We spent yesterday evening traveling. A car, a plane, another car. Dinner on the road from a generous burger place that fed us even as they closed. This evening, we stood on a cement floor for hours and hours. Five hours. Seeing faces old and new. Mostly old. Recollecting good times, trying to recollect some of those old faces. A lot of that is hard. I don’t mean the floor.
Monday
15
Jul 24
Come for the book, stay for the cats, or vice versa
It was a low effort weekend around here. I blame the heat advisories. And also the sun. It’s possible that both of those things are related. Also, I should blame the Tour. The race was in the Pyrenees this weekend, and the mountains are where all the fun, and much of the grand scenery, is to be found.
We were actually watching the Tour, on tape delay, when the phone call came in Saturday. Turn on the news. The call and texts came at almost the same time. And for the time it took to get off of one streaming app and on to another — several looooooong seconds — and then to the news stations, we wondered. I chose ABC, because of my ABC roots, and because we also got there first. And that was not the Saturday night anyone expected. I turned it off for a while, and back to the race, and then turned it back on again. Just to see if there was anything new, to see if it had all been true.
I checked the calendar — the Tour is on, the sun is out, the temperatures are high — it is only July.
I started a new book yesterday. (I have three going right now, sorta. Just like the old days, almost.) This is Walter Lord’s The Dawn’s Early Light. Published in 1972, it is one of his 13 bestsellers. The blurb on the dust jacket says “Author of A Night To Remember, Incredible Victory, etc.”
“Etc.,” of course, is Latin for, “You’re doing something right as an author.” This is my first Walter Lord book and I can tell you, he’s doing something right.
Codrington is Captain Edward Codrington, captain of the British fleet in naval operations against the Americans. The man in charge had been back and forth, back and forth, on where he wanted to give the Americans what for. But finally it was settled, and Condrington was sailing upriver for the small fishing village of Benedict, Maryland, and then overland to Washington, D.C. The plan was to take 48 hours.
Lord tells us that the problem, on our side, was that the American government was a shambles. And almost nobody in Madison’s cabinet thought the Redcoats would come for swampy Washington. Who’d want the place? That was the thought of Secretary of War, John Armstrong, Jr. He had been a member of the Continental Congress. At this point of American history he was one of the most well regarded in terms of military experience, having served as an aide-de-camp to Generals Mercer and Gates in the Revolutionary War. He was also a fool. (Wikipedia tells me his peers were a bit skeptical about him.)
I bought this book eight years ago this week. I paid a whole penny for it. I’m 64 pages in — my reading interrupted by lightning — and I am comfortable saying it was worth the investment.
And with that, we can now continue on to the site’s most popular weekly feature, the check in with the kitties.
Phoebe would like an adjustment to her midday window curtains, please and thank you.
And here she is later, wondering why I haven’t adjusted her curtains more to her liking.
I took this photo of Poseidon because I was telling a story to a friend about how Poe was taking the heat for one of the humans in the house. It was a good illustration for the punchline, and his chin-rubbing was just perfect. He thought you might enjoy it, too.
And since we’re watching bike racing … and Poe is a big fan of bike racing …
He has been working on his aerodynamic positioning.
I haven’t put him in a wind tunnel, but that looks like a pretty good shape, don’t you think?
8
Jul 24
A mere mortal, birds and a frog
I’m beginning to feel better, thanks for asking. It is now later in the day before I feel sapped. It takes a bit more exertion to feel weary. These are important progressions, signs and portents of recovery summer. Don’t think I’m not frustrated by having been laid semi-low for three weeks and change from a sinus infection. We’ll see how I hold up this week.
I will demand refunds. I will not get them, but I will demand them.
But I am improving!
Here’s a bit of proof. I had a nice long swim on Saturday. It was ugly. I think I wrote, in my tracking app, that it wa ragged. Or raggedy. It was at least one of those things, if not both.
But I got in 2,000 yards. I jumped in the pool fully expecting I would soon be frustrated, but about a third of the way through I began to wonder if, instead of dying in the water, my shoulders would ever warm up. And then, finally they did. About two-thirds of the way through it finally turned into an acceptable swim.
That usually lasts about 500 yards for me, even on a normal day.
Tried a bike ride, just my second ride of the month and my third ride in … a while. (That’s how you know I’ve not been goldbricking, I suppose.) I had a little ride last Monday and it turned into one of the weirdest, hardest experiences I’ve had in years. So waiting was the new plan, and I did that until Friday.
My lovely bride invited me on a 25-mile ride. Then she told me the route she planned, and I knew this was not a 25-mile ride. I didn’t say anything, because some things have to be learned, and re-learned, for yourself. This is how it went.
Started out great! Tailwind! Much fast, many pedals, happy mood.
Then, for an inexplicable reason, I saw this guy in a corn field.
I rode well for the first hour, and then struggled for 20 minutes or so. And then, at exactly 25 miles, my legs had a talk with my mind and soon after I was left to sweat and struggle my way through a humid half hour.
When I got back, I received a cute little apology that the 25-mile route was, in fact, a 34-mile ride.
We’ve done that route, a combination of our two default rides, several times before, but some things insist on being learned in their own time. I’m sure, in time, we’ll have that same experience again. I’ll just fuel better.
In the meantime, I have to get back in better shape.
I sat outside the other night and listened to the noisy, noisy birds. Usually they blend in, but they were adamant at being noticed at midnight, when good birds should be sleeping. And then I remembered I have this app on my phone that listens to bird song and tells me who is violating noise ordinances.
These were our Friday night birds.
On Saturday morning, we had another visitor. He’s been by before. This, I assure you, is a sturdy, thick, frog.
No idea where he comes to us from. I always try to make sure he’s got good coverage. I wish I knew his pond or stream, so I could help him get back there. The closest water is about 900 yards away. That would have been quite a few hops, even for a frog of this size.
Sunday afternoon posing.
And speaking of posing, as we check in on the kitties, it’s the return of … Super Phoebe!
When she’s done taking a nap like that, she will push off with her back legs and spin herself down to the floor. Super Phoebe is a hopefully, an excellent nap.
Here she is in her secret identity, Posing Phoebe.
Every now and again Poseidon rediscovers the exhaust installation over the stove.
Thankfully, he leaves the spice cabinets alone. Perhaps surprisingly so. That’d be his sort of chaos, really.
As I often say about him, it is a good thing he can be charming.
But that’s not fooling anyone.
1
Jul 24
Now my jaw hurts, or my ear, could be my face, also my lungs
It’s possible that, while I have felt largely fine — tired, stuffy, but fine — that I’ve been a bit farther beneath the weather than I realized. It’s possible that I’m falling apart as I write this. So, you know, standard issue cold. I’ll be fine tomorrow, or Thursday, or two Tuesdays from now. I’m only 10 days into feeling mostly OK and kinda unwell, after all. These things take time.
I don’t want to overstate it. It hasn’t been bad. The biggest thing is that I’ve done less the last few days than I should have. That’s pretty much it. Even still …
Sunday afternoon I got in a 1,650 yard swim, my longest since last September.
I even swam it at a reasonable pace, a mile in 40 minutes. I’ve just looked at two different charts on the world wide web, which is authoritative in every way, and they have each convinced me that this time is somewhere between novice and intermediate. I need to swim more.
Just as soon as my shoulders are rested.
That swim was probably fast because I had somewhere to be. Swim scared, swim with an appointment coming up fast, I say. It was a do-the-laps-run-through-the-shower sort of exercise. I had to get to the airport. I had to drive through this.
And then it was hurry up and wait. And wait. And wait. There’s a sign in the cell phone lot that says the maximum time allowed is 30 minutes, but I encourage the airport to take that up with the airline and mother nature. (They also have two vending machines full of drinks in the cell phone lot, which seems at odds with the parking limits.)
I stayed there for three hours. But the views, man!
My lovely bride wasn’t that far away. A few fences and rules about running around on the airport tarmac were all that kept us apart. And also the weather.
Ahe landed early, 5:45. She got off the plane at 9 p.m. And so I spent three-plus hours in the cell phone lot. This gave me plenty of time to go through the contents of my car — six pairs of sunglasses, four masks, two full-sized umbrellas, a giant fist full of napkins, four grocery store bags, a lint roller … and so on. Allowing me to bring a little more order that paired nicely with Saturday’s chore of vacuuming the trunk, which was a big effort, and probably a clue, in retrospect, of how the ol’ body is feeling. Anyway, Approaching 9:30 I finally got her in the car. And if the worst thing that happens when a loved one is flying almost a quarter of the way across the country and through bad weather is that you miss dinner, you take it.
Just think of how much I could have swam if I knew I had all of that extra time …
Today, we visited a local farm and picked up some vegetables. You get a custom box of fresh, locally grown produce every week. On the side, they’re selling corn for a dollar an ear.
If you ride around here enough a few ears of corn will just fall into your window. Save your dollars.
Our friend Stacey came over for a bike ride. It was a nice easy ride. We pedaled by the bike shop, where the local runners were getting ready to run. We went through town and back into the country side.
And then we found ourselves on a road with one small hill. Rather than grind it out, I wanted to get over the thing. Stacey interpreted this as an attack, it was not an attack, but so suddenly we were in an uphill sprint.
She is fast. It hurt. Breathing was a little bit harder after that. I spent the next several miles trying to recover from it. I think I am still trying to recover from it. See above.
We haven’t check in on the kitties in a few weeks. The cats know. And they are letting me know. You’ve all been missing out on the site’s most popular weekly feature, and for that I apologize.
Phoebe has moved to her summer afternoon napping tree. It’s a popular spot for the midday sun.
Recently, she re-discovered a basket she doesn’t get to enjoy all that often. It usually holds another basket, but now it’s a Phoebe spot.
Poseidon, meanwhile, is happily hanging out on the fridge. In between cabinet meetings, as you can see. He often spends dinner time — the cat’s me time, I’ve decided — in that cabinet behind him there. He’s ridiculous.
And there is, of course, always time for the tunnel. This may be his favorite spot, not counting someone’s lap, or being featured online.
So the cats, as you can see, are doing just fine. And they hope you’re off to a great start to your week, as well.
24
Jun 24
When the trees fell
It was a Sunday afternoon swim. And then there was a Sunday afternoon outside, reading in the shade. Then, the clouds darkened to the southwest. We went inside.
Took a shower, sat in my studio office space, where I am typing this right now.
Then the rains came. We’ve been soggy for a week. No big deal. Then there was one great big gust of wind. For that one moment, it felt like the siding and the windows were fighting to stay where they were, or deciding if they’d rather be somewhere else. And then it stopped, as wind does. And you immediately forget about it, as you do.
A few minutes later, my lovely bride says to me, from somewhere downstairs, “We’re going to have a problem when this is over.” So I went to see what that was about.
What that was about was a pine tree. We have three of them tucked up right next to the southeastern corner of the house for some reason. Just sitting there and growing, here on the inner coastal plain — where the heavy land and the green sands meet. We’d talked with someone about removing the three of them one day, for safety purposes.
Now we only have to remove two of them.
Meanwhile, on the northern corner of the house, a chunk of the Bradford pear tree was sheered off. The previous owners let this thing mature and grow too large and it is a weak tree and guess what we have to deal with now?
One of the black cherry trees in the backyard also has three or four big limbs high up in the canopy snapped off. Some of the trees on the other side of the yard lost some smaller limbs.
The first order of business, after the storm stopped, was checking on our neighbors. Everyone was OK. Joe the Younger, who lives next to us with his young family, had one sickly, stubby ancient tree take a big hit. The lady diagonal from us has some limbs in her back yard. Joe the Older and his wife, directly across from us, lost some stuff in the woods behind their house. Behind us, our neighbor just installed a new greenhouse, one with an automated window that opens and closes based on the temperature. He said it was askew.
So we got the worst of it. And we were lucky.
Joe The Older came outside and said he was going to go check on the farm and his horses, and then he’d be right over with the chainsaw. The farm isn’t far away, and he was back soon. He only has some leaves on the ground over there, he said. And then he cranked up his chainsaw like it was Christmas morning and we cut that pine tree out, and then cleared the garage door. Then we chopped a lot of that wood for the fire pit and started moving the branches around. I did about four more hours of that today.
The power was out for about six hours. I took my second shower of the night, letting the rain wash dirt and bits of wood and bark and sawdust off of me.
My heart hurts about the black cherry tree; the wallet will hurt about the debris removal. Everyone is OK.
