adventures


2
Dec 21

Travel day, friends day

I’m going to warn you, there will probably be crying, The Yankee said to me at the airport.

We got up this morning, drove to Indianapolis, put the car at a park-and-fly facility and caught the shuttle to the airport. This was our view.

Checked a bag, breezed through security and boarded the plane. It quickly got above these oddly bright-and-dark clouds. The plane turned south. We were flying south.

When we arrived in Atlanta, The Yankee said that to me. Because after we’d disembarked from the plane and changed terminals we met up with some friends coming off a flight from Nashville. Maybe pushing people out of the way in the jetway was Sally Ann, who we’ve known for seven years. They’re besties and made a beeline to one another. A great many hugs were had and tears were shed. Someone standing off to the side watching this got a bit weepy as well. I gave the bro hug to her husband, who we have also known for several years, but this is the first time we saw them as husband and wife. They got married during the pandemic, but did it on their own, because of the pandemic.

We all got on a plane together, their seats serendipitously right behind ours, and headed further south, to Savannah.

We got off that plane, gathered our luggage and caught an Uber.

This is our town, as you know. The Yankee and I took our first trip here. We kept going back. We got engaged here. We got married here. And now we’re having friend reunions here.

Down in the heart of the historic district our Uber dropped us off at the house we’ve rented for the weekend. I climbed out of the car first. Emerging from the house was The Yankee’s other bestie, who practically floated into my arms. There were more tears. We’ve known Anne and her husband Bill, who flew down from Maryland, for five or six years, but we haven’t seen them since just before the pandemic began. Also inside the house was an old friend of mine, Andre, who drove over from Birmingham. We’ve known him for 15 years or so, but haven’t seen him in ages. During dinner, takeout, Stephen and Brooke stopped by. They’re spending the weekend in a nearby hotel. I went to college with the two of them, meaning I’ve known them for almost a quarter of a century. We haven’t seen each other in far too long.

All of these people have been a part of our weekly Covid video chats. I’m not even sure how they started, but they did begin very early in the pandemic. There were about 17 people, far too many to be heard and understood. It was the first loud thing we’d heard after two or three weeks of silence, and it was joyous just to see the chaos after days of stillness. Over time a side chat evolved, show notes, we called it. And as these things tend to happen, the group worked down to these people, who we are here with now, the usuals. We said, at the beginning of this year, that we should all get together when this was over. We set this weekend, around a 10K run and lots of pleasant, smart, thoughtful people. We were naive, of course, about the timing, but they’ve all been careful with their health, and those around them. They’ve all been vaccinated and received boosters and they’ve been cautious with their activities, just as we have.

It was a delight to sit around a large table and watch these seven other people. They are loud. They are funny. They are boisterous. They are incredibly smart and talented and successful people. They are all our friends.

It was a great coming together. A meeting. An introduction.

They’d never met, not in person, before tonight.

And now we’ll have a long weekend to enjoy, together.


26
Nov 21

That lovely Friday after Thanksgiving

Today is one of the best reasons to like Thanksgiving. The turkey is great, and days of leftovers are wonderful. Family is, of course, the biggest part of it, and the opportunity to reflect is the actual point. And you can do a lot of that on Friday, too. You can avail yourself of a lot of those things on the Friday after Thanksgiving, as it happens.

This was the morning view:

We had an early trip to the airport to drop off The Yankee’s parents. They’d flown in on Sunday and stayed the week and today was the least expensive flight back out to the east coast. They’re old friends who have retired to Indy came down for turkey yesterday. We had a fine time of it. A lot of toil in the kitchen; a lot of tittering in the dining room.

I said all of the good things on the table were my bride’s and anything bad was something I made, but everything was delicious. We were fortunate to have a table full of food and now we have most of a refrigerator full to enjoy all weekend.

And though the in-laws were back before I woke up from a nap, we’ll see them again in a few more weeks. Plenty of visiting for the holidays this year, happily enough.

We took a nice walk this evening, and I enjoyed seeing this tree on fire.

I hope I get back by there again before it deposits all of its leaves onto the ground.

And here was the almost-sunset. Between the tree line and the neighbors we don’t have the best view of the western horizon.

But you can always walk toward it, and try to make sunset heart hands.

Heart hands, we learned, are a bit more challenging in gloves for some reason. She gave it a few shots, but the laughter was better than the posing. Sometimes it’s like that. It’s always better that way.

And I read Craig Johnson’s new book today. He pulled no punches in the acknowledgments. It’s the theme of this part of his Longmire series, and it’s something you might have heard about in the news recently. It spanned two pages in the layout, but it’s worth remembering.

I prefer the series to the books. The character is here, of course. It’s in the first person, though, which is not my favorite style. And there’s always a scene where the central figure takes a bigger beating than necessary. And he’s a bit goofier in the novels than the way Robert Taylor played him in the series.

And there’s the aging problem. The books are now taking place right after one another, which helps. Each book takes place in a different season, so four books equals a year. So this is year four — and I’ve somehow read all 17 in this series. But the sheriff, in the books, is a Vietnam veteran living and working in a time of smart phones. In this one he directly mentions the 1963 Rose Bowl in which the character played. It’s a different sort of math. Whereas Taylor is 49 or 50 in that scene above. But if you can ignore that part, they’re good reads. The bad guys are always idiots or devious villains. The victims and bystanders have a certain heroic stoicism and some keen philosophy. The sheriff always gets his man. And, usually, a head wound.

That’ll do for now. Have a lovely weekend. See you here on Monday.


23
Nov 21

More of the big cats

Here’s the final batch of photos from our Monday trip to the Exotic Feline Rescue Center. We took my in-laws, and had a private tour because they’ve just recently reopened (masks required) to small groups. Because it was just the four of us, our guide let us linger. And it’s a great family fun visit, too. We’ve been before with kids, and the sense of wonder is palpable. And most of the kids survive the tour!

Only kidding. Children are easy targets for apex predators. But, the fences are sturdy, and the cats at Exotic Feline Rescue Center are well pampered.

You won’t find anyone that isn’t impressed by the experience. Visit if you can. Go before lunch if possible, because the cats are a bit more active in the morning.

You can see the first installment in yesterday’s post. Here’s my second batch, full of tigers and a grumpy lioness. Enjoy!

Come back tomorrow! We’re going to hear a lion roar! And maybe some other stuff, too!


22
Nov 21

Seeing the big cats

We took my in-laws to the Exotic Feline Rescue Center. Really cool place with a great mission.

We provide permanent homes for exotic felines that have been abused, abandoned or for some reason have nowhere to live out their lives, while educating the public about these beautiful cats.

· We do not buy, sell or breed cats

· We do not allow public contact with the cats

· We give big cats a home for life

The EFRC owns approximately 260 acres of land in Center Point, Indiana where a staff of around 15 employees, as well as many interns and volunteers care daily for over 100 big and small exotic cats, give educational tours, sell and ship merchandise, construct and maintain enclosures, and many other tasks. We have cared for over a dozen different species throughout the years. There are just a handful of sanctuaries in the US that provide the same services that we do. We work and cooperate with many organizations including: Indianapolis Zoo, USDA, Louisville Zoo, Indiana DNR, US Fish & Wildlife and New York DEC.

Everyone loves visiting there. And if you’re ever nearby, you should definitely plan a few hours and make a visit for yourself. Here are a few pictures.

And more of those tomorrow.


8
Nov 21

Catching up through the mirror

Back to that maple tree I found at the entrance to the neighborhood on Friday. It’s still lovely, for now.

I’m just a big fan of that little batch of red right in the middle of the tree. This guy has character, and I should pay more attention to it through all seasons.

Because I like the smudge of colors in blurry photographs, this is how I’ll wind up remembering the tree:

And because this is my site — my name’s right there on the top, and everything! — here are a few more pictures of that tree.

It has a lot of character.

How can you not love that punk rock red?

Back to my backyard. I’m thinking of making a custom jigsaw puzzle. Would anyone like a copy of this one?

All of those leaves fell out of this maple. Like it sneezed, or brushed some crumbs from its coat.

The evening light on an evening walk. The Yankee has started running in her post-surgical recovery. Next Tuesday is four weeks, and we did an easy mile on Sunday evening.

I spent the rest of the weekend on the sideview mirror right project.

You see, our garage is shrinking, and for the second time my lovely bride has clipped the side with her mirror. The first time, eight years ago this month in our old house, she just shattered the glass, which, it turns out, was easy enough to replace.

Recently, she tore up the plastic mirror assembly. It hasn’t sat correctly since and the power mirror function was ruined. To use the mirror you had to hunch down from your normal driving posture. I wanted to fix this, because I like vehicle safety.

Buying the mirror was the easy part. I found a perfectly matched after-market mirror assembly for $39. It was black. (Her car is not black.) She did not want to drive around with a mismatched mirror. And neither of us wanted to pay a body shop for even a small job.

So I … got to paint the mirror. It started as shiny black plastic. I had to hit two stores on Saturday to find the can eight-ounce can of the matching stuff. I sanded the plastic. I applied three coats of primer.

Then I put on three coats of paint — lunar mist, is what the manufacturer calls it — and too much top coat.

Somehow, this is the first thing I’ve painted since childhood.

I found a seven-minute video on YouTube teaching me how to replace the driver’s side mirror. The length of the video encouraged me, because of course the actual process is much easier after the helpful mechanic over-explains it all. The process requires a flathead screwdriver, a socket wrench and three nuts and bolts.

Now it’s time for the two respective moments of truth. They came at me quick, almost too fast to process, let alone celebrate. First, I kept the glass clean from all of that paint. (I’d also only painted my thumb once, and made three small errors throughout the application process. We’re calling this a win.)

The next big victory was seeing the power mirror action working again. When she hit the garage it severed the cables inside the old assembly. The new assembly, of course, has its own wiring, which is in great shape. All I had to do was plug it into the car. And the mirror moves just as it should.

The paint job, for someone who never paints, isn’t bad. Maybe I’ll try to buff it down next weekend. Right now, it’s safe, and that’s what counts.

And that it matches.

I told The Yankee that I’m saving the old mirror for next time. But, hey, if you have to whack a mirror in this car, now I know how to do it. I built up a great deal of confidence in my ability to do the job.

Which makes me dangerous.

Like her backing up.

I also told her I’m cutting a notch out of the garage wall, like the old cartoons leaving a body silhouette when they went through a wall, so the mirror can pass right through.