Tibbar Tibbar

Out with the old.

The bottom end of the water filtration system put out some irony water.

Water man took his sweet time changing out the system.  Now we have a new water system, a new smart meter for the electric, a furnace that heats properly, and the adage of things coming in threes satisfied.

In with the new!

Nov 29

Red sky at morning,

Sailors take warning!

I never quite see what the camera sees.  Or the camera never displays the color that my eyes are seeing.

After the first picture, I turned on the flash and was surprised to see big globs that I did not notice without the camera.  Moisture in the air!  What else could it be?  Dust or water spots on the camera lens, zoomies in the air.

The subject of the sentence matters for the meaning.  Do I see or does the camera see?  Do I want breakfast or does breakfast want me?  Is the water man coming today to change out the whole water filtration system or will the system change the water man?
"Change the way you look at things, and the things you look at change." - Wayne Dyer

Nov 28

As to the categories of served and servant, one December a few years ago I opted to be a receiver of gifts rather than a giver.  For many years I had given money, and that particular Christmas I did not.  In fact I gave no gifts that year.  You can be sure the people who were the usual recipients of the customary money were not happy.  But what could they say?
Surely not, "Hey, where's my Christmas money?"
But I could tell they wanted to say it.
It was an uncomfortable holiday season until deciding to learn how to receive.  How great is that?  It's a lesson I may have to repeat this year.
"... I am willing to receive."  - Marianne Williamson

Nov 27

Glad it is above freezing outside.
Yesterday morning, in confusion as to the source of the cold temperatures in the house, I bundled up in fleece, wool and the purple down jacket, thinking it was my messed up internal thermometer again, and that a little coffee would warm things right up.  An hour later, I finally looked at the thermostat that said 62 degrees.  Then double checked on the thermostat upstairs.  Same.
Revelation!  It's not me that's f****d up, it's the FURNACE.  Not the internal furnace, but the external one.  And then I realized the furnace fan had been running nonstop, but the burner never kicked on to heat the water that heats the pipes that heats the house (that Jack built).

Furnace man worked all morning, taking apart almost everything, and could not find the problem.  At 12 PM, he says he needs to go find a part, drives off probably to have lunch, and comes back half an hour later with no part.  He says he has to wait until Monday to find a part.  Meanwhile we are still cold.  We watch him put it all back together and leave us without a working furnace.  At least before, the fan worked.  Now, nothing.
Jim fiddles with the switches for a minute and overrides something in the exhaust system.  Then the fan works.  He opens the transformer box with more switches, peers in for a couple seconds, says, "That looks baked," and then sticks a screwdriver in to close a lever that should close by itself.  The burner kicks on.  He limps to the work bench and gets a wood shim to keep the lever closed and the burner on.  We heat the house for half an hour, get it back up above 70 degrees, and remove the shim to turn off the furnace.
This morning, though it's Sunday, I might call another furnace man.  It's 66 degrees inside. Cold for writing or fine finger movement. Who would leave someone without heat?  How dare he abandon us!

Nov 26

Pieces and parts.

A piano stool from Vermont!  All the pieces are retrieved except for 2 or 3 screws to fasten the base onto the platform and the clawfeet onto the legs. 
One has to wear gloves for this sort of retrieval, for the dust is thick and the memories dangerous.

the twenty-fifth

Frost burns off the trees early in the morning on the walk to the mailbox.

Ice forms in the peeper ponds out back in the tree nursery.

Jim shows off his new Green Bay hat and hip.
I look up the meaning of "cull" and eliminate mashed potatoes and cranberry relish from the Thanksgiving preparation.

We sit down to Thanksgiving dinner.
Cull: To control the size of the herd by removal; to collect, cherry-pick, select.

Happy Thanksgiving

I can keep secrets.  But I just about explode in the containing of them.

So I go off into the woods, track the turkeys who know where to hide, and leave all the secrets out there.

And then I can happily return home without burden to eat pumpkin pie and drink tea while the Green Bay Packers play this afternoon.

Go Pack Go!

Nov 23

Yesterday the day dawned crisp and clear

and a crescent moon rose an hour before the sun.

During the run to the dump and the grocery store I was tickled to see someone with a presumed plan to install Bruce wood floors.  It was a juvenile trigger to see my name in multiples, one of the reasons I drank JB scotch in college.  And why in medical training I tromped up to introduce myself and shake hands with the famous Seattle cardiologist who invented the exercise treadmill protocol used today, the Bruce protocol.
With some measure of chutzpah, I said to him, "Just in case you receive any of my mail, I wanted you to know who to send it to."

Today, with less braggadocio, we are perfectly on the edge of snow and rain.  We have cancelled our attendance at the airport breakfast, have no plans to drive anywhere, and will likely sit in our chairs and shop online.

Two Two

Two is the tarot card of The High Priestess, representing the left channel or nadi called Ida, and also the moon, intuition and hidden knowledge.

Drawing to a pair, two halves of a whole pumpkin.

This made me think of Hooty the Canadian Long Eared Owl

That led to last year's Hooters calendar sent by Dave.

Two can be a complicated thing.

And all I really wanted to do was bake a pumpkin and make a pie from the pulp.  So that is what I will do.

Nov 21

On the way to Cannon Mountain, likely to hike the last 4000 footer of the season, I followed a little Toyota onto the entrance to Highway 4 West.

www.portsmouthbeautyschool.com

There is something endearing about going to a school to learn about beauty.  Someone I know and love thinks the term Beauty Salon is out of date.  As if the ladies weren't beautiful enough and had to go to a shoppe for more.  Nowadays this someone thinks it would be more pc to say Haircutting Place or Place of Smelly Chemicals.

Here's some scary beauty.

Shale scree erosion!

(No wonder the Ol' Man of the Mountain fell here.)

First ice of the season!  On ledge!

Heavy threatening clouds!

The summit of Cannon Mountain with two hours 'til dusk!

Loose footing, ice on the rocks, rain falling, and mountains at night; talk about tackling the fear of falling again.  She walks the hair-thin line between humble and cocky, between facing fear and foolishness.  Might as well make that hair beautiful while walking the thin line.

Nov 20

Hip Man exercises at the kitchen sink,

doing knee bends and leg extensions.

The rainbows dance around him.  He is good company because he's the luckiest man, and some of that luck always rubs off on me. 

Sometimes he can't even believe his own luck.

Nov 19

Hip man put on his jeans!

He exited the camouflaged sweat pants, and appeared in the office fully dressed.  Progress!

I planned the Thanksgiving menu by how it would look on a plate.  Same-o same-o, hi ho the derry-o, the mouse takes the cheese.

Nov 18

Yesterday was a very long duty day.

From a high vantage point the septic man slowly drove into the driveway,

dug out the tank, lifted the lid, and voila!

Eew.
Then the tattooed and pierced furnace man, retired from the Marines after 25 years, came to change the filters on the oil tank and vacuum the soot from the burner.
Then the beautiful physical therapist came to watch Hip Man climb stairs and attempt leg lifts that accompanied his grunting.  "Do you have ankle weights?" she asks him.
I snicker in the corner, covering my mouth with my hand.  Keep quiet, I tell myself, and immediately think of that prayer about the Lord having one guiding hand on my shoulder and one over my mouth.
"Shut up."
"You shut up."

Peter's BDay

Those born on this day are frugal, resourceful, meticulous planners and able to concentrate entirely on one spot.  And when they are done focusing, they move on with no attachment.  How does he do that?

It was the on/off switch that woke me today.  The binary system and the rheostat.  Duality and the shades of gray.  The drop of water and the ocean.  The manifested and the matrix.  The computer and the idea of the computer.
Some live in the binary, dual place of "it either is or it isn't."
Some live in the shadows surrounding is and isn't, like the rheostat.
And a few live everywhere.  I like the idea of living everywhere.

Nov 16

The staples came out of the 5 inch incision, no mess, no fuss.  And for celebration we thought to travel to the lake for an overnight and the airport breakfast.  Even though I know I have to carry the bags,

they still fill a couch; well, a recamier, at least.
This morning I sit in the recliner before hip man is up, just to see what he sees from his chair.

Not bad.

But the overnight may have been pushing it for both of us.  I wonder if we'll try again next week.

Halfway

Daunting is the word for the remainder of November.
There are four parts to the basement, each full of its own stuffing.  The goal is to sort, toss, and simplify by December 1.

One partition contains man cave stuff.

One stores the airplane and camping stuff (and other miscellany).

One holds the yard sale collection.  The worst room is the one that is supposedly already sorted and binned.

Holy Hoarder!

I am taking myself by the scruff of the neck and giving me a shake.  Then I am putting on gloves and a dust mask and digging in.  See ya!

Nov 14

In order to clean up the yard and house, the biology class in population studies came to mind.  It is the class where the students rope off a predetermined section in a field with sticks and string, and comb through that area noting all the particular wildlife, or grasses, or the subject being studied.  In this case, the area was cordoned for cleaning and the boundaries are set in the mind; the back of the house.

What are these buckets?  What's in the bucket with the green lid?

Looks like some soft jacket filler material, a plant pot and dirt.  Wonder what that filler stuff is?

It is soft!  But what's that underneath?

Eek!  Four beady-eyed mice! 

The cleaning project has become a biology class in population studies after all. 

Nov 13

Meditation this morning produced this picture, now the background on the computer.

The pulk man led by a puffy man heading towards the shadow of Circe in the San Juans in Colorado.  Or was that El Dente?  (I'd prefer a sorceress to a tooth.)
And then the morning coughing erupted.
Chicken soup is in order, and another batch of turkey chili.  And Christmas lights on the American Yew newly trimmed outside the door.  The burning bush is now the brush pile, leaving an unattractive batch of sticks climbing the side of the house.  It's too dark for that picture.

Nov 12

The mornings are worst for coughing and sneezing.

This little gadget is supposed to help me more than anything.  It is Jim's incentive spirometer to aid in opening the small airways that tend to collapse when one is protecting their ribcage by taking only shallow breaths.  That may be true, but I've found the best help is taking a standing position, bent over a pillow to the abdomen, hand supporting the left back to cough with a noise resembling a snorting elk.

This morning the cough came during our morning walk in the driveway.  The pretty rocks in the driveway distracted me for a short time while bent over.  And to distract myself more from the disgusting anemic coughing elk, I have added one item on the to-do list today.

I will look up the best way to prune a burning bush gone wild.  It is an innocent bystander that resembles the branching airways in the lung.