Fireworks – public or private

when I was a kid, fireworks were a big show that went on July 4 at dark. They were shot off over the lake and we were far enough north it never started until after 10 o’clock. It was hard to wait, but worth it.

I remember having “private” fireworks now and then at Aunt Mae & Uncle Cliff’s cabin in Wisconsin. I think they were legal there but I’m not sure. All we had were sparklers and something you lit and it ended up as a worm-shaped pile of ash. I didn’t understand the point and I still don’t. But the sparklers were fun.

Nobody set fireworks off in our neighborhood, nobody. That’s hard to remember now when for ten straight days in summer children, primarily, set them off all day long (firecrackers) and every evening.

I used to love fireworks but now I have Sammie and he is terrified. Every July 4 I have to give him Valium and carefully time his going potty, to make sure he is on empty between 8 PM or so and midnight.

I know for a fact many people hate the way it is and my vet told me many, many pets suffer at this time. So it’s a symbol of something larger: do we all pay a little for something excellent that we share or is everyone for himself better? And do we let the people who make tons of money off the question made the decision?

That’s really the question: is everything about making money?

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Relocation: no right answer

on the question of relocation: if not now, when? if now, where? there may be no right answer. I hate that.

I guess the when is – when I find a job I wouldn’t mind more than this one, somewhere I’d rather live. lots of guessing there! and I can’t even start looking for a job until I “get organized”, right?

the now isn’t going to work unless the moment I start actually looking for a job one pops up. Course that’s possible, I guess.

I am leaning towards going: what I can do here is so severely limited by the low population – it’s hard enough to meet people but here, those I do meet are into sports, their kids (especially their kids sports!), farming, and are politically right-wing.

Now I just need to get up the courage and energy. I guess the “getting organized” part is ongoing: I would need to do that anywhere.  I’m having trouble visualizing a result that seems practical. I have such a tendency to fancy that green, green grass on the other side of the country!

One thing I am sure about: it’s better to move joyfully towards something than to run frightened away from something else. In fact, it may be better to move sluggishly, pettishly or even anxiously towards something than do nothing. Atrophy is not my friend.

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excellent pooping experience

nother charming thing about Tiny House – a person can sit on the toilet and look out the winder and see the sun rise. actually it’s late enough the sun is already risen but there are clouds there and I can only see a sliver of pink sun coming up above that. right over a grain elevator. sheer poetry, really. also I can hear birdsong.

can’t ask for a nicer pooping experience. theoretically, I mean. not like I am actually doing it right now and sharing that. no way I’d do that. *flushing noise*

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Cold Front

is anything more lovely than a cold front following the heat? when I was a kid, the January Thaw was exciting, in the middle of a real winter, and Spring itself was excellent. But memories of this have really faded.

And I also remember the dreaded heat – even in Duluth –  and trying to sleep in the basement, once, on a smelly green cot.

We had over 100 degrees two days in a row and, while yesterday was only 90 something (and that felt better) this morning it is 58 and it is heaven to have the windows open.

I got cold letting the dogs out – it’s very windy and I had to stand outside holding onto the gate so it wouldn’t swing into them and the feeling was delicious.

A week later and the hot is unbearable. Over 100 the last two days and a few more predicted – besides that, it’s humid. I hate this. But I have only myself to blame that I am living somewhere without central air. It isn’t like I don’t believe in global warming, either, so I really need to plan a bit better!

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What’s not quite appalled but more than a bit upset: shocked? worried?  Here’s the deal: I’m worse. My writing is worse, my house is no better, the clutter in my mind is in serious need of sorting. I have put on a bit of fat but, worse, I am weaker. For Crying in the Beer, I live half a mile from work and I drive there. Might be less than that, I’m embarrassed to measure.

I’m 50 years old and facing the fact that simply not being obese isn’t the answer to anything. I have been binge eating more than when I last wrote about it, although I’m still not as bad as I was before weight loss surgery. All the other issues: relationships, money, authenticity, you name it – are still staring me in the face or puddle-ing up in front of me and making the floor slippery.

Mostly, I am writing because I said I would. Starting to blog again after a bit more than a year I find I wrote much less than I remember writing and much better than I am able to now. Where is my BRAIN? soaked in the goo created when you eat the Standard American Diet? SAD that is, and indeed I have the sadness. I feel like shit too much of the time.

So I am not obese anymore and I don’t think I will be again; it just doesn’t work for me. But lord knows the lack of obesity is not enough. So, what? strength?  growth? spirituality?

The answer is in myself, not on Facebook, not in a box of cookies, not in a bottle of wine.

Fuck Me Running. I learned that from EN and I like it. but I can’t share it with my non-swearing friends.

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carbs baked with love

You’ve heard of The French Paradox: they eat a lot of high fat food and smoke like a wet campfire but don’t have anywhere near the rates of heart disease that we have in the US.

It’s the red wine, right? we can get resveritrol in a pill and take care of that.

But probably, it’s a total lifestyle that’s better than ours. More balance, less stress. People live with a financial safety net people here can’t even imagine and when they do eat the high fat food they aren’t feeling guilty about it. And it takes place in a society that values quality over quantity of food.

So, a rich sauce and some cheese for dessert: this takes place in the context of a leisurely meal eaten with family and friends. A glass of wine, good cooking, lots of time, it’s all very different from a bag of fries  inhaled within five minutes of leaving the drive through.

I would guess it’s the same thing for carbs: sure it’s better to go whole grain or sprouted, but there would be something to be said for a lovely loaf that was none of these things but baked by your lover in the kitchen of your small villa in a town where you have lived all your life.

Or some other lovely fantasy.

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Paradise in Nebraska

Yesterday, I met Joyce about 40 minutes north of here and we went to Crescent Lake Wildlife Refuge: a place so unknown it stumped google maps. Following directions from the cashier at a gas station in Oshgosh, Joyce’s car took a beating on the washboard surface of the gravel road. I was sure we were on the wrong road – this one was only one lane part of the time, that can’t be right, but after what seemed like an hour what was only 29 miles had gone by and we arrived.

Lovely stroll to look at birds with a small group of binoculared people. Met a woman from Maine who seemed at least as knowledgeable as our guide, who travels for her job inspecting organic farms. She actually knew the farm – and family – of one of my in-patients, did I mention this was about 100 miles away? “small world” is so true in Tiny Town.

We waited in line for hamburgers and tried to listen to the old-time (white bearded) man singing, telling stories, and using implements from what I suppose was a ranching museum to illustrate points in his tale. Some of them he had made into musical instruments. it seemed like the kind of thing I ought to enjoy but he wasn’t quiet close enough or loud enough for me to hear clearly so I split my time between a slight obsession about the food (should I get more chips? why didn’t they have desert?) and admiring the large trees and appreciating their shade.

a self-proclaimed introvert who had answered the phone when both Joyce and I had called him (and when we arrived he let us know he was not letting the bird watching group leave without us, very sweet) showed us a table full of birds, many of which he had carved, and we took and failed the test matching them to their nests. Some had eggs, either “successful” (hatched) or “predated”.

some students then answer questions about the reptiles they had caught and put in small temporary exhibits and I ignored the snakes (hands over ears, not listening!) but checked out the turtles, “mud puppies” and lizards.

Best part of the day I would have voted to miss had I not known how much Joyce wanted to go – a ride on an air boat. they had two of them and the line was short so I making the effort to be good-natured about it when I really wanted to leave (although not as much as I want to, usually!) but the ride was SO fun I’m glad we did it. wheee!

Last thing was stopping at some rich man’s lodge for his open house (where we met the same people who had gone bird watching, including the guide. I said “there’s a pig” when it was a three-legged dog which was especially funny since on the drive I had said “look how small that calf is” when it was a goat. ha, ha!

the lodge was fairly incredible (and more so because it was a surprise) and the free food was fantastic. wish I’d skipped the burger at Crescent Lake.

the weather was perfect, too, warm, a little hot, all sun, nice breeze. could not have been better.

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Everything Happens For A Reason

I don’t believe this. I think sometimes things happen for a reason but usually? things are just random. Or, the reason doesn’t have anything to do with me.

People want to believe that none of it is random because it’s a comforting world view: somebody, something, is in charge and – here’s the deal – it really matter to them what happens to you. You specifically, my little flower bud. You down to the cellular level or, more excitingly, you down to the level of  if making that second run to Starbucks means you meet somebody the Universe really wants you to meet and start making babies with.

I just realized what I’m saying here is that I believe in God, but I don’t think God micromanages. What I want to be comforted by, as a grown up, is not that somebody else has thought this all out but that there are infinite possibilities out there. Think of that!

But I think acting as if “things happen for a reason” can be a very useful attitude. Then when random crap happens you have the right perspective to get something out of it. “What can I learn from this” is always a productive  mindset.

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The Lonely Donut

It’s been too long to remember but I think this started as a dream and has now segued into a day-dream. The Lonely Donut is a cafe I owe and run (singlehandedly?) in the middle of nowhere. I think maybe it’s rural Nevada.

It’s all about the baking, is what it is. Every morning I start at some outlandish hour (4 am? is that early enough?) and the biggest draw for the regulars is fresh caramel rolls. The place smells like heaven and I work hard but am done by shortly after noon or something like that.

I don’t have a body that would be happy with a big ass dose of sugar anymore but the idea of a bakery – the smells and the work – it has a big homey appeal I embrace some days.

The cafe part I can take or leave, sometimes I enjoy serving a couple with a bratty boy who treats me crappy on the theory I am only a waitress. Since I own the place I can have all kinds of fun while the couple becomes increasingly angry and want to get me fired. HA!

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I looked under Nursing Home here and I wrote ONE tiny thing. I remember tons of things…that I guess never got out of my head. 

*note to self* it it is still in your head, it isn’t writing!!

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