spiritual laundry

Hey happy new year to you all! I did my blogging at the Laundromat today. Just a cross reference here.

Kevin Crawley's pants are full.

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.