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26
Aug 24

I did the pedaling thing, it was just like riding a bike

Since we didn’t do it last week, and shame on me, let us immediately get to the most popular weekly feature on the site. No one demands the weekly feature on the cats as much as the kitties. This is an important part of the schedule around here. We are quite regimented and, believe me, they know. They spend enough time hovering over computers; they can tell.

Here’s Phoebe, giving me a little judgement for the oversight.

She loves boxes, of course. It’s just baked in to cats. She has a west-facing afternoon window seat, and a while back we put one of the cat caves — it’s a small sleeping bag, basically — on it. She sleeps on that. Recently, we put the cat cave in a box and she is very pleased with this development. Almost as if she’s relieved we finally picked up her signals.

Here’s Poseidon, working on his aerodynamic position.

You can’t get more low drag than that cat. Gotta work on those ears, though.

So the cats, as you can see, are doing great, and thanks for asking.

I got out for a bike ride this evening. First one in almost two weeks, and just the second ride in three weeks. I blame my ear — which is very much improved by the way! — and the vagaries of life. Both have been getting in the way of the more important things, like this.

  

We have several standard routes. Two of them we have combined into a slightly longer route. Today I did that, but I did it in reverse. Really shook up the horses, who were busy frolicking around when I went by.

Later, I was buzzed by a CH-47 Chinook, probably on maneuvers from the base an hour or so away.

Of course, earlier in the day the house was buzzed by a C130 that belonged to the Egyptian air force. I wonder what it’s doing around these parts.

Around these parts began to look like this on the last bit of my ride.

I timed this just right. It got dark right as I got back in the neighborhood. Didn’t even have to turn on my headlight. It was a slow, quiet, peaceful 34 miles. Felt great!

I wonder where I’ll ride tomorrow.


23
Aug 24

Still not over it

Last night, we went over the river.

We went for a poke bowl. This was when I learned something about poke bowls. The fish is raw — which is not my thing. Eat it fast and in big chunks, then.

And, next time, order the ramen bowl, like you initially planned to do.

Anyway, it was a lovely night for dining outside. We were the only people at the place, so we timed it right. And the food was good, except for, you know.

The purpose of that trip was to go see a rock ‘n’ roll show. I am, of course, going to get two posts out of this.

Opening the show was Melissa Etheridge. I bought her first albums as cassette tapes. They were loud and a little rowdy and a lot intense. Or, as she said last night … (Excuse the video quality, we were roughly a quarter of a mile away.)

  

That’s a good summation, the raw lyrics, the talented guitar work, it all worked very well.

For me, it was all about those first three albums — even though I was playing catch up. Someone played me a song as a teen and that 12-string guitar got my attention and her sound kept it. Superstardom was obviously on the way, the drama was there, and she was belting things out as fast as she could churn them out, and she’s been prolific for decades. Sixteen studio albums, five of them platinum, two golds. She’s supported them with 43 singles, including 11 that charted and six landing in the Top 40. She’s moved more than 25 million units, not counting whatever her digital sales are. But, again, for me, it was the first three records. Time and place. Lightning in a bottle. An earnestness that matched a feeling, whatever it was. If I had to narrow it down further, it just might be about this song. And, man, I still can’t believe this happened. It’ll take days to get over this. (Update — Still not over it.)

  

Amy and Emily doing melody on the song about two people running away together, or just running away? I do not know the extent to which a pop ballad can move a person, but there I was, thinking, No way 16 year-old me could have pictured any of this.

I suppose we could have left then and I would have felt as though I’d had my fill. How often can you say that just a handful of songs into a show? But you don’t do that, because there’s always the potential for magic in the air. They rolled out a piano and Etheridge put down her guitar and played a Joan Armatrading classic.

  

One day, someone is going to figure out that Melissa Etheridge has just been riffing on Bruce Springsteen, Billy Joel and Joan Armatrading her whole career. And why not? It works.

She’s 63 and still brings it. I’d never really had a desire to see her in concert, and I see now that was my loss. She put on a terrific show, and that was only the first half. We’ll get to the rest of the show next week.

Back at home, we have a new friend in the backyard. I just happened to catch this in the light as I went about the evening chores. Much better to see it than feel it.

It’ll be interesting to watch that web work evolve, I’m sure.

Meanwhile, over in the giant leaf district, we will find giant leaves.

That plant sits next to the water spigot, so it gets a bit of extra water whenever that’s on. I assume that’s why it’s taller than me now. Thankfully the brown-eyed susans that are growing next to it have no similar ambitions. But who knows what they’ll get up to this weekend.

And you? What are you up to this weekend? Make sure it is a good one!


22
Aug 24

You got a saw? You’re gonna need a saw.

At some point, probably over the weekend while we were gone, we had a tree branch fall from one of the stately old trees on the north side of the property. We noticed it Tuesday. Today I did something about it. This is two-and-a-half sweaty hours distilled into a few words and photos.

It was much worse than this photograph, which I shot from the hip. Mostly because I was about a third or the way done with it at this point.

I was texting with someone and I received a good old-fashioned expression about how things were going for them, which made me want to come up with my own expression. So I was standing there thinking, I’m a lumberjack without a saw … which was both creative, and accurate.

But also inaccurate. I was cutting away the branches from the limbs, only I was using a pruning saw. It’s great for dispatching smaller bits, but becomes physical, quickly, with larger lumber. And as hour two turned into hour three, it became physical. Here’s a part of what I’d cut away, again, about a third of the way through the effort.

Not pictured is the stack of heavier sticks, sitting just behind that pile, that’ll make their way to the fire pit this fall. Also not pictured are my scraped up fingers and bloody knee.

And I still have to figure out something to do with the six-foot-tall pile of sticks and leaves. There’s only so much kindling one needs.

And then there’s the actual limb itself. But that’ll wait until another day, giant thing that it is, exhausted as I was.

Part of my repair was a nice shower and the last fresh-from-the-tree peach smoothie of the summer.

That’s right, when I want another one, I’ll have to go to the freezer and pull up some peaches I’d grabbed earlier this year. Or some of the peaches I grabbed last year.

I was too tired to ride my bike, and I can’t swim with my ear yet. Maybe Tuesday. Maybe Wednesday. So I just sat and looked at the water this afternoon.

And contemplated chainsaws.

Now, it’s coming into the evening. More on that tomorrow.


21
Aug 24

Don’t forget your hands

I was running late. Well, that’s not exactly fair. Let me back up. I was perfectly on time. But then I realized I forgot something, a notebook, and so I had to double back. That’s when the comedy of errors began. I’m sitting at a T-intersection, trying to turn right, and the whole of the town is going the same direction. And as the clock ticked by I waited.

I was supposed to be at a meeting, but now I was running late. And then a dump truck pulled out in front of me, that sort of road-joining that is mostly safely, but entirely annoying. That slowed me down some more, and so on, and then so forth.

I arrived at the meeting place to find the meeting had been rescheduled for tomorrow, which is today. The in-person meeting became a Zoom, which was helpful for file-sharing and the like. And that’s the story of the first meeting of the year.

The good thing about yesterday was that the meeting place was right next to a doc-in-the-box, which I wanted to visit anyway. I’ve been dealing with an unpleasantly persistent case of swimmer’s ear and I hear that medical science has invented an antibiotic drop that’s better than the stuff you can get over the counter. The woman, a PA I think, that I saw said that was indeed a thing, and she filled out a prescription. And, wouldn’t you know it, my pharmacy had it filled before I even got back home. So now there’s stuff in my ear.

Well, not right now, because it’d fall out as I sat here, upright. But I suppose there is stuff in my ear, because swimmer’s ear. It’s getting better, but not as quickly as it should, hence my side visit.

I wouldn’t recommend it. The swimmer’s ear, I mean. The walk-in visit was fine. I didn’t even sit down in the waiting area before they called me back. It was the most in-and-out experience you could imagine, as it should be for such a small thing.

Also, I got my palm scanned. Not for any street performer tarot reasons, mind you. This is how they identify people now. Not from the palm prints, but from the blood vessels. The nice woman at the reception desk told me that. I, of course, knew I could do four minutes of material on this. She knew it as well, because as soon as I started in, she handed me a one-sheet explaining the technology. The long and the short of it is that I have to remember to take my right hand back should I ever need to visit again.

So, note to self and all of that.

We had a nice moon this evening. The view from the backyard.

And the stars above us out front, to the west, looked fine, too. Watering plants in the evening has this reward. If you look up, you can have this nice quiet moment of wonder.

Not pictured, the plane going to Boston that ruined the first shot, cruising over at 30,000 feet. This was, of course, after I spent some time in the gazebo enjoying the fresh air of a cool summer night and the chorus of crickets and the song of whatever else was out there.

I was reading Walter Lord’s The Dawn’s Early Light. It is about the War of 1812.

This one, if I recall correctly, I got because someone my mother-in-law knows was downsizing. She had a great big stack and let me take whatever I wanted, so I of course came away with my arms full. It’s been in the To Read bookcase for a while. Published in 1972, I am just intrigued that a little side note like this one, from the British capture of Washington D.C., made it into a popular history book a century-and-a-half after the fact.

I am up to the subsequent attempt to conquer Baltimore now, so there’s really only whatever happens there and New Orleans to go, I suspect. But it has become one of those books that you don’t want to end. It is my first Lord book and I’ll probably be adding more of his work to my bookshelves. Lord was a talented writer with an incredibly active voice.

We return once again to We Learn Wednesdays, the feature where we discover the county’s historical markers via bike rides. If I am still counting this correctly, this is the 44th installment, and the 76th marker in the We Learn Wednesdays series. And this one is relatively new. It is also not especially historic, but I published a similar one last year and the concept is nice.

A rain garden is a shallow basin planted with deep-rooted native wildflowers, grasses and shrubs. Their extensive root systems filter stormwater runoff and help prevent pollutants and sediments from entering our groundwater and waterways.

In addition to helping to prevent erosion and improving water quality, native plants provide essential food and habitat for local wildlife. Their seeds and nectar provide a valuable food source for birds, butterflies and other insects. Native plants are those that were here prior to European settlement. They are well adapted to local conditions and require very little care once established.

I just happened by this one the other day, seeing it out of the corner of my eye as I pedaled between two historic markers. I wonder why there aren’t more of these, wherever there’s a free spot.

There are always free spots.

Next week, we’ll visit a properly old site. If you’ve missed any markers so far, you can find them all right here.


20
Aug 24

There’s a hint of live music below

Well, today was just beautiful. Impossibly so. Sunny, blue skies and temperatures settling into the 70s. There was no ambitious mercury in the thermometer. No overbearing sun. Just this …

… and the promise of another day or two of it afterward.

It was this beautiful. I couldn’t decide what to do with the day. Which was weird.

Finally, I settled on sitting outside and reading. It was a good choice.

It was such a good idea, I did it again, sitting outside this evening, listening to the symphonic crickets, flipping through pages of a book, asking myself why I don’t do this all of the time.

I should do this all of the time. Or at least more.

We return to the Re-Listening project. Regular readers know I’ve been listening to my old CDs in the car, and in the order of their acquisition. We’re in, let’s say it is 2006, listening to a 1998 record that I picked up at a library sale. It’s everyone’s 1990s friend, the Dave Matthews Band.

“Before These Crowded Streets” was their third album. Béla Fleck appears. Alanis Morissette is on it. And so is the virtuoso Tim Reynolds — this being just before he joined the band. It was another successful album, even as they were beginning to change some things up. The instrumentation gets more exotic, the time signature experiments are underway, and the themes got a bit more mature, a bit more worldly.

This was the record that pushed the Titanic soundtrack from atop the Billboard charts. Three singles became hits, the record went platinum four times in the United States.

Some of the best parts of this record are the interludes, usually outtakes, between the songs. And the biggest memory I have about this record is actually from a live show. They play the amphitheater in 1998, supporting this record and the version they did of “Don’t Drink the Water” was just about the most intense thing I could imagine seeing at a yuppie party. Here’s a version from that tour, about three weeks earlier than the show I saw. This is sedate in comparison to my recollection.

They’re still at it, of course. Ten studio albums and something like 17 live albums later. Touring machines, who even knows how many millions of concert tickets they’ve sold at this point. But I know some people who have purchased a lot of them. My god-sisters-in-law (just go with it) and their large entourage see them a lot, probably four or five different dates a year. And they invited us to one of them. It was my third or fifth time seeing them, and my first in 20-plus years.

  

I don’t think I even mentioned the concert here. We left the show early for some reason that was never explained. The group gathered and walked out and, I said Who doesn’t stay for the false finish, let alone the encore? And the answer was, the crowd of people we were with, for some reason.

Though I blame DMB as the sole culprit in the outlandish ticket prices we’ve seen explode in the last several decades,
they still create a happy crowd. And their tour continues right now. They’re playing the northwest, before heading back east in late September for some festivals, and then a few fall dates in Mexico.

We’ll go north, to Canada, when next we return to the Re-Listening project.

But what will we get into here tomorrow? Be s ure to stop by and find out!