Happy New Year

Here's to new beginnings and hope for a happy 2009. To get things started, I learned on Christmas Eve that there is another grandbaby on the way. This time it is my younger sister's daughter who got married in November 2007 and is expecting her first in early August. Guess I'll be traveling east this summer...

Cold enough to annoy sparrows

We had a high of zero the other day. I love weather. I love the adventure inherent in booger freezing face numbing cold. I think going out when it's 4 degrees and working up a sweat is a good idea.

The sparrows are the arbiters of avian popular opinion. First the sparrows come and if they congregate other birds will make an appearance. I was talking with John Swinton, or emailing him, and he pointed this out. This day the sparrows were definitely pissed off. They puffed their feathers and pulled in their necks, tried to double-tuck their wings down over their legs. They hung on tight with their desperately chilly toes and cursed the day their ancestors decided that Iowa winters were survivable. But, hell, a sparrow's gotta eat.

I tried to get a picture of the poor things trying to land on a moving birdfeeder with snow blowing around them, but I'm just not that good. It's hard work not freezing to death and they'd land and grab and blow off, nearly dislocating their little beaks as they slammed them against the feeder. Nothing graceful about it.









Normally these guys scatter if they see us in the window, but it was sheltered in the bush right next to the house and so the sparrows compromised for the most part. There they were, right outside the window glass from the dog, and they knew it. "Hell with it. Kill us. It's warmer over here."

We have booger stains all over the front window, just at Tye's nose level. Tye the ornithologist.



It was a good morning drinking coffee and watching bird antics with the dog. I just finished Close Range by Annie Proulx. It contains Brokeback Mountain and a number of other astoundingly beautiful stories, achingly sad. So I read and watched birds and thought about contrast, much like Else in her comment on my last post. Glad I'm not a sparrow.

God's eye on on him, but it looks like a cold job, thankless, and with little room for advancement.

That father ranting about a last minute Christmas visit with his institutionalized child knows he lost it somewhere. His kid's in someone else's care and he's left looking for some righteous ground to stand on. He'll bond with his kid against "staff" and prove to his kid that he can't give structure. Once again he'll confirm what his kid already knows. There's no safety this Christmas, either.

Sitting in my warm room, my toes scrunching soft Persian carpet, drinking dark java, I listen to my son talking to his friend over his XBox Live. Santiago is back in Medellin Colombia having Christmas with his mother's family. He and his cousin in Medellin log on and they all play zombie killing games together, bilingually, and gossip about their friends.

When I get lonesome, and I can't sleep I count my blessings instead of sheep and I fall asleep counting my blessings. Merry Christmas.

Crazy 'bout my Mercury

Housekeeping:

1. Happy Birthday Nancy! I don't expect anyone to completely fulfil the dp date reminder role. We were all busy doing other things and did not learn this skill, or at least I didn't. Carry on and we'll wish anyone a happy anything whenever we remember.

2. My blog instructions these days are in Spanish. I can mangle the language well enough that I'm not paralyzed, but I also don't recall doing anything to make this happen, so if you know where the language toggle is, please let me "apprender."

Robyn's Aunt Pauline and Uncle Jack bought this 1964 Mercury Montclair new. They always called it "the Merc." J.D., the most doting nephew, got it when Pauline passed away at past 90. She was fond of suggesting people "kiss my rosy red you-know-what." A good, strong, enduring character of great worth. J.D. fixed it up some and has left it at LeRoy's (his Dad's) next to the old Dodge truck LeRoy brought back from Nebraska because he couldn't bear to let it go. He'd always loved that truck. There they sit, out on LeRoy's property, tribute to automotive sentimentality (with which I totally sympathize).

As you may know already, I have found that taking my camera and ducking out of the house is a great way to absent myself from holiday banality, and this Thanksgiving was no exception. Yesterday I did some fussing and editing and discovered that I have some cool automotive concoctions here. So here you go, on this morning in Iowa, 8 degrees below zero, with a wind chill colder than Sarah Palin's heart.

OK. I'll start.......

Happy Holidays to all!
May the new year bring all that we hope for and more.
Tag, your it!

Happy Birthday Nancy!

I'm a day late, I think. dp was the person in charge of remembering this stuff, but I believe Nancy's birthday was yesterday.

The pie looks good. I may have to buy myself something similar...

Birthday Reflections

I'm a little late, but I feel like I need to do a thanks giving post.

Last year, of course, Thanksgiving was not a good holiday. I was basically waiting for surgeons to get back from their holidays to give dp some relief from the Horrible Awful Vertigo. I don't remember taking any time to be thankful for anything.

This year, I have much to be thankful for. I guess I've always felt blessed to belong to the particular family I do, but while this past year has seen us all battered and bruised, the love and support never waned.

I've got more and better friends than I deserve, and they too showed time and time again that they were there for me when the chips were down.

I feel a lot older than I did a year ago, maybe not much smarter, but probably a bit wiser. I've dealt with some serious challenges, but always with the very real and very helpful certainty that I was loved and accepted, at least by some people.

If you're reading this, you're one of the people for whom I am thankful.

My Turkey Day this year was much more normal. We went up to Colleen and Doug's place in Stoughton, and I introduced Yvonne to just about the whole famn damily. Twenty-five the first day, six more the next, with only four more to go. We ate, we partied, we bowled, and we ate some more. Nobody got to spend a lot of time together, but the early returns seem to be that everyone thinks everyone was very nice. We spent the weekend recuperating in da Woods. All in all, a very fine holiday.

Okay, birthday's over. Everybody back on your heads.

Happy Birthday Kevin

I hope you have a great day!

Okay, Else, by popular demand. . . Thanksgiving Redux

I'm collecting pictures of signs I like, so here's my first. The Lincoln Highway, for the uninitiated, was the first transcontinental road. It started out pretty rough and eventually was paved from coast to coast.

To really appreciate our Thanksgiving, you have to understand the context. First, Robyn has just been having a rough patch. Her folks are getting old and are showing it for the first time. There's the deal with JD, her brother, and his "lost love" (see Serial Monogamy blog in the archive), and to make matters worse we were going to leave to visit friends in Wisconsin and Robyn and her pal had a falling out and were starting to mend and so basically Robyn was so uptight that you could bounce quarters off her. The kids managed to schedule themselves for work. Damn!

When we got there, early, LeRoy was cleaning and we helped, which was really kind of fun and more meaningful than any ensuing conversation probably would have been, except about that time, JD brought up a subject that bugs Robyn about me (this I will censor for propriety's sake, and in case I run for office), and poor Robyn went off about it, right in front of JD and the girlfriend we're not supposed to like or something. (She's okay, really, except for having 27 cats and a handshake that involves some of the strangest body language I've ever seen.)

JD is familiar with all my foibles after all this time and he's looking at me like "who shot a rocket up her ass?" as I remind her that she has the upper hand here, since I'm not going to even have this conversation right now. Robyn calms down and then JD and I go off and have the first real conversation we've had in about two years, which constituted him apologizing over and over for unleashing his sister on me. (She was already pretty embarrassed by her outburst and this point, and while I'd have been pissed if she'd continued, I mostly needed to just let her settle, because he discomfort at this point was far worse than mine.)

So then LeRoy came up and we worked on getting the meal out. The centerpiece was a wild turkey that LeRoy killed with his new 370 pound, brand new, state of the art thermonuclear cross bow that has to have a special target because the arrows go right through a traditional target (set up so the misses go right into the neighbor's yard?). He must have really been attached to the bird, as it was mummified. Thoroughly dessicated, this bird. Think hush-puppies with a little of that "wild taste" everybody loves. We poured the juice back over it and the juice disappeared. Slurp.

We had a minimum of the usual characters, but my step in laws provided color. Mom hovers and coaches her teens through meal choices, how to sit, where to sit, not to get things dirty, et cetera. My kids avoid these kids by climing the tall pine trees in the yard, knowing the step cousins' Mom would not allow them to climb. Sap, y'know. Robyn commented to her step-sister that her 8th grade daughter could probably handle food choices today. She again rose in my esteem. Can't keep a good woman down.

The ride to Wisconsin was quiet as I pointedly did not scold my wife for yelling at me at the family event. She got together with her friend and it was okay. Work to do, but okay. It's a two way street this friendship thing and it's hard to figure out this conflict deal.

Other scores: Mom stayed sober (fake wine!), as did I (mostly), and since I'm basically having a great life, I think I'll make it on through the next Holiday, whatever the hell that is.

Peace and Obamalama! S.