doing this can keep you from facing up to the second kind, from figuring out the essential thing you’re trying to do and looking for better ways to tell your story. If Fitzgerald had been advising a young writer and not himself, he might have said, “Rewrite from principle,” or “Don’t just push the same old stuff around. Throw it away and start over.”
I’m getting close to The End (of this draft) of my YA project, and very much appreciate Mr. Kidder sharing Mr. Fitzgerald’s wisdom with me. Maybe it will reach someone else who needs it now.
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Zoey has lived with us for the past eleven years and for the majority of those years, remained in either the house or yard. She (and Coco) didn’t get to go on neighborhood walks (or open space hikes) because they were out of control on leashes. When they saw another dog, no matter how far off in the distance, they’d bark, growl, lunge, and generally behave in a bat-shit manner.
Zoey right after we got back from today’s walk.
At one point early on, we spent a whole lot of money to have a personal dog trainer work with us. That strategy ultimately failed because of a lack of consistency. The dogs responded to me as the alpha, but couldn’t care less about pushover-Zippy’s commands or young Wildebeest and Zebu with their high voices and unassertive attitudes. The dogs still believed they were the alphas who needed to protect the pack.
It all came to a head years ago when I took Zoey and Coco for a walk. They went nuts when they saw another dog, and in their ensuing barking / twirling / lunging, knocked me to the ground. Both my knees were thoroughly black and blue.
That was it for me. I no longer felt guilty about having two dogs that never, ever left the yard.
And then Coco died. To help Zoey through her grief, we started walking her once a day. I’ll admit that it hasn’t been an entirely pleasant experience (one walk lasted a full three minutes because I had to drag Zoey home after she went ballistic at the sight of another dog), but I am pleased to say we’re having some enjoyable walks. Today’s, for example.
Zoey still has an alpha attitude, but she’s older and wiser (and a little less strong). I’m grateful we can give our old girl the gift of a daily walk.
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Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.
~ Albert Einstein
Great Egret at Kapok Park, October 2016
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You can’t try to be authentic. You either are or you aren’t.
~ Oscar Isaac
#subpost #wordpresscommunity
I’ll leave it at that.
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Zippy has started the task of scanning photo negatives from long ago. Right now he’s revisiting July of 1992 when we lived in Alaska and one of his sisters was visiting. We did a boat tour in Kenai Fjords National Park where we saw this handsome sea lion:
Because we have approximately one metric shit-ton of negatives we haven’t looked at in years, I’m guessing we’ll unearth more sea lion photos from our time in Alaska. That means there’s a very good chance I could begin posting one every Saturday, and #SeaLionSaturday could become a real thing. (Especially if 50 people started joining me in posting sea lion photos each Saturday. Friends, they might think it’s a movement!)
All I’m saying is that #Caturday isn’t the only catchy hashtag.
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Played with the settings
now he’s not just a dark blob.
Black cats tire me out.
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Yesterday and today have been frigid in these parts. The kind of cold that makes my teeth ache and my nostril hairs stick together as soon as I step outside. I’ve toted my space heater from room to room while waging an internal debate on the pros and cons of life in Florida or Arizona or Texas. (Okay, that’s melodramatic hyperbole.) However, the stuff about my nostril hairs is true.
But at this moment, I’m thankful for the promise of better things:
That’s a 29 degree swing in the right direction, and I’ll take it!
As that Little Orphan Annie with the freakishly blank eyes is fond of saying:
Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya tomorrow ….
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There’s a snowstorm headed this way, and the finches and chickadees are very busy at the feeders and heated bath. I’m grateful for my warm home and wish I could open it to my feathered friends tonight.
Then again, it’s probably not very cool to invite birds into a household that includes two cats.
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Today we pulled the plug on our telephone land line (I know, I know) and our television/cable. That felt really good. We now have an antenna and streaming service to cover our various viewing habits. (Note: we just watched a couple minutes of college basketball and, oh my, the clarity brought tears to my eyes. Also? Jim Boeheim somehow looks even more grumpy in high definition.)
We didn’t cut the internet service yet because we want to get everything in place with new email addresses first, plus I need to go through my 5000+ email inbox to delete and save accordingly. Oh, joy.
And even though I’m not looking forward to that task, I’m pleased we’re enough on top of things here at the ol’ homestead that we didn’t totally eff up that transition. Too bad I can’t say the same for cutting the cable cord. We just discovered that FX isn’t part of the streaming package we bought which means that I can’t finish watching the excellent BETTER THINGS starring Pamela Adlon (who co-created and writes it with Louis C.K.)
I was stupidly savoring the episodes rather than inhaling them in one sitting. And now I can’t finish the season. I’d classify that as very sad-bad news.
Wouldn’t you know the one time evil Comcast immediately responds to my request, it’s to disconnect my service?!
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Marcel and Zoey soaking up the sun together.
Zippy took this with his phone so quality isn’t great, and I’m wishing I’d adjusted Zoey’s tail to match Marcel’s (and maybe also Zoey’s rear left leg), but other than that, it’s a perfect photographic representation of their friendship.
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I’m ready to skip town.
Still not finished with this draft of the YA-from-hell.
Intended to finish by November 30 in my version of NaNo, but life intervened in a couple big ways and derailed those efforts.
This young hitchhiker could have walked out of the pages of my manuscript. (Photo by Atlas Green)
I have written several drafts of this book, but never the final scenes. While I’ve mapped out those scenes, they’ve never been fully realized. I’m starting to wonder if it’s a case of “talking myself out of a book;” in other words, precisely because I have visualized and plotted out those scenes, I’ve lost all interest in writing them. Maybe they already feel done? Maybe I’ve lost faith in my abilities and so want to give up? Maybe I feel my efforts would be better spent on a more high concept story?
I can’t help thinking that my uncharacteristic antipathy toward this project somehow holds the key to my stuckness. I also can’t help thinking that if I just wrote the effing scenes, I’d escape these circles of hell.
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Click on image for full-gloom effect.
Out my window now
one dove in sea of brown-gray.
When’s the damned solstice?
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Today I’m thankful for my mental and emotional flexibility.
Exhibit A is this photo of Cliff Swallows.
I was searching my photo files for a picture of my dog Zoey,
and opened an unlabeled file in hopes of finding one there.
Instead, I found this eighteen-month old photo of those delightful birds
and immediately abandoned my planned blog post about walking my dog.
I’m sure Zoey won’t mind.
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A turtle at Kapok Park, October 2016
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The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched – they must be felt with the heart.
~ Helen Keller
As per my last late-night post, yesterday we were evacuated due to a fire in the open space near our home. We hadn’t experienced that before. The only other time there was a big fire, we were out of town. (Our former neighbors took it upon themselves to come in the house to collect a crate full of framed wedding and family photos. They also put a sprinkler on top of our shake-shingle roof. Good neighbors.)
So last night as we watched the fire out our windows, we had to start thinking about what we should take in case of evacuation. Zippy and I believed it would be easy to grab the basics (the animals and the same framed photos plus passports, social security cards, etc and a few clothes) and get out. But by the time we received the automated call telling us to get out, we’d amassed more than that.
I gained some insights into my personal world view.
That list makes it seem as if I brought every single thing I owned. Not true. All sorts of stuff was left behind. Objects that caught my eye as I passed through rooms, shuttling stuff to the cars.
But my decisions are a moot point. The fire was extinguished and we’re back in our house with all our stuff. Or, as George Carlin would say, all our shit.
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The fire has been contained and we’ve come back home. But this is why I nearly didn’t blog today.
Whew.
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A bloom from my garden way back in July.
Take that, you gloomy sunshine-poor day!
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Last night Zippy and I celebrated my birthday by going to a dive bar to hear local bands. My logic was that I’d feel less old and obsolete if I hung around the younger generation and heard new-to-me music.
The first band was a punk trio that played song after song in what felt like 45 second bursts of sonic-boom fury. People avoided standing in front of the stage because it was SO loud, and if I hadn’t feared for my long-term hearing, I would’ve been out there pogo-sticking. There’s something invigorating about music you can feel in your spleen.
Back at home where I’m modeling my wrist band that proved I was old enough to consume alcohol. I had to show ID for that sucker!
We stayed for two more bands and had a good time. Earlier in the week when I’d told my brother and his girlfriend our plans, she’d approved of my pre-emptive logic but also warned we’d be the oldest ones there. Well, I’m happy to say that Zippy and I spotted five people in the crowd who were clearly older than us. We high-fived after each sighting.
My plan was a success.
Today was another blue-sky-and-sunshine day, so I invited Zippy for a hike up in the open space. It was blissfully quiet out on the trails.
Another good call on my part.
Me meandering ahead of Zippy. We’d just scared up a Red-tailed Hawk, some magpies, and a flicker that’d been hanging out in a tree together.
So now I’m moving beyond another year and another birthday, and looking forward to any-and-all good stuff up ahead.
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Tracy with Zebu and Wildebeest.
Today’s my birthday,
lots of gifts over the years.
Love these two the most.
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Tracy Abell 