Compliment? NOT
I backtracked the CD of the book I'm listening to because my mind wandered, so there I was back at the description of the aging rock star. Turns out he has an aquiline nose. I'd never heard of that before, but it turns out that means a hook nose, like the beak of an eagle. The hooknose snake has an aquiline nose. So why would this rock star have to have an aquiline nose? Last night he told his former girlfriend not to "paint me with the brushes of your sins." Did the author make that up, or is it something else I'm woefully ignorant of? Boy am I ever learning from this book The main character is named Blue because her mother was depressed after giving birth to her. I actually like the name Blue but I'd spell it Blu. It's a good dog name. I haven't forgotten Pingo, though.
It's Friday and I'm feeling pretty perky. My nice new friend/neighbor dragged my driveway yesterday, just to be nice. He had to rake the road where his crew messed it up so he went up my driveway while he was at it. This gets out the ruts and makes it relatively smooth until the mud dries out. Provided you don't drive on it for a couple of weeks. I'm showing amazing restraint so far. I need to get to the dump sometime soon, though, so some morning, early, while the top of the ground is still frozen I'd like to drive my car to the house & fill it up with garbage, newspapers, magazines & recyclables. Or I suppose I could carry these things down a bit at a time. No, not my style.
Still working on the Town stuff, the development at the foot of the lake. Big political doings, nasty stuff going on. The shoreowners' group is getting involved, and since I live here I'm the frontperson for some of this. I asked Jamie to write a letter of support for the Planning Board (emailed it) and he was really good, then he called me last night to tell me some more stuff. Fan me with a brick. Of course, he loves to/needs to be an expert on things, so this was a perfect conversation. I needed something he had. It worked out fine and now apparently we're on speaking terms again. Let's see if we can keep Wife II out of it.
Supposed to be 40 and sunny tomorrow. An actual spring day. There's not much you can do outside, ground still pretty much covered with snow. I might (slim chance) move some wood. But...no, not really.
Friday, March 30, 2007
TEDDY!
This is how Teddy spent the winter in the garden. This is a cute little bear that Tess brought home one day. I don't know if she took it away from a little person or if a little person gave it to her. She likes Teddy, but not enough to make sure Teddy is in for the winter. Teddy was buried under a few feet of snow but seems to have survived.
High flyer
This is how you help Teddy celebrate spring. Run around the yard really, really fast like a racehorse (I was lucky to get her in the picture at all), carrying Teddy in your mouth. YAY! Teddy is free! Lucky Teddy! Lucky Tess, she's got Teddy!
Smash nose
Then you take Teddy's face and rub it in the snow really, really hard while you hold him by the back of the neck. I ask you, is this nice?
It's there!
This is what bare ground looks like. Except for my gardens and driveway, where the soil is warmer, this is the biggest patch around my house.
This is all that's left of the huge pile of snow that was on my deck. You can't imagine how happy-thrilled I was last night to see this. The snow was thigh-deep and the dogs had made a little piazza of packed-down snow from which they viewed the world. It seemed to be taking forever to melt. The little path I shoveled melted first so at least I've been looking at bare boards for 10 days or so. Soon, maybe, I can sit in the sun on my deck and read. Hold on, girl, let's not get carried away.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Water at last
Lake Champlain and Vermont from Rouses Point. That's what the ice looks like as it's finally going out. It was really nice to see the blue of open water when I was there yesterday.
My final trip there, I finished weeding the fiction. When I got to the last book, at the end of the Z's, I said enthusiastically, "That's it! I'm done." Poor Mary Ann, who is very lonely there because she's been so mean for the past 40 years that no one uses her library, was very sad that I had finished. I wasn't--I'm glad I don't have to go there anymore. I've touched every single book in their adult collection, except for the coffee table and large print books, she decided she could do those herself. I don't know how many thousands of books that was, maybe 5,000? A lot, anyway.
My final trip there, I finished weeding the fiction. When I got to the last book, at the end of the Z's, I said enthusiastically, "That's it! I'm done." Poor Mary Ann, who is very lonely there because she's been so mean for the past 40 years that no one uses her library, was very sad that I had finished. I wasn't--I'm glad I don't have to go there anymore. I've touched every single book in their adult collection, except for the coffee table and large print books, she decided she could do those herself. I don't know how many thousands of books that was, maybe 5,000? A lot, anyway.
S'no geese
Not a good picture, but the dots in the sky are snow geese. There was a huge, huge flock flying to open water. It was just amazing to see. They have black tips on their wings, so it flashes when they fly, but the white of their bodies reflects the sun and they sparkle like diamonds in the sky. Diamonds on the soles of their shoes, thank you Paul Simon. When I saw them I wanted to shout out the car window "Welcome Back!"
Rouses Pt
And this is the Rouses Point library. There's not this much snow anymore--I took this picture last month. I'm outta there.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
High drama
I'm listening to a fairly shallow book, contemporary women't fiction of course. Susan Elizabeth Phillips, pretty standard fair. If it were rock music it would be, oh let's say Genesis at best. So anyway, the character is described as having an "equiline nose" (is equiline even a word?), a "knife-sharp jaw," his voice is like "whiskey-soaked gravel," and his cheeks are gaunt (always have to get gaunt into any facial description). So I think, if you write anything for publication, do you have to have descriptors like that? Or is it just fiction that requires these adjectives? Or is it bad fiction? Romances?
What's happening in the plot right now is that the mega-rock star has come to pick up his daughter, who has run away because he's never home and she has a nanny who neglects her. The rock star is the idol of the leading woman character, she's worshipped him since childhood. This leads me to wonder what rock star this could possibly be for me. I run through some.
In childhood I went absolutely wild for the Beach Boys. I wanted to be a surfer girl (unattainable for a girl in northern Illinois, but then I always wanted the unattainable). My favorite was Dennis Wilson, who turned out to be a raging, suicidal alcoholic who finally drowned in an alcoholic haze. I saw the Beach Boys in concert (would there be another way to see them? In the grocery store? Trying on shirts?) in Providence just before Brian Wilson parked himself in a sandbox in his living room. It was very exciting for me at 25.
OK, not the Beach Boys. Eric Clapton? I saw him at the Gatway airport once, started following him, which made him walk faster and duck into a Special People Only lounge. No, I didn't start worshipping him until I was in my 20's. Jackson Browne? No, it's really his hair I'm drawn to. I've seen him live about 4 times and he is cute, but he had all those really depressing songs when his first wife (of three) killed herself. Again, didn't find him until college. It finally came to me in a flash, and boy was I embarrassed it took so long. Paul McCartney of course! In his pre-Heather Mills state, of course.
I was introduced to the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan show when I must have been about 10. Though I thought they were pretty cute, and their music was neat, my sister was the one who thought they were really exciting. We bought all these Beatles magazines and poured over them. We went to see A Hard Day's Night, and later Help! We knew all the words to their songs, which we listened to on 45's, with the Capitol Records labels. We were consumed. And they were magnificent. Molly's favorite was George Harrison then. The deep and sensitive one. My favorite? Paul, the shallow, cute and fun one. John was the clown and Ringo was the no-talent, unattractive joke.
Paul was still wonderful when he released his first solo album, with the photo of him holding his infant enfolded in his jacket on the cover. John had nothing but contempt for this album and for Paul's solo efforts in general (a famous quote among Molly, Liza and me is "But who's he got to tell him if it's any good? Linda!"). I suppose we all have our Yokos, though, and Paul was so happy and Linda was pretty cool so to me all was forgiven. Their life together was blissful and they were beautiful, had horses and cute children.
After reviewing all this I felt much better, now I have my rock star and I can get to work.
I'm listening to a fairly shallow book, contemporary women't fiction of course. Susan Elizabeth Phillips, pretty standard fair. If it were rock music it would be, oh let's say Genesis at best. So anyway, the character is described as having an "equiline nose" (is equiline even a word?), a "knife-sharp jaw," his voice is like "whiskey-soaked gravel," and his cheeks are gaunt (always have to get gaunt into any facial description). So I think, if you write anything for publication, do you have to have descriptors like that? Or is it just fiction that requires these adjectives? Or is it bad fiction? Romances?
What's happening in the plot right now is that the mega-rock star has come to pick up his daughter, who has run away because he's never home and she has a nanny who neglects her. The rock star is the idol of the leading woman character, she's worshipped him since childhood. This leads me to wonder what rock star this could possibly be for me. I run through some.
In childhood I went absolutely wild for the Beach Boys. I wanted to be a surfer girl (unattainable for a girl in northern Illinois, but then I always wanted the unattainable). My favorite was Dennis Wilson, who turned out to be a raging, suicidal alcoholic who finally drowned in an alcoholic haze. I saw the Beach Boys in concert (would there be another way to see them? In the grocery store? Trying on shirts?) in Providence just before Brian Wilson parked himself in a sandbox in his living room. It was very exciting for me at 25.
OK, not the Beach Boys. Eric Clapton? I saw him at the Gatway airport once, started following him, which made him walk faster and duck into a Special People Only lounge. No, I didn't start worshipping him until I was in my 20's. Jackson Browne? No, it's really his hair I'm drawn to. I've seen him live about 4 times and he is cute, but he had all those really depressing songs when his first wife (of three) killed herself. Again, didn't find him until college. It finally came to me in a flash, and boy was I embarrassed it took so long. Paul McCartney of course! In his pre-Heather Mills state, of course.
I was introduced to the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan show when I must have been about 10. Though I thought they were pretty cute, and their music was neat, my sister was the one who thought they were really exciting. We bought all these Beatles magazines and poured over them. We went to see A Hard Day's Night, and later Help! We knew all the words to their songs, which we listened to on 45's, with the Capitol Records labels. We were consumed. And they were magnificent. Molly's favorite was George Harrison then. The deep and sensitive one. My favorite? Paul, the shallow, cute and fun one. John was the clown and Ringo was the no-talent, unattractive joke.
Paul was still wonderful when he released his first solo album, with the photo of him holding his infant enfolded in his jacket on the cover. John had nothing but contempt for this album and for Paul's solo efforts in general (a famous quote among Molly, Liza and me is "But who's he got to tell him if it's any good? Linda!"). I suppose we all have our Yokos, though, and Paul was so happy and Linda was pretty cool so to me all was forgiven. Their life together was blissful and they were beautiful, had horses and cute children.
After reviewing all this I felt much better, now I have my rock star and I can get to work.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Icy shoreline
This is the AuSable River on my way home from Book Group on Sunday evening. I'm guessing the ice went out last week or so. Those are huge, incredibly heavy and thick chunks of ice left behind when the solid river of ice moved on out. There are still portions of the Saranac that are frozen, but that ice is dark and thin so won't make much of a fuss but will slowly melt in the warm weather.
On the rocks
This is what the shore looks like close up. It's really cool how the ice moves along really fast and pushes big chunks up the shore. These will be in evidence for a while, shrinking but still there.
Chunky
There's nothing for perspective here, but the chunks are about a foot thick. The rivers are flowing fast and furious these days. When I got my coffee this morning the Saranac was really, really loud. A strange sound.
We had a thunder storm last night. It rained so hard I couldn't hear the movie I was watching (appropriately, The Weatherman, with Nicholas Cage, sporting a very flattering haircut). The dogs barked at the rain pounding on my metal roof. Thunder and lightning, yes, I remember that. Still have lots of snow, but we're making progress. I'm sure there's bare ground under there.
We had a thunder storm last night. It rained so hard I couldn't hear the movie I was watching (appropriately, The Weatherman, with Nicholas Cage, sporting a very flattering haircut). The dogs barked at the rain pounding on my metal roof. Thunder and lightning, yes, I remember that. Still have lots of snow, but we're making progress. I'm sure there's bare ground under there.
Monday, March 26, 2007
I'm a-comin' Mr. Dillon
That's what Marsall Dillon's sidekick Chester used to say on Gunsmoke (which used to be the longest running television program ever)
Thanks to Martha for pointing this one out--
Seiden, Isabelle V.
PLATTSBURGH — Watch out heaven, a new angel is in town. Let's Party! Isabelle Seiden (Izzy) passed away quietly during the early morning hours on March 8, 2007, after raising hell for 82 years.She was born on July 1, 1924, in Montreal, Quebec, to Stanislaus and Hazel Tremblay. She graduated from business college and worked for Singer Sewing Machine Company in Montreal as head of payroll until she married John W. Seiden in 1953. She became a U.S. citizen in 1957, after settling in Plattsburgh. The remainder of her working career was spent tending bar in most of Plattsburgh's hot spots. She was a very strong personality and, being bilingual, she could handle herself in any situation.Three weeks ago, she lost Big John, her husband and road dog. She is survived by her son, John S. Seiden and companion Soraya Richardson of Plattsburgh; her daughter, Hazel Seiden Miller and son-in-law Andrais Miller of California; daughter-in-law Bucky Seiden and fiancé Roderick Driscoll of Plattsburgh; and three grandchildren, Jonathan and Nicholas Seiden and Isabella Miller.Izzy had a lifelong passion for the Montreal Canadian hockey team; as a matter of fact, as a young woman she wouldn't even date anyone unless they had season tickets. She loved knitting and making socks and hats for her family and for many years she knitted hats and mittens for hundreds of children in the community. She enjoyed many hours in her backyard and on her back porch feeding her squirrels and birds. Izzy loved her pull tabs but Lady Luck was not always on her side. As her memory began to fade, we frequently had to go find her because it was common to find that she had driven her car to Geoffrey's Pub or Mickey's to have a vodka with her friends (without plates, license, registration or insurance and unbelievably, she never got caught!)One of her greatest joys was her grandchildren. She was a wonderful grandmother and loved to spend time with her Jonny Joe, Nickadoo and Bella (her namesake). When "Nan" baby-sat you could always expect to come home to a total disaster. Blanket tents (using all the sheets, blankets and chairs in the house) were the favorite with books, toys, cookie crumbs and empty juice boxes everywhere. But it didn't matter because you always knew that the kids and Nan had a blast together. In fact, there were many times when the kids would ask us to go back out so they could play longer with their Nan.Her spontaneous love of life and good nature lives on in all of us. The family finds solace in knowing that she is back on the road again riding shotgun with Big John at the wheel cruising the heavens.Chers amis: Telle est la vie. Telle est sa fin. Ce n, est qu un au revoir!
That's what Marsall Dillon's sidekick Chester used to say on Gunsmoke (which used to be the longest running television program ever)
Thanks to Martha for pointing this one out--
Seiden, Isabelle V.
PLATTSBURGH — Watch out heaven, a new angel is in town. Let's Party! Isabelle Seiden (Izzy) passed away quietly during the early morning hours on March 8, 2007, after raising hell for 82 years.She was born on July 1, 1924, in Montreal, Quebec, to Stanislaus and Hazel Tremblay. She graduated from business college and worked for Singer Sewing Machine Company in Montreal as head of payroll until she married John W. Seiden in 1953. She became a U.S. citizen in 1957, after settling in Plattsburgh. The remainder of her working career was spent tending bar in most of Plattsburgh's hot spots. She was a very strong personality and, being bilingual, she could handle herself in any situation.Three weeks ago, she lost Big John, her husband and road dog. She is survived by her son, John S. Seiden and companion Soraya Richardson of Plattsburgh; her daughter, Hazel Seiden Miller and son-in-law Andrais Miller of California; daughter-in-law Bucky Seiden and fiancé Roderick Driscoll of Plattsburgh; and three grandchildren, Jonathan and Nicholas Seiden and Isabella Miller.Izzy had a lifelong passion for the Montreal Canadian hockey team; as a matter of fact, as a young woman she wouldn't even date anyone unless they had season tickets. She loved knitting and making socks and hats for her family and for many years she knitted hats and mittens for hundreds of children in the community. She enjoyed many hours in her backyard and on her back porch feeding her squirrels and birds. Izzy loved her pull tabs but Lady Luck was not always on her side. As her memory began to fade, we frequently had to go find her because it was common to find that she had driven her car to Geoffrey's Pub or Mickey's to have a vodka with her friends (without plates, license, registration or insurance and unbelievably, she never got caught!)One of her greatest joys was her grandchildren. She was a wonderful grandmother and loved to spend time with her Jonny Joe, Nickadoo and Bella (her namesake). When "Nan" baby-sat you could always expect to come home to a total disaster. Blanket tents (using all the sheets, blankets and chairs in the house) were the favorite with books, toys, cookie crumbs and empty juice boxes everywhere. But it didn't matter because you always knew that the kids and Nan had a blast together. In fact, there were many times when the kids would ask us to go back out so they could play longer with their Nan.Her spontaneous love of life and good nature lives on in all of us. The family finds solace in knowing that she is back on the road again riding shotgun with Big John at the wheel cruising the heavens.Chers amis: Telle est la vie. Telle est sa fin. Ce n, est qu un au revoir!
Friday, March 23, 2007
Spring melt
This is what I see on the Silver Lake Road, about 5 miles from my house. That's the back of Silver Lake Mountain on the right. You can really tell it's early spring, there's a hint of red in the trees (or maybe I'm optimistically imagining that) and there's way little snow on the ground. At my house it's very different. We lost about 2 feet of snow this week but the snow still comes to about mid-calf. We're getting there, but there are huge piles where the plows have pushed the snow. This time of year it seems as if those piles will be there forever. The only bare ground is in the driveway and that's rapidly turning to mud, which means I'll be parking at the end of the driveway and walking through boot-sucking mud to the house. This can last for a long time, depending on the weather. Most years I'm impatient and end up with deep ruts in my driveway--or worse, like last year when my car sunk up to the axles and I had to call AAA to have it yanked out with a tow-trucks winch. That was very impressive.
The other day I followed a snow plow along this road--hard to believe they were plowing less than a week ago. It was making a little shelf along the side of the road. That reminded me of a story my mother told me about going to the 1939 World's Fair in New York City (Flushing, to be exact). She said she would take the train and subway there by herself--she was 13 then, and she would take her lunch in a paper bag. There was a shelf in a tunnel the train passed by and once the train stopped there and she had this huge urge to put her lunch on that shelf through the open window. I could relate to that story, as I'm sure we all can. I used to have this really strong urge to drop my keys down the strom drain in the parking lot here at work. I'd look down the grate as I'd walk to my car and imagine what it would be like if I did that. Then I'd think of my mother and chuckle.
This time when I thought of my mother and that shelf I thought of the trip we took to the 1963 World's Fair, again in Flushing. My mother bravely drove us from Illinois to her parents' home in NJ and we went to the World's Fair, all three children plus my brother's friend Greg Nelson. I had a huge crush on him, but I was 10. Anyway, there were all these pavillions and kiosks. This was the premiere of Disney's "It's a Small World" exhibit and you rode through the darkened pavillion where there were animated characters. Animated characters were a big deal then.
There was a Turk who had a kiosk and sold Turkish puzzle rings. Molly and I were enthralled. It wasn't that long prior to that that we had lived in Turkey, and we loved playing with and putting together Turkish puzzle rings. He liked us (there was that attraction to blue-eyed, blonde American girls) and we kept going back to his kiosk to play with his rings. Finally he gave me (and Molly?) a ring. It was a man's ring, huge, and I could never wear it but I kept it in my drawer for years. I'd take it out look at it many, many times.
We were really excited about going to the World's Fair and as I remember it, we had a great time. Liza and I talked about it recently, and neither one of us had very clear memories of it, which I thought was too bad. In 1967 I got to go to Expo 67, another World's Fair, in Montreal. Pretty cool.
The other day I followed a snow plow along this road--hard to believe they were plowing less than a week ago. It was making a little shelf along the side of the road. That reminded me of a story my mother told me about going to the 1939 World's Fair in New York City (Flushing, to be exact). She said she would take the train and subway there by herself--she was 13 then, and she would take her lunch in a paper bag. There was a shelf in a tunnel the train passed by and once the train stopped there and she had this huge urge to put her lunch on that shelf through the open window. I could relate to that story, as I'm sure we all can. I used to have this really strong urge to drop my keys down the strom drain in the parking lot here at work. I'd look down the grate as I'd walk to my car and imagine what it would be like if I did that. Then I'd think of my mother and chuckle.
This time when I thought of my mother and that shelf I thought of the trip we took to the 1963 World's Fair, again in Flushing. My mother bravely drove us from Illinois to her parents' home in NJ and we went to the World's Fair, all three children plus my brother's friend Greg Nelson. I had a huge crush on him, but I was 10. Anyway, there were all these pavillions and kiosks. This was the premiere of Disney's "It's a Small World" exhibit and you rode through the darkened pavillion where there were animated characters. Animated characters were a big deal then.
There was a Turk who had a kiosk and sold Turkish puzzle rings. Molly and I were enthralled. It wasn't that long prior to that that we had lived in Turkey, and we loved playing with and putting together Turkish puzzle rings. He liked us (there was that attraction to blue-eyed, blonde American girls) and we kept going back to his kiosk to play with his rings. Finally he gave me (and Molly?) a ring. It was a man's ring, huge, and I could never wear it but I kept it in my drawer for years. I'd take it out look at it many, many times.
We were really excited about going to the World's Fair and as I remember it, we had a great time. Liza and I talked about it recently, and neither one of us had very clear memories of it, which I thought was too bad. In 1967 I got to go to Expo 67, another World's Fair, in Montreal. Pretty cool.
Tequila sunrise
This was the sunrise the other day. I'm not thrilled that I'm back to watching sunrises on my way to work, now that we've set our clocks ahead, but I try to enjoy beauty wherever it comes from. The extra hour of daylight does me little good: there's so much snow that I can't do anything outside, can't garden, can't really walk, can't even stack wood (yeah, right, as if I'd be doing that anyway). Am I saving my 1% of energy? I don't think so. Does that make me unpatriotic?
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
We told you so
The Justice Department's inspector general told a committee of angry House members yesterday that the FBI may have violated the law or government policies as many as 3,000 times since 2003 as agents secretly collected the telephone, bank and credit card records of U.S. citizens and foreign nationals residing here.
Inspector General Glenn A. Fine said that according to the FBI's own estimate, as many as 600 of these violations could be "cases of serious misconduct" involving the improper use of "national security letters" to compel telephone companies, banks and credit institutions to produce records.
The Justice Department\'s inspector general told a committee of angry House members yesterday that the FBI may have violated the law or government policies as many as 3,000 times since 2003 as agents secretly collected the telephone, bank and credit card records of U.S. citizens and foreign nationals.
National security letters are comparable to subpoenas but are issued directly by the bureau without court review. They largely target records of transactions rather than personal documents or conversations. An FBI tally showed that the bureau made an average of 916 such requests each week from 2003 to 2005, but Fine told the House Judiciary Committee that FBI recordkeeping has been chaotic and "significantly understates" the actual use of that tool
And this is exactly what the librarians said would happen. Oh, we forward-thinking paranoid librarians. Oh yeah, and what a surprise. I think Bush must have taken governing lessons from Nixon. There's probably a handbook on How to be President in one of the drawers of the desk in the Oval Office, written by Nixon and annotated by Cheney.
The Justice Department's inspector general told a committee of angry House members yesterday that the FBI may have violated the law or government policies as many as 3,000 times since 2003 as agents secretly collected the telephone, bank and credit card records of U.S. citizens and foreign nationals residing here.
Inspector General Glenn A. Fine said that according to the FBI's own estimate, as many as 600 of these violations could be "cases of serious misconduct" involving the improper use of "national security letters" to compel telephone companies, banks and credit institutions to produce records.
The Justice Department\'s inspector general told a committee of angry House members yesterday that the FBI may have violated the law or government policies as many as 3,000 times since 2003 as agents secretly collected the telephone, bank and credit card records of U.S. citizens and foreign nationals.
National security letters are comparable to subpoenas but are issued directly by the bureau without court review. They largely target records of transactions rather than personal documents or conversations. An FBI tally showed that the bureau made an average of 916 such requests each week from 2003 to 2005, but Fine told the House Judiciary Committee that FBI recordkeeping has been chaotic and "significantly understates" the actual use of that tool
And this is exactly what the librarians said would happen. Oh, we forward-thinking paranoid librarians. Oh yeah, and what a surprise. I think Bush must have taken governing lessons from Nixon. There's probably a handbook on How to be President in one of the drawers of the desk in the Oval Office, written by Nixon and annotated by Cheney.
Lie, or tell the truth? You be the judge.
President Bush sought yesterday to defuse the controversy over the firings of U.S. attorneys, offering strong support for embattled Attorney General Alberto R. Gonzales while proposing to make Karl Rove and other top aides available for private interviews with congressional investigators.
The White House, however, limited the kinds of questions the aides would answer and said the interviews may not be conducted under oath or transcribed. The conditions enraged congressional Democrats, who vowed to go ahead with plans to issue subpoenas as early as today that would compel the aides to testify
So in other words they can lie all they want, and they only have to answer the questions he wants them to. Yeah, that's fair, sure it is.
President Bush sought yesterday to defuse the controversy over the firings of U.S. attorneys, offering strong support for embattled Attorney General Alberto R. Gonzales while proposing to make Karl Rove and other top aides available for private interviews with congressional investigators.
The White House, however, limited the kinds of questions the aides would answer and said the interviews may not be conducted under oath or transcribed. The conditions enraged congressional Democrats, who vowed to go ahead with plans to issue subpoenas as early as today that would compel the aides to testify
So in other words they can lie all they want, and they only have to answer the questions he wants them to. Yeah, that's fair, sure it is.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Egermency everybody to get from street
In the movie The Russians are Coming The Russians Are Coming, which came out in the late 60's or early 70's, Alan Arkin (the captain of the Russian sub which had run aground by a small American seaside town) ran through the village yelling "Egermency! Egermency! Everybody to get from street!" in a heavy pretend Russian accent. It was the first time I saw Alan Arkin and I thought he was wonderful. The movie also starred the girl who did the Summer Blonde commercials. She never did anything else. I always think it's funny what lines we remember from books and movies, and as life progresses we have fewer and fewer people to share these memories with. I don't even remember who I saw this movie with, so when I say "Egermency!" no one laughs.
ANYWAY: this is a spring ritual--the posting of the roads. I'm not sure why they post the roads, but they post them on the 15th of March each year. I think it's because heavy trucks will drive the pavement into the ground as the frost goes out of it. What this has always meant in my past is that log trucks can't drive the back roads, and it signals the beginning of mud season, a bleak time for loggers.
They hate mud season because they can't get into the woods (the bush) to cut trees. The most determined (and desperate for income) sometimes try anyway with pretty bad results--heavy equipment stuck in the mud; deep, deep ruts in the earth; trees that can't be skidded out because of the mud. But loggers are a determined bunch and they always find a way. Doesn't matter how many other trees they damage in the process.
The first time I saw a sign like this I freaked out because of course I didn't read the fine print and I thought I couldn't get home.
ANYWAY: this is a spring ritual--the posting of the roads. I'm not sure why they post the roads, but they post them on the 15th of March each year. I think it's because heavy trucks will drive the pavement into the ground as the frost goes out of it. What this has always meant in my past is that log trucks can't drive the back roads, and it signals the beginning of mud season, a bleak time for loggers.
They hate mud season because they can't get into the woods (the bush) to cut trees. The most determined (and desperate for income) sometimes try anyway with pretty bad results--heavy equipment stuck in the mud; deep, deep ruts in the earth; trees that can't be skidded out because of the mud. But loggers are a determined bunch and they always find a way. Doesn't matter how many other trees they damage in the process.
The first time I saw a sign like this I freaked out because of course I didn't read the fine print and I thought I couldn't get home.
This is what you see a lot of on the back roads in early spring. Things like this mean DANGER! Watch out for frost heaves. Frost heaves happen when the ground beneath the pavement freezes and thaws repeatedly, causing bumps or dips that can send you airborne or make your car hit bottom. One year I had rock hard buildup ice and stuff on the frame of my car so I hit every frost heave I came upon as fast as I could, trying to knock off the stuff on my car. It worked for a couple of them but I had to wait until a good thaw for the others.
Here's an excerpt from Wikipedia:
In Arctic regions, frost heaving for hundreds of years can create structures, known as pingos, as high as 60 metres. Frost heaving is also responsible for creating stones in unique shapes such as circles, polygons and stripes. A notable example is the remarkably circular stones of the islands of Spitsbergen.
All I know is that we love frost heaves around here because that means that yes, spring is coming and the frost is starting to go out of the ground. Sometimes they are marked by big skinny sticks (like walking sticks) with orange flags tied to the ends. That makes me laugh: North Country high tech.
Doesn't Pingo sound like a good name for a pet?
Friday, March 16, 2007
ice jam
This is what the AuSable River looked like yesterday afternoon. That's the ice, in chunks and jammed against the banks.
ice at bridge
Those are chunks of ice, backed up to the bottom of the bridge that crosses the river in AuSable.
Jammin' in the Forks
I didn't take these pictures, I got them from the Readers' Gallery of the Plattsburgh paper. I wish I'd been in AuSable to see the ice jam, it's really incredible. Very loud and dramatic. Once the ice breaks up, it flies down the river really fast. No real damage in the Forks this year, just water in the basement of the local bar and some propane tanks floating down the river.
I didn't take these pictures, I got them from the Readers' Gallery of the Plattsburgh paper. I wish I'd been in AuSable to see the ice jam, it's really incredible. Very loud and dramatic. Once the ice breaks up, it flies down the river really fast. No real damage in the Forks this year, just water in the basement of the local bar and some propane tanks floating down the river.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Trail of tears
Walking up the stairs to Ken's deck last night, Tess on a leash (so she wouldn't take off), Chances running to her favorite spot under the bird feeder (to eat sunflower seed husks) I noticed a trail, perfectly lined up, of 7 red squirrel corpses and 1 dead blue jay. Good old Ken. He and I hate red squirrels and red squirrels love sunflower seed, so they frequent our bird feeders. They take up space and hog the food, and if they get in your attic, house, etc. they do a lot of damage. He's been battling them for years. One year he shot them, one by one. He and the neighbor shot a total of 30 squirrels over the winter. Then he decided the best thing to do was to trap them so someone gave him a small metal trap (SNAP! You're dead, unless just your leg gets stuck, then never mind what comes next). He sets the trap in the middle of his feeder. Sometimes catches a blue jay by the toes or feathers--from which they easily survive. Once caught a blue jay in the thorax, oops, dead. When he has a corpse he tosses it out on the snow, figuring the crows will take it away. Not so much this year. Each corpse gets buried with a fresh snowfall, but never have they all been exposed when the snow melts. Pardon my callous and gruesome sense of humor, but the sight of these squirrel corpses lined up, nose to tail in a little row, made me laugh out loud. You have to realize that Ken does things as if it were 1920 and he were living the life of subsistence farming. I'm just lucky he doesn't like the taste of squirrel.
It's been raining here but the low tonight is supposed to be 9. See? March is a cruel month. We're due a Nor'easter, which will last a couple of days at least, and is expected to dump some snow on us. I'm amused by the forecast for wind chill of -1. Why bother measuring wind chill if that's the best you can come up with?
I still have Hugo the Westie. His hearing seems to have miraculously returned, selectively. Little punk of a dog. He still tries to terrorize my dogs but they are wise to him now and ignore his snarls, especially since he's usually wagging his tail while he snarls. His morning routine is extensive and involves massages, scratching his head, rubbing his face on the bed and lots of grunting. All this before he will get off the bed. My dogs are up like a shot as soon as my breathing changes or I shift position. They can hear me turn off the alarm before it goes off. Difference is what makes life interesting, no?
Lunch with my friend Barb today. All of our favorite restaurants have closed so we're trying a new one. My life is so routine that this is an exciting prospect for me. I've already had a lot of social interaction this morning--when I got my coffee this morning the Late Crowd was hanging out at the store. There was Chipper Anderson (who runs the power plant at Union Falls and is decidedly not the brightest star in the sky) and Rick Parrotte, my plow man (who IS one of the brightest stars in the sky and has a beautiful beagle named Boomer). Nice chat with each of them. Shift gears and topics for each. Feel connected to the neighborhood and the universe. Nice to be recognized. Funny how much men respect me because I live alone where I do. Not a big deal to me, we all have to live somewhere.
On to Bartok, Beethoven, Mozart and lots of composers I've never heard of. Then about 75 board books. I'm so versatile, aren't I?
Walking up the stairs to Ken's deck last night, Tess on a leash (so she wouldn't take off), Chances running to her favorite spot under the bird feeder (to eat sunflower seed husks) I noticed a trail, perfectly lined up, of 7 red squirrel corpses and 1 dead blue jay. Good old Ken. He and I hate red squirrels and red squirrels love sunflower seed, so they frequent our bird feeders. They take up space and hog the food, and if they get in your attic, house, etc. they do a lot of damage. He's been battling them for years. One year he shot them, one by one. He and the neighbor shot a total of 30 squirrels over the winter. Then he decided the best thing to do was to trap them so someone gave him a small metal trap (SNAP! You're dead, unless just your leg gets stuck, then never mind what comes next). He sets the trap in the middle of his feeder. Sometimes catches a blue jay by the toes or feathers--from which they easily survive. Once caught a blue jay in the thorax, oops, dead. When he has a corpse he tosses it out on the snow, figuring the crows will take it away. Not so much this year. Each corpse gets buried with a fresh snowfall, but never have they all been exposed when the snow melts. Pardon my callous and gruesome sense of humor, but the sight of these squirrel corpses lined up, nose to tail in a little row, made me laugh out loud. You have to realize that Ken does things as if it were 1920 and he were living the life of subsistence farming. I'm just lucky he doesn't like the taste of squirrel.
It's been raining here but the low tonight is supposed to be 9. See? March is a cruel month. We're due a Nor'easter, which will last a couple of days at least, and is expected to dump some snow on us. I'm amused by the forecast for wind chill of -1. Why bother measuring wind chill if that's the best you can come up with?
I still have Hugo the Westie. His hearing seems to have miraculously returned, selectively. Little punk of a dog. He still tries to terrorize my dogs but they are wise to him now and ignore his snarls, especially since he's usually wagging his tail while he snarls. His morning routine is extensive and involves massages, scratching his head, rubbing his face on the bed and lots of grunting. All this before he will get off the bed. My dogs are up like a shot as soon as my breathing changes or I shift position. They can hear me turn off the alarm before it goes off. Difference is what makes life interesting, no?
Lunch with my friend Barb today. All of our favorite restaurants have closed so we're trying a new one. My life is so routine that this is an exciting prospect for me. I've already had a lot of social interaction this morning--when I got my coffee this morning the Late Crowd was hanging out at the store. There was Chipper Anderson (who runs the power plant at Union Falls and is decidedly not the brightest star in the sky) and Rick Parrotte, my plow man (who IS one of the brightest stars in the sky and has a beautiful beagle named Boomer). Nice chat with each of them. Shift gears and topics for each. Feel connected to the neighborhood and the universe. Nice to be recognized. Funny how much men respect me because I live alone where I do. Not a big deal to me, we all have to live somewhere.
On to Bartok, Beethoven, Mozart and lots of composers I've never heard of. Then about 75 board books. I'm so versatile, aren't I?
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
"I love America"--David Byrne
From Google News:
"Analog TVs will no longer receive a signal come Feb. 19, 2009, unless users update their hardware to receive a digital signal.
Federal officials announced details Monday about how that transition will work, saying the government will help consumers buy the necessary equipment to upgrade to digital -- a converter box that attaches to the TV set.
The Department of Commerce's National Telecommunications and Information Administration (NTIA) said it is setting aside $990 million to pay for the boxes. Each home can request up to two $40 coupons for a digital-to-analog converter box, which consumer electronics makers such as RCA and LG plan to produce. Prices for the box have not been determined, but industry and consumer groups have estimated they will run $50 to $75 each"
And we know the money couldn't be better spent somewhere else. Like, say getting health insurance for the millions of uninsured Americans. Or buying me another Lab, a nice yellow female puppy. Or a new car.
From Google News:
"Analog TVs will no longer receive a signal come Feb. 19, 2009, unless users update their hardware to receive a digital signal.
Federal officials announced details Monday about how that transition will work, saying the government will help consumers buy the necessary equipment to upgrade to digital -- a converter box that attaches to the TV set.
The Department of Commerce's National Telecommunications and Information Administration (NTIA) said it is setting aside $990 million to pay for the boxes. Each home can request up to two $40 coupons for a digital-to-analog converter box, which consumer electronics makers such as RCA and LG plan to produce. Prices for the box have not been determined, but industry and consumer groups have estimated they will run $50 to $75 each"
And we know the money couldn't be better spent somewhere else. Like, say getting health insurance for the millions of uninsured Americans. Or buying me another Lab, a nice yellow female puppy. Or a new car.
Monday, March 12, 2007
From drudgereport.com:
"Radar, the Belgian draft horse is a gentle giant.
He's also the world's tallest living horse and he made a huge impression on people who came to see him this week in Tulsa, Oklahoma.
Last year Radar made it into the Guinness Book of Records with an impressive height of 19 hands, 3 1/2 inches tall, or 6 feet seven and a half inches (2.02m) from hoof to shoulder.
The nine-year-old gelding's height is even greater when you include Radar's massive long neck and large head.
He weights in a hefty 2,400 pounds (1059 kilos) and keeps in shape by consuming 18 pounds (8.1 kilos) of grain, 40 pounds (18.1 kilos) of hay and drinking 20 gallons (75 litres) of water every day.
He also has a busy show schedule.
Radar spends a good deal of time on the road travelling to events around the US.
There was no word on what specialty items are outfitted in his horse trailer."
Down the hill
I went to AuSable Forks Saturday morning to retrieve something from the post office (it was too big to fit in my maibox). I never go to town, I conduct all my business in Plattsburgh because that's where I spend my time.
I had a great time on my ride home. It's 13 miles from my house to town and those miles are really, really familiar to me. I've been riding and driving those miles all my life. The old road was curvy and of course had its landmarks. In the late 60's they built a new road--the equivalent of a super-highway in these parts. We really missed the old road but had to admit that it was nice to have the trip to town take about half the time it used to.
This is the infamous Black Brook Hill. Black Brook is a settlement between AuSable and Silver Lake. It used to be a huge small town with lots of buildings and some actual industry. When I first moved here there was an old-fashioned convenience story there (owned and run by Haven Gauthier). Jamie and I used to stop there for beer and/or soda when we were running the roads on weekends.
Anyway, the Black Brook Hill is really well known. You have to downshift to 2nd or sometimes 1st to get up it. The speed limit in Black Brook, at the foot of the hill, is 35, which is a cruel joke I think.
Ken remembers his first trip to town, which was in 1920, when he was 6. It took all day to make the trip there, take care of your business and go home. He & his father went with the team of horses. It was Ken's job to put the wooden blocks behind the wheels of the wagon every once in a while as they went up the hill here so the horses could rest on the way home. I like it that this hill has so much history.
I had a great time on my ride home. It's 13 miles from my house to town and those miles are really, really familiar to me. I've been riding and driving those miles all my life. The old road was curvy and of course had its landmarks. In the late 60's they built a new road--the equivalent of a super-highway in these parts. We really missed the old road but had to admit that it was nice to have the trip to town take about half the time it used to.
This is the infamous Black Brook Hill. Black Brook is a settlement between AuSable and Silver Lake. It used to be a huge small town with lots of buildings and some actual industry. When I first moved here there was an old-fashioned convenience story there (owned and run by Haven Gauthier). Jamie and I used to stop there for beer and/or soda when we were running the roads on weekends.
Anyway, the Black Brook Hill is really well known. You have to downshift to 2nd or sometimes 1st to get up it. The speed limit in Black Brook, at the foot of the hill, is 35, which is a cruel joke I think.
Ken remembers his first trip to town, which was in 1920, when he was 6. It took all day to make the trip there, take care of your business and go home. He & his father went with the team of horses. It was Ken's job to put the wooden blocks behind the wheels of the wagon every once in a while as they went up the hill here so the horses could rest on the way home. I like it that this hill has so much history.
Up the hill
This is looking up the second half of the hill. It seems to go on forever. Though this is the new road, the old road had the same effect. This is the spot where I puzzled over, and finally understood the concept of perspective. I saw that the road became a tiny, narrow thing, and the trees were less than an inch high. That was reality, and it was really queer. I had no idea it was called perspective but I understood the concept. I have no idea how old I was.
Horse farm
This is a familiar sight to members of my family. It's a former horse farm. The old road went on the other side of the farm and the best part of the ride to town was driving past the farm and looking for the horses in the paddocks. Sometimes you'd get to see someone riding the horses.
The farm belonged to a wealthy family--the Newberry's, who owned a chain of discount department stores called J.J. Newberry's. The daughter, Jessica, was a reknowned dressage rider. Our family also knew that she got pregnant and had an abortion during the 60's. Oh, the scandal! Anyway, this was called East Kiln Farm because one of the charcoal kilns from the 1800's was located here.
These people had so much money that they built a bomb shelter for their horses. Yes, that's true.
Several people tried to make a living having this be a riding place but no one could make it work. Once Jenica and I went riding here. It was pretty queer. First the guy made us learn all about sitting on the horse, lying back on the horse with our heads on it's butt, how to do an emergency dismount, and other stuff you didn't need to know for a regular old trail ride. For some reason I was just terrible on this trail ride and I had an awful time with my horse. It reared and I nearly fell off. I switched horses, and we were cantering back to the barn and my horse put her head down, bucked and I went flying onto the ground. Scary, yet reassuring that you could fall from a horse moving that fast and not get hurt. I was really embarrassed because I took riding in college and did really well.
The farm belonged to a wealthy family--the Newberry's, who owned a chain of discount department stores called J.J. Newberry's. The daughter, Jessica, was a reknowned dressage rider. Our family also knew that she got pregnant and had an abortion during the 60's. Oh, the scandal! Anyway, this was called East Kiln Farm because one of the charcoal kilns from the 1800's was located here.
These people had so much money that they built a bomb shelter for their horses. Yes, that's true.
Several people tried to make a living having this be a riding place but no one could make it work. Once Jenica and I went riding here. It was pretty queer. First the guy made us learn all about sitting on the horse, lying back on the horse with our heads on it's butt, how to do an emergency dismount, and other stuff you didn't need to know for a regular old trail ride. For some reason I was just terrible on this trail ride and I had an awful time with my horse. It reared and I nearly fell off. I switched horses, and we were cantering back to the barn and my horse put her head down, bucked and I went flying onto the ground. Scary, yet reassuring that you could fall from a horse moving that fast and not get hurt. I was really embarrassed because I took riding in college and did really well.
Bear Mtn
This is not really called Bear Mountain, I don't know what it's name is. One year when we were teenagers Henry decided we should climb this. It's across from the horse farm. Molly, Henry and I bushwacked our way to the top. I think he expected a great view, but I don't remember that there was one. Not long after we climbed it someone told me there were a lot of bears on this hill.
Henry developed a feeling that we should explore the Adirondacks outside of our little Silver Lake neighborhood, an alien concept to the Rogers family. No one in our family ever climbed any mountain more than 5 miles away from Silver Lake. When Jenica was old enough he and she climbed Algonquin, one of the tallest peaks in the Adirondacks. He was pretty proud of that. They also climbed Catamount, a mountain on the other side of a neighboring lake. We were always intimidated by Catamount because one of our lake neighbors' sister fell to her death when climbing the mountain as a girl. I found out later that they were bushwacking and horsing around on the rocky ledges on the mountain and that's why she fell. Some myths die hard.
I now know a lot of people who've climbed Catamount and I always gasp when they tell me about it, then I laugh and tell them "Dan Webster's sister died on that mountain, you know."
Henry developed a feeling that we should explore the Adirondacks outside of our little Silver Lake neighborhood, an alien concept to the Rogers family. No one in our family ever climbed any mountain more than 5 miles away from Silver Lake. When Jenica was old enough he and she climbed Algonquin, one of the tallest peaks in the Adirondacks. He was pretty proud of that. They also climbed Catamount, a mountain on the other side of a neighboring lake. We were always intimidated by Catamount because one of our lake neighbors' sister fell to her death when climbing the mountain as a girl. I found out later that they were bushwacking and horsing around on the rocky ledges on the mountain and that's why she fell. Some myths die hard.
I now know a lot of people who've climbed Catamount and I always gasp when they tell me about it, then I laugh and tell them "Dan Webster's sister died on that mountain, you know."
Junior Icicle
These are the very small icicles that formed on my roof after the initial ice dam--the one that caused all the dripping and leaking into my living room, finally slid off. I guess the ice the roof was caused by the Valentine's Day blizzard followed by subzero temperatures. Anyway, these are really Junior Icicles, they're very small. You can see the ice dam slipping slowly off the roof. Right after I took this the icicles fell off, then while I was napping most sections of the ice dam came down. It wasn't even big enough to make the dogs bark.
Its coming
This is one of the very, very first signs of spring: the snow around the trunks of the trees melts. I don't know what causes this (oh boy! something for the reference librarian in me to find out) but it's a really cheerful sight that we all take note of.
Winsome boy
Hugo wanted to be outside playing with the Big Dogs. Pay no attention to the drips of bird poop on the window. You can see that he's a very cute little dog.
Friday, March 09, 2007
No grousing
This morning there was a partridge (grouse) at my bird feeder. This is a very strange sight. Don't think I've ever had one there before. Wild turkey, yes, but never a partridge. It took off when I tried to take its picture.
When I mentioned this to Ken he reminded me that, during winter a partridge will create a burrow under the snow. He came upon one once, so deep that there was bare ground at the bottom. I've seen evidence of a partridge popping out of its burrow, the imprints of its wings on top of the snow, but I've never come across a burrow. There are so many amazing things going on in winter.
In winter the ruffed grouse seeks shelter by burrowing into the snow; indeed, I suspect that in many cases, they just hunker down and allow themselves to be buried. Under the snow they are sheltered from the elements and relatively safe (although the odd one falls prey to a marauding fox). If they detect danger, they literally explode from the snow and are quickly away. A flushed ruffed grouse startles in any season, but in winter they burst forth from literally underfoot. Either they can't hear you until you are right on top of them or, more likely, they don't want to flush unless absolutely necessary.
This morning there was a partridge (grouse) at my bird feeder. This is a very strange sight. Don't think I've ever had one there before. Wild turkey, yes, but never a partridge. It took off when I tried to take its picture.
When I mentioned this to Ken he reminded me that, during winter a partridge will create a burrow under the snow. He came upon one once, so deep that there was bare ground at the bottom. I've seen evidence of a partridge popping out of its burrow, the imprints of its wings on top of the snow, but I've never come across a burrow. There are so many amazing things going on in winter.
In winter the ruffed grouse seeks shelter by burrowing into the snow; indeed, I suspect that in many cases, they just hunker down and allow themselves to be buried. Under the snow they are sheltered from the elements and relatively safe (although the odd one falls prey to a marauding fox). If they detect danger, they literally explode from the snow and are quickly away. A flushed ruffed grouse startles in any season, but in winter they burst forth from literally underfoot. Either they can't hear you until you are right on top of them or, more likely, they don't want to flush unless absolutely necessary.
Good morning
This is obvious. I have an indoor/outdoor thermometer, and this is what it read when I checked it this morning. It was -22 at Ken's house. We're not really competitive about temperatures, we just like to compare. I don't expect the temperature in the house to get much higher unless the sun is bright today, even though the heat is on and I left a fire in the stove. I shut the stove down or else the fire just burns hot for a short time then turns to embers.
Much to do tonight before I get home. The indoor temp never really gets much lower than this, and with a good hot fire I can get it up to 68 in two hours or so. Amazing how used to 57 degrees you can get.
Much to do tonight before I get home. The indoor temp never really gets much lower than this, and with a good hot fire I can get it up to 68 in two hours or so. Amazing how used to 57 degrees you can get.
Sleeping Hugo
This is our visitor for the next 10 days or so. Kevin and Julie have gone on their annual trek to Florida for Kevin's conference. I've taken Hugo before. I said I'd take him this year to save them the cost of boarding him. He's pretty low maintenance except now he's 15 and deaf as a post. That just adds a little challenge to the mix. He has Tess totall terrorized because he snapped at her last night when he arrived. She was being too bouncy and he was just asserting his right to be in the house, I think. Anyway she won't go within a yard of him, which also complicates things. Chances still bounces around him, trying to get him to play. Although he wags his tail (barely) he's truly not interested in any form of play. What he likes to do is sleep, go outside and pee on the snow. He's a Westie.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Frozen highway
I took this picture this morning. It's from my regular vantage point looking up the Saranac River. The river is frozen solid in most spots now. It was -19 this morning. Yesterday's high was -5 in my neighborhood. Yes, March is cruel, but the consolation is that April will come next and the snow will begin to melt and there will eventually be tiny leaves on the trees. And my primroses and crocuses will bloom. Hard to believe that will ever happen, but based on history I have to have faith I'll see it again. I never used to believe in the future, but I'm feeling better these days and look forward to months to come.
Lookout
There's nothing special about this shot, she's just cute, don't you think?
It's time for some dog pictures.
It's time for some dog pictures.
Take your Chances
This is Chances Are, sitting in the path poor Bill had to make to get to his camp on Sunday. The snow is really deep, and the path he made was over his knees. I hate walking in snow that deep, it's just a lot of work.
Trough Dog
This sort of shows how deep the path in the trough was. I like the way her ears are flying in the wind, as if she's getting ready to take to the air. This is Chances.
Conjoined
I think I take a picture of the two of them in every season, having a great time together trotting down the road. As I always say, I love to see them together enjoying each other's company. Maybe it's because I like to think of my sister and how we played together when we were kids. Or maybe I just like to see my dogs enjoying each other and the world around them.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
A pocket for Corduroy
Sometimes I feel as if I was a child in a different country (well I was, actually). I never read Corduroy, but I did read Madeline. Today I cataloged a whole, whole big bunch of children's books/CD's. Corduroy, Madeline, Henry & Mudge (whoever they are) ad nauseum. It made my back hurt. Now I have to move on to another batch for another library. This is not my favorite part of my job.
Last night was Ken's birthday celebration. Bill & Fred didn't come because the weather was inclement. If you can have inclement weather, can the weather be inclement? Anyway, it was a dark and stormy night so it was up to me to help Ken celebrate turning 93. He is old, very old. He seemed even older last night. He spent the day receiving phone calls, which pleased him a lot. He made a list of all the people who called him and was very proud of the list.
My brainstorm for dinner was chicken wings, which is something Ken is quite smitten with this winter. I asked Kim, who has young children, where the best place to get wings would be and of course it was a seedy pizza place you wouldn't want to eat at. I don't like wings but these were ok. Ken & I had a nice time and he really liked having his birthday recognized by a meal. We ate a lot. At one point I got incredibly depressed, thinking about people who get old, or don't get old, but who die. Of course I'm thinking of my brother this time of year--more than usual, because I think of him every single day. These days I think of him with sadness and regret. And last night I thought of Ken's death, which I've also been thinking of a lot lately. Trying to prepare myself I suppose. He seems rather frail to me, and certainly seems older these days. Winter is hard on him and he's a little cross, which is totally out of character and a sign of old age.
So it wasn't the best night for me. We got about 5" of snow yesterday and that just added to my misery. I've said that I don't like March. It's really the most miserable and cruelest month. This morning it was -16 and wasn't supposed to break 0 today. Weds. the forecast for my neighborhood is -26. Warmer by the weekend, maybe into the 40's. If I make it that far. I'm still poking under the snow for wood, plus using precious pieces of my dry wood from the woodshed. I feel pathetic. Ken wants to shovel my deck in the worst way but Bill talked him out of it (he told him that, if I wanted it shoveled I'd do it myself--nothing could be further from the truth but of course I couldn't tell Ken that. I'm just lazy and sick of shoveling). Ken also prepared a box of kindling for me so that "all you have to do is put some in the stove, light a match, and you'll have a fire." It's really wonderful that he has this drive to take care of me. I feel pretty beaten by the elements by this time every winter, then March finally ends and I cheer up in April. Maybe early daylight savings will help, but the whole thing is more of a puzzle than a solution to anything as far as I can tell.
Now it's quittin' time and I have to figure out what trinkets I can get for my mother's birthday. Socks, for sure. I have a couple of books I can give her, but what else? I hate having to come up with presents just because it's her birthday, but she needs to have something to open and I can't be there this year. I can only stand to go to the mall tonight, and only a couple of stores there. If that. Must get stuff in the mail SOON if it's to get there on time, I think her mail is delivered by horse and buggy it's so slow.
Sometimes I feel as if I was a child in a different country (well I was, actually). I never read Corduroy, but I did read Madeline. Today I cataloged a whole, whole big bunch of children's books/CD's. Corduroy, Madeline, Henry & Mudge (whoever they are) ad nauseum. It made my back hurt. Now I have to move on to another batch for another library. This is not my favorite part of my job.
Last night was Ken's birthday celebration. Bill & Fred didn't come because the weather was inclement. If you can have inclement weather, can the weather be inclement? Anyway, it was a dark and stormy night so it was up to me to help Ken celebrate turning 93. He is old, very old. He seemed even older last night. He spent the day receiving phone calls, which pleased him a lot. He made a list of all the people who called him and was very proud of the list.
My brainstorm for dinner was chicken wings, which is something Ken is quite smitten with this winter. I asked Kim, who has young children, where the best place to get wings would be and of course it was a seedy pizza place you wouldn't want to eat at. I don't like wings but these were ok. Ken & I had a nice time and he really liked having his birthday recognized by a meal. We ate a lot. At one point I got incredibly depressed, thinking about people who get old, or don't get old, but who die. Of course I'm thinking of my brother this time of year--more than usual, because I think of him every single day. These days I think of him with sadness and regret. And last night I thought of Ken's death, which I've also been thinking of a lot lately. Trying to prepare myself I suppose. He seems rather frail to me, and certainly seems older these days. Winter is hard on him and he's a little cross, which is totally out of character and a sign of old age.
So it wasn't the best night for me. We got about 5" of snow yesterday and that just added to my misery. I've said that I don't like March. It's really the most miserable and cruelest month. This morning it was -16 and wasn't supposed to break 0 today. Weds. the forecast for my neighborhood is -26. Warmer by the weekend, maybe into the 40's. If I make it that far. I'm still poking under the snow for wood, plus using precious pieces of my dry wood from the woodshed. I feel pathetic. Ken wants to shovel my deck in the worst way but Bill talked him out of it (he told him that, if I wanted it shoveled I'd do it myself--nothing could be further from the truth but of course I couldn't tell Ken that. I'm just lazy and sick of shoveling). Ken also prepared a box of kindling for me so that "all you have to do is put some in the stove, light a match, and you'll have a fire." It's really wonderful that he has this drive to take care of me. I feel pretty beaten by the elements by this time every winter, then March finally ends and I cheer up in April. Maybe early daylight savings will help, but the whole thing is more of a puzzle than a solution to anything as far as I can tell.
Now it's quittin' time and I have to figure out what trinkets I can get for my mother's birthday. Socks, for sure. I have a couple of books I can give her, but what else? I hate having to come up with presents just because it's her birthday, but she needs to have something to open and I can't be there this year. I can only stand to go to the mall tonight, and only a couple of stores there. If that. Must get stuff in the mail SOON if it's to get there on time, I think her mail is delivered by horse and buggy it's so slow.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Maple tree
I like those single-tree shots. Something about the black branches with white on top of them, defining each branch. Very Ansel Adams, no?
Visual world
I had a very visual weekend. I saw one of the most beautiful sunsets on my way home Friday night, then very peaceful Saturday and Sunday mornings. Up at 6:30 (why can I do that on weekends, but cannot drag myself out of bed during the week? psychological, no doubt--can't wait to get my Sats. and Suns. going, not so eager to get in my car and catalog Legos), watched the sunrises, drank coffee, let the dogs in and out 30 times. Tess sat in the middle of the path to the birdfeeder and stared at the feeder, waiting for a squirrel to dare show up. Well, the birds won't even show up as long as she sits there, so it was a pretty boring spell for her.
Went to town with Lin, something we used to do all the time. We stopped because we finally realized neither of us could afford to keep doing it. We had a great time playing with her lambs, then she indulged me while I tried on purses and bras. She's a wonderful friend who does a lot for me. We had our usual lunch at the bar. I sort of miss going to bars so it's a nice fix for that.
I cooked Sunday dinner so I spent a fair amount of time cleaning and organizing the house. Am making progress with the back of the house, moving stuff upstairs and figuring out what exactly I have there. Dinner was fine, Ken, Bill and I had a good time. Bill and I took a walk afterwards while Ken slept in his favorite spot next to the window. Bill wanted to check on his camp (correction: he didn't want to but Ken instructed him to). It wasn't reallly cold but there was a cold wind so it was pretty chilly. The snow is really deep now and poor Bill had to slog through it from the road to his camp. The Holt's builder got his dump truck stuck trying to plow down to their house so he had his crew there digging it out. I had a nice chat with him. Their house is really coming along, all that's left is the kitchen, the floors, the fireplaces and a few other things. Drywall and painting all finished. Wow! Now they really need to get furniture for it.
It keeps snowing, a few inches every day. That's March, all right. It was wet snow on Friday, powder over the weekend. I'm not very conscientous about shoveling--I'm sort of done with that, figure it'll be melting within a few weeks so what the hell. Have to dig out my wood, though; it sits in a big snow-covered lump in front of my house. Little house in the big woods.
I had a very visual weekend. I saw one of the most beautiful sunsets on my way home Friday night, then very peaceful Saturday and Sunday mornings. Up at 6:30 (why can I do that on weekends, but cannot drag myself out of bed during the week? psychological, no doubt--can't wait to get my Sats. and Suns. going, not so eager to get in my car and catalog Legos), watched the sunrises, drank coffee, let the dogs in and out 30 times. Tess sat in the middle of the path to the birdfeeder and stared at the feeder, waiting for a squirrel to dare show up. Well, the birds won't even show up as long as she sits there, so it was a pretty boring spell for her.
Went to town with Lin, something we used to do all the time. We stopped because we finally realized neither of us could afford to keep doing it. We had a great time playing with her lambs, then she indulged me while I tried on purses and bras. She's a wonderful friend who does a lot for me. We had our usual lunch at the bar. I sort of miss going to bars so it's a nice fix for that.
I cooked Sunday dinner so I spent a fair amount of time cleaning and organizing the house. Am making progress with the back of the house, moving stuff upstairs and figuring out what exactly I have there. Dinner was fine, Ken, Bill and I had a good time. Bill and I took a walk afterwards while Ken slept in his favorite spot next to the window. Bill wanted to check on his camp (correction: he didn't want to but Ken instructed him to). It wasn't reallly cold but there was a cold wind so it was pretty chilly. The snow is really deep now and poor Bill had to slog through it from the road to his camp. The Holt's builder got his dump truck stuck trying to plow down to their house so he had his crew there digging it out. I had a nice chat with him. Their house is really coming along, all that's left is the kitchen, the floors, the fireplaces and a few other things. Drywall and painting all finished. Wow! Now they really need to get furniture for it.
It keeps snowing, a few inches every day. That's March, all right. It was wet snow on Friday, powder over the weekend. I'm not very conscientous about shoveling--I'm sort of done with that, figure it'll be melting within a few weeks so what the hell. Have to dig out my wood, though; it sits in a big snow-covered lump in front of my house. Little house in the big woods.
Maaama
This is Lin's little boy. Lin and Ralph have sheep and every year they have a bunch of lambs. I try to get over there when the lambs are small enough to pick up and pet. This is the one that Lin is bottle-feeding this year. How cute is he? She says he calls her Mama. He follows her wherever she goes. Everywhere that Mary went the lamb was sure to go. Mary must have bottle-fed her lamb.
Head em up
Here's most of the flock. They usually walk away from me. That's one of the red lambs. There are 3 black ones, 3 white ones (not totally white--they have entertaining markings) and 2 red ones).
How cute is this one? Those ears are just about the cutest thing. Next to puppies, there's not much that's cuter than little lambs. When the weather gets warmer, the snow melts they do incredible things as they play together. Lin used to have a see-saw that you could see from the kitchen window. They would do amazing things on it. At sunrise and sunset they act as if they've just discovered vertical mobility and jump straight up into the air. All of the cartoons you've seen about lambs and the ways they jump are true. Cute, very, very cute.
Nuzzle
I'm really sorry this is so blurry because this really is the best part of the lambs. I love the way it looks as if they have a little smirk, and the "v" their cute little noses make.
Sunrise
Another one of those Ideals shots. It's time for the snow to stop coming down. We had another five inches last night. Even though it's powder, I still think we've had enough. It's now up to my thighs.
The ark
This is what's been in Lin and Ralph's living room all winter: the boat they're building. It's a wooden canoe, which will be covered with fiberglass. It's really beautiful. The third strip from the top (which is the bottom in the picture because of course the boat is upside down) is maple, which identifies it as having been made by them. Ralph and Lin picked out the tree, a friend cut down the tree and cut it into logs, Ralph cut the strips with the saw in their barn and here's the result. They're just about done putting the strips together now. It's really, really beautiful. Everyone should have a boat like this in their living room as a winter guest.
Downstream
This was the view looking downstream from a bridge over the Saranac River on my way home Friday night, at sunset. I like the golden light on the tops of the trees.
Upstream
And this is what I saw when I looked upstream. This is one of my all-time favorite pictures because it reminds me of a really beautiful sight.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Sculpture
I know this just looks like dirty snow but it's really a very pretty ice sculpture. This snow is melting along the sides of the road and it makes these reallly pretty sculptures that stick up. Hard to get a picture of but really nifty anyway. In the background you can see the dramatic effect the snow makes, looking like the landscape of Antarctica in miniature or something. Sharp snow things sticking up, all facing the same direction.
I like it that there's always beauty in things outside, even when it's just dirty snow. Plus this is definitely a sign of early spring, snow melting along the side of the road. Won't be long until there will be rivulets of water flowing as the snow melts. Then marsh marigolds. Then tiny leaves on the trees. Wait, slow down and savor every single moment of it.
Meanwhile we're supposed to have snow, freezing rain and sleet tomorrow, possible accumulation of 4-9". How can they give us such a wide range? Do we get to choose the number of inches we want? If so, I'll take the 4", thanks. I uncovered a bunch of wood from the big pile that's covered by a tarp, covered by 2' of now crunchy snow so that it could dry in the sun. Now I have to put it either in the wood shed or in the house (where there's no room) by midnight tonight.
Yesterday I stayed home with a bad headache--what? sinus trouble so early? I felt better in the afternoon and decided to saw the end off of my dinner table. It's too long so I figured I could saw about 10" off of one end, leaving the other end so that someone could sit there, since one end is always pushed against the wall. Hooray for reciprocating saws! It only took about 10 minutes and like magic I now have a much nicer table. If it were split in the middle I'd have a leaf, since I now have a 10" wide piece of it too. Don't know what I'll do with that. A shelf?
I like it that there's always beauty in things outside, even when it's just dirty snow. Plus this is definitely a sign of early spring, snow melting along the side of the road. Won't be long until there will be rivulets of water flowing as the snow melts. Then marsh marigolds. Then tiny leaves on the trees. Wait, slow down and savor every single moment of it.
Meanwhile we're supposed to have snow, freezing rain and sleet tomorrow, possible accumulation of 4-9". How can they give us such a wide range? Do we get to choose the number of inches we want? If so, I'll take the 4", thanks. I uncovered a bunch of wood from the big pile that's covered by a tarp, covered by 2' of now crunchy snow so that it could dry in the sun. Now I have to put it either in the wood shed or in the house (where there's no room) by midnight tonight.
Yesterday I stayed home with a bad headache--what? sinus trouble so early? I felt better in the afternoon and decided to saw the end off of my dinner table. It's too long so I figured I could saw about 10" off of one end, leaving the other end so that someone could sit there, since one end is always pushed against the wall. Hooray for reciprocating saws! It only took about 10 minutes and like magic I now have a much nicer table. If it were split in the middle I'd have a leaf, since I now have a 10" wide piece of it too. Don't know what I'll do with that. A shelf?
Snow desert
This is what Silver Lake looks like from the foot of the lake right now--a vast white desert. It's very pretty but sure doesn't look spring-like at all. I haven't been down on the lake at all. First I thought the ice wasn't thick enough, then we had the big blizzard on Valentine's Day so now there's 2' of snow and it's too hard to get to it. As that wise old prophet Mick Jagger says, you can't always get what you want.
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