I wonder if Agnes will deliver meals to my home?
Saturday Six: The Farewell to Summer Vacation Edition
1) This is the last weekend before school starts
2) so Wildebeest and Zebu are cramming as much as they can
into these final days of freedom
3) while I try to adjust to the fact I now have a high school senior and sophomore
4) and the fact that I'm no spring chicken and pretty soon will be an even older chicken
left alone in the roost with Zippy
5) which actually doesn't frighten me the way it seems to freak out some people I know
6) because I've always had my own thing going on independent of my kids but, still,
a senior and a sophomore? Really? Me?
photo by Zippy
(As an aside, may I mention how frustrating it is to post on LiveJournal these days? Wonky spacing, etc.)
Word Count
I actually have no idea what my word count is right now
because I'm writing in chapter chunks and don't really care
about total word count.
All I know is I'm back in the 1000-words-per-day saddle
and it's the best thing happening for me these days.
I'm a little past the halfway point in this first draft
and I'm going to push on through to the end.
I hope to finish before our fall conference in a month
because then I'll show up there feeling like a champ.
You heard it here first, folks: Tracy is going to feel like a champ.
image from morguefile.com
(For those pondering the significance of this image:
I went to morguefile.com and put "champ" into the search engine,
hoping I'd get the image of a boxer such as Muhammad Ali.
Nope. Only boxer dogs)
It’s Monday Mourning
My heart hurts.
I’m not even sure where to begin with this story
that involves an eccentric old juniper tree and a neighbor.
Short story: neighbor didn’t like eccentric juniper tree
that grew behind my fence in a Dr. Seuss-like fashion,
and over the years advocated for cutting it down because
the not-conventionally-attractive tree interfered with her view.
I defended the tree on the grounds it partially blocked my
view of the enormous new house down the hill but also
stated that I liked the tree because it had character.
Neighbor continued to advocate for removal and last year
I begrudgingly said she could cut off the very top five feet or
so of the droopy, swamp creature-esque tree. Neighbor
did nothing until one night this past week when we had another
conversation about the tree. I repeated that I liked the tree because it had
character and because it blocked the house below, but that she could top it off.
I’m sure you’ve guessed what happened.
On Saturday afternoon, while I was home and completely unaware,
my neighbor came into my yard, went behind the fence and butchered the tree
so that it now just reaches above the fence.
As soon as I walk onto my patio and face downhill, I see the scarred remains jutting over
the fence. Behind it I see the enormous house down below. Then I close my eyes
and see the off-center, funky old juniper that used to provide habitat for birds and squirrels.
I’m crying as I write this.
I feel as if I let down that tree, that I should not have made any assumptions
about how it would be treated by my neighbor.
I wish I could rewind the tape and handle the whole situation differently.
Yesterday while I was writing a letter to my neighbor about the hurt and anger I felt,
Zippy discovered a card from her in our front door.
Neighbor’s card said a tree was being planted in a National Forest in my honor
and also that she’d plant another tree behind the fence if I wished.
She apologized and said she’d never do that again.
My anger is mostly gone but I cannot shake the sadness.
I’m not sure how to move forward.
It feels disrespectful to leave the tree as is but I don’t know if I can cut it down.
Yesterday morning when I stood next to it, crying, a bird flew from the lower branches.
This whole situation has affected my health and I can’t see how it’s ever going to get easier.
Whenever I face that direction I’ll either see where the tree used to be or its mangled remains.
Neither feels like a good choice.
How’s It Going?
I’ve been neglecting LJ-land so Zoey and I are popping in to see what’s shakin’.
If nothing exciting’s happening make something up in the comments, okay?
Westen on Obama
If you read only one op-ed piece in the next week, read
What Happened to Obama? by Drew Westen
Here’s a taste:
When Barack Obama rose to the lectern on Inauguration Day, the nation was in tatters. Americans were scared and angry. The economy was spinning in reverse. Three-quarters of a million people lost their jobs that month. Many had lost their homes, and with them the only nest eggs they had. Even the usually impervious upper middle class had seen a decade of stagnant or declining investment, with the stock market dropping in value with no end in sight. Hope was as scarce as credit.
In that context, Americans needed their president to tell them a story that made sense of what they had just been through, what caused it, and how it was going to end. They needed to hear that he understood what they were feeling, that he would track down those responsible for their pain and suffering, and that he would restore order and safety.
Yeah, we all know what story he chose to tell that day and in the two-and-a-half years since.
Sirota on Obama
I appreciate David Sirota’s insights and want to share this column:
OBAMA ISN’T WEAK (HE JUST ISN’T A LIBERAL)
Maybe I’ll make copies
and hand them out to the many, many people
still convinced Obama’s heart is in the right place
and that it’s the nasty Republicans
who are preventing him from doing the the right thing.
If You Build It, You Will Sleep
Last week we went to Westcliffe where my mother has a small cabin.
A few people sleep outside on the deck but most everyone sleeps in tents.
Zippy and I’ve pitched our tent in the same place for years,
a slightly sloped, rocky spot beneath some pine trees.
I don’t get very good sleep while there and after a few nights of that, I’m exhausted.
So, this year we (um, I) decided we should have tent platforms.
Via Craigslist, I found enough secondhand Trex decking for two 10′ x 12′ platforms
and in early July we loaded that and a bunch of other lumber into a 16′ rental truck and took it down.
Here’s where we built the first platform (for Zebu and Wildebeest) last week:
Here are Zippy and Zebu working hard to build a level frame (Wildebeest was off chasing a gorilla) :
Zippy and Zebu are math-heads, and they had a grand time measuring and strategizing
while I served as beast of burden and moved lumber and tools as needed.
They made great progress that first day but we had to pause while it stormed:
When we finished, the boys had what turned out to be The Best Morning Spot on the property . . .
shade until ten in the a.m., baby!
We built Zippy’s and my platform after that (note the 9 on the headboard; Zebu and I drove into
town for drill bits and when he saw the house numbers on display, insisted we get some. He
and Wildebeest are number 4 while I opted for "number nine, number nine" in honor of The Beatles):
And now Zippy and I have this glorious view of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains:
But even better, we sleep well.
Off to the Mountains
Just wanted to say I’ll be scarce around these parts for the remainder of the week
as I’ll be in the wilds without internet access or cell phone service.
Send up a flare if you need to get in touch.
In the meanwhile, Agnes is facing her fear of the high dive . . .
AGNES by Tony Cochran
I can only hope I’ll have Agnes’s grace and presence of mind
should I ever find myself dangling above a pool.
Name Those Phobias!
AGNES by Tony Cochran
Okay, I’m hard-pressed to come up with a more original phobia than these,
but I will admit to being seriously creeped out whenever I think back to the video
I saw of a male frog giving birth through the skin on his back.
Not even a spork could make that more scary for me.
How about you?
Got PHOBIAS?
Friday Five: The Losing My Memory Edition
1) For several years I’ve had to walk out of rooms and back into them
in order to remember why I walked in there in the first place.
(A bothersome turn of events but not too scary, memory-wise.)
2) More and more frequently, I feel as if I’m turn turning into my mother
who used to call out each of her five kids’ names before hitting on the right one.
(A somewhat humorous lapse in mental faculties that feels a bit scarier whenever
I accidentally call my kid or husband by my dog or cat’s names.)
3) A couple months ago, I drew a total and complete blank on a friend’s name
for about five minutes.
(That memory void freaked me out, and freaked out Wildebeest even more
when I confessed it to him.)
4) Earlier this week, I was writing a check (something I don’t do all that regularly but
have done for thirty years), and temporarily forgot how to write out the cents part of the amount.
I really and truly could not remember how to do it.
(Ack! That is all I can say about this episode.)
5) I was thinking all these things were signs of aging and/or early onset dementia but then
I read Agnes today and realized the same happens to the very young:
AGNES by Tony Cochran
Have a great weekend, everyone!
May you create wonderful memories that stay with you forever and ever.
Wordless Wednesday: The Toe Edition
© Tracy Abell 2011
Missing Mr. Vonnegut
"Hello babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter.
It’s round and wet and crowded. On the outside, babies, you’ve got a hundred years here.
There’s only one rule that I know of, babies-"God damn it, you’ve got to be kind."
— Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. (God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater)
image from morguefiles.com
Priorities
AGNES by Tony Cochran
So is your spirit soaring through the sky right now?
Or are you wiping powdered sugar from your face?
Friday Five: The Street Running Edition
1) The sun is shining and the sky is blue, blue, blue
but as a result of the excessive number of thunderstorms and downpours this week
2) the trails are too wet and messy for running which makes me sad, sad, sad
so I ran back and forth on the gravel portion just to get my bunny, meadowlark, wildflower fix
3) before heading back onto the neighborhood streets where I ran, ran, ran
up and down streets past parked cars and moving cars and boring old suburban houses
4) checking my watch every few minutes because I needed to run, run, run
for forty minutes before I’d let myself stop for the day
5) and by the time I reached my goal I remembered street running isn’t all that bad, bad, bad
because there aren’t any rocks or knapweed or holes to trip you up.
Still.
I’m hoping the trails dry out soon so I can get back out there where my heart sings, sings, sings.
Wishing everyone a joyful weekend!
Adele and Her Fan Base
I’m not one to embrace what’s hot-hot-hot,
but do admit to loving Adele’s music.
And if I’m to believe what I’ve read in various places
I’m the typical fan.
Which is to say, I’m female.
Probably older than the average female fan but, still. Female.
Conventional wisdom says Adele’s fan-base is nearly 100% women.
This afternoon I chauffeured three fifteen-year-old boys
who were playing various rap songs from their iPods on the car stereo.
I’ve had Adele’s 21 in my car for the past couple months and
jokingly whispered to Zebu, "Guess this means no Adele, huh?"
Moments later, "Rolling in the Deep" was playing (from one of the boy’s iPod!)
and the boys were singing along.
Not only did they sing that song, one of the boys announced that his favorite Adele song is
"Someone Like You," arguably the most heart-wrenching song on an album filled with heartbreak.
We preceded to listen to that song, too,
and there was some discussion of the lyrics’ meaning.
Meaningful discussion.
Lest I get too carried away with all this, I should remember that after getting out of the car
they most likely passed gas then made jokes about erections and/or breasts.
Today’s Word: Soggy
Someone left the phone book out in the rain . . .
image from morguefiles.com
Yo.
Enough with the rain, already!
Solace in Bloom
Wildebeest Scores!
Aside from babysitting neighbor kids in our tiny rural Wisconsin community,
my first paying job was at the nearby canning factory.
I was a Visual Inspector.
Sounds fancy, doesn’t it?
From 6pm – 2am,
I stood alongside a moving conveyor belt
that was covered with peas.
Wielding a long suction hose to remove undesirables:
pebbles,
clumps of weeds,
little green pea-sized berries that were "poisonous."
that was covered with peas.
Wielding a long suction hose to remove undesirables:
pebbles,
clumps of weeds,
little green pea-sized berries that were "poisonous."
Sometimes I sucked up bits of frog.
I also worked the corn pack which was slightly less monotonous
because I was the break person who relieved other workers.
Sometimes I worked at the roller belts carrying the ears of corn
where I grabbed the ones with rotted ends and inserted them into a grinder
before throwing the newly spruced-up ear back onto the belt.
And sometimes I used a big paddle to shove ears of corn onto the
sorting belts.
Before you get all envious, please know that corn splatter isn’t great for the complexion.
I just got home from dropping Wildebeest off at his new job.
His very first job.
His very first job.
He’s an actor at Casa Bonita.
Saturday was his first day of training
in which he learned to fire the guns
and sword fight.
He has lines to memorize.
He gets to chase a gorilla with a big net.
Someday he might be a cliff diver.
The kid’s happy.
And his skin looks great.
George Carlin – The American Dream
I had a crazy day yesterday in which I unloaded lumber in a driving rain storm,
was temporarily trapped in the mountains because of a flooded-out road,
and then while driving home received a call from the neighbors saying our dogs had escaped and were roaming free.
After the final hour and a half drive in a constant downpour, we got home at about 11:30 last night.
That was the end of the day’s bad news, right?
Wrong.
Obama wants cuts to Medicare and Social Security.
I’ve been paying attention and knew that’s what he wanted, but hoped cooler/kinder heads would prevail.
Here’s George Carlin from 2005, explaining in his uniquely profane way (warning!) why this is happening:
If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.
Have a good weekend, everyone.
Don’t forget to laugh.
Visualize, and It Will Come (Clean)
Way back in 2007 I posted photos of my newly cleaned refrigerator.
I swear I’ve cleaned it several times since then, but am way overdue for another decontamination.
I swear I’ve cleaned it several times since then, but am way overdue for another decontamination.
Oddly enough, I can’t summon the energy to get started.
So for now, I’m basking in the memory of what once was.
Who knows?
If I think long and hard enough, my acute mental faculties just might loosen the grime and debris within.
I bet that cute Mentalist guy could do it.
Defining Friendship
AGNES by Tony Cochran
Sometimes we need to establish boundaries so that our friendships may continue.
That said, I’m confident my friends here in LJ-Land who are all exceedingly supportive (tolerant?)
of my bird mania would varnish my nose if I asked nicely.
Isn’t that right, friends?
Hellooooo? Anyone out there?
The Bird-Bar Connection
What does this remind you of?
© Tracy Abell 2011
Being in one of those bars where you drop the peanut shells on the floor, right?
All this finch needs is a bottle of beer and some twangy, heartbreak song on the jukebox.
Clematis Monday
Here’s what’s growing on around here (get it? “growing on”?)
I crack me up.
This is the largest profusion of clematis blooms ever seen on this patio,
due to the sad demise of the neighbors’ crab apple tree which hung over this corner of the patio until the tree was mortally injured in an ice storm.
This clematis plant is also blooming more than usual due to Coco not barking through the fence at the neighbors’ dogs quite as much this year.
Less barking = less trampling.
Good dog, Coco!
The next clematis isn’t blooming any more than usual, but it is alive. We feared the closest plant to it had mysteriously died this winter (along with the vinca plants)
but has recently greened up so maybe we’re witnessing a rebirth.
Well, friends, thank you for touring my patio with me.
If you care to join me, I’ll be out there in a bit with my morning coffee.
Dude Looks Like He’s Crazy
Good thing I don’t want to look like this guy:
image from morguefiles.com
Because I just finished hammer curling 12 pounds with each arm,
and according to my not-always-stellar math calculations,
this dude’s curling 65 pounds. Each. Arm.
Whoa.
