Sing Along if You Know the Words

By , April 29, 2012 12:33 pm
This is me wearing one of Abby's hair extensions. Everything is beautiful, right?

This is me wearing one of Abby's hair extensions. Everything is beautiful, right?

A little bit of childhood propaganda, modified to be a bit more realistic…

Everything is beautiful
In its own way
Nazis and the Holocaust
Smallpox and the Black Plague…

Also, a friend of mine is shooting a wedding this weekend, so I am brandishing my only wedding joke…

Did you hear about the two antennas who got married?

The ceremony wasn’t all that good, but the reception was fantastic!

There is nothing as beautiful "in its own way" as the oozing, inflamed itch caused by poison ivy.

There is nothing as beautiful "in its own way" as the oozing, inflamed itch caused by poison ivy.

Out of the Drought, Phase Two

By , April 29, 2012 9:53 am
According to the internet, this is a ichneumonid wasp. They don't sting and are easy to kill, but are not nearly as delicate as the crane flies we experienced last month.

According to the internet, this is a ichneumonid wasp. They don't sting and are easy to kill, but are not nearly as delicate as the crane flies we experienced last month.

As spring rolls along, we continue to get abundant rain. In March we had tall early weeds like henbit and wild onions, and an invasion of crane flies. Now with the passing of April, we have fields of wildflowers and an invasion of harmless small red wasps.

The wind was up the last couple of days, as are everyone’s allergies. I for one have been suffering very itchy eyes, particularly when I work outside, which I do a lot in the spring. I’ve been lucky so far not to have terrible sneeze attacks, but that might be right around the corner. Adding to the irony is that all the flowers in our little world are beautiful and smell amazing.

Also, last year I felt I had mostly won the war against the poison ivy here in the patch, and while that’s mostly still true, I am spotting some, including some in the crotch of the pear tree, and it may be time to make the rounds with the weed killer. While I was on assignment today, I schooled a nice couple on the poison ivy in their back yard, and they had an impressive stand of it.

This is poison ivy growing in the crotch of Dorothy's pear tree. I have no problem with nature making a living, unless it interferes with my own living. This small stand of green has the potential to completely ruin ten days of my life.

This is poison ivy growing in the crotch of Dorothy's pear tree. I have no problem with nature making a living, unless it interferes with my own living. This small stand of green has the potential to completely ruin ten days of my life.

Sawdust in My Hair

By , April 24, 2012 8:03 pm

Abby was exhausted when she got home, and fell asleep in her recliner right away, with her bear shoes propped high up on the “green thing,” which my friends in Norman always called an LBUA, or Leaner Backer Upper Againster.

Abby naps in her recliner tonight, with the dogs in her lap.

Abby naps in her recliner tonight, with the dogs in her lap.

So I went to mow, but first I wanted to cut at least some of the dead branches off of the old apple tree in Dorothy’s yard, since I saw her today (to get her column, which she has decided to start writing again – yay!), and she gave me her blessing. We think last summer’s heat and drought are the cause of so many trees being dead now.

While I was cutting off these huge branches, I noticed Buxton the Goat had joined me. Odd, I thought. He doesn’t have opposable thumbs, so he couldn’t have opened the gate. I must have left it open, but that had to have been yesterday, so he only came out of the back yard when he saw me. I walked over to him as he ate leaves off of one of Abby’s Rose-of-Sharon and said, “Come on.” He followed completely, and surprisingly, obediently, through the gate into the back yard. What a good boy.

The whole time I was chain sawing and mowing and dragging branches, I had the Third Eye Blind song Non-Dairy Creamer playing in my head. In particular, I kept hearing, “They call it KFC ’cause it’s not really chicken.” I get it, Stephan, but hey, both of those statements are wrong. They call it “KFC” because Americans are lazy and don’t like to say whole words. KFC was just easier. And while it’s not a paradigm of well-prepared chicken, it is actually chicken.

I finished my night by showering to get the sawdust out of my hair.

Buxton eats Rose-of-Sharon in the yard. After his obedient walk back home tonight, I rewarded him by brushing him and feeding him a big sprig of mimosa.

Buxton eats Rose-of-Sharon in the yard. After his obedient walk back home tonight, I rewarded him by brushing him and feeding him a big sprig of mimosa.

Watching Me Wax and Wane

By , April 23, 2012 1:26 am

Actual sign: jungle ice enter
What I read: uncle ice eater

Kermit the Stump says, "It's not easy being grey."

Kermit the Stump says, "It's not easy being grey."

Misheard: Two men were arrested after having their vaginas pierced.

Misheard: AT&T’s global douche farm.

Not technically misheard, but heard with a double take: Somebody turned over the ‘tater cart.

Not technically misheard, but still: Bethesda Naval Hospital. (Surprised they have hospitals just for your naval.)

Seal of approval? Why not the beaver of approval?

New drugs for erectile dysfunction: Pornalis and Boobagra.

M7 refers to Frozen Hippie Man as a “circulator of funk,” but while thinking about this, I thought, “funculator of circ.”

Tabloid Teasers (board game) answer, 1993: ”Swami makes living by bottling and selling ‘Farts of the World’ international odor canisters.”

Q. What do you call a teddy bear with a stone is his mouth? A. A cotton rocksucker.

Randall had a porcupine named “Vagina.”

Justihiable famicide.

1993: Woke from a dream in which I was given a new comb, to which I responded, “A genuine army neck-nake!”

This is an image of my goat, Buxton (circled in red), viewed from low earth orbit.

This is an image of my goat, Buxton (circled in red), viewed from low earth orbit.

 

Peach Lifting for Skinny Guys

By , April 22, 2012 6:52 pm
This is where the chain saw chain hit me when it flew off while I was cutting down Dorothy's old peach tree. Abby wasn't too happy when she heard about it, but I think it's frackin' cool.

This is where the chain saw chain hit me when it flew off while I was cutting down Dorothy's old peach tree. Abby wasn't too happy when she heard about it, but I think it's frackin' cool.

I have a big hiking trip coming up, and it’s with some of my fitter friends, so I’ve been trying to push myself hard when I work on the patch. Today I…

  • Carried all the peach branches and stumps, which I created when I cut down Dorothy’s oldest peach tree, which was dead, to the brush pile.
  • Mowed the front yard with the push mower.
  • Mowed under the Rose-of-Sharon bushes lining the driveway with the push mower, which is among the most strenuous activities I ever do.
  • Mowed a large portion of the “golf course” on the riding mower.
  • Dug out the “hump” of earth left behind after removing the two dead Rose-of-Sharon with the chain saw last week.
  • Moved the earth, which filled seven wheelbarrows, to a low spot near the garden.
  • Put the chain back on my chain saw – it had flown off when I was cutting down the peach tree.

It was insanely nice weather out, so I had a great time. I want to keep pushing myself as much as possible so I’ll be in decent shape for my trip.

The grass in our pastures, like this in the north forty, is lush and healthy, since unlike last year, we are getting ample rainfall this spring.

The grass in our pastures, like this in the north forty, is lush and healthy, since unlike last year, we are getting ample rainfall this spring.

Death and All of His Friends

By , April 20, 2012 4:09 pm

“No I don’t wanna battle from beginning to end 
I don’t wanna cycle, recycle revenge
I don’t wanna follow death and all of his friends.” -Coldplay

On a few previous occasions I wrote about deaths of friends, like Jeff and Debbie. I have not written until now about the death of Kathy. One reason for this is that her 1994 death seemed more private, somehow, than the deaths of Jeff and Debbie in 1982.

I remember when I heard about Kathy’s death. I was in the newsroom in Ada when Michael called. He told me in his usual roundabout way, saying (quoted from my journal), “Are you sitting down? The police are still searching for the person who had last contact with the deceased Kathy.”

As I write about it now and re-read her journal, I feel sad. Her life was full of pain and longing, yet she was, mostly unknown to me, in love with me. Her loneliness, though, as much as she cursed it, was mostly her own construct. I found it difficult to reach her, and even when I was with her, she kept a high wall between us. There wasn’t any way I could have prevented her death. Even if I had called her on the phone that night in 1994, it would only have delayed her inevitable self-destruction.

I came to Norman to be with my friends on that day. When I arrived at Anna and David‘s place, I found David had written “Thanatos” on the chalk board in their kitchen to commemorate the event.

My own commemoration of this untimely death is the publication of Kathy’s journal in my “short fiction” section. It provides an insight into a mind and soul profoundly and desperately unhappy, yet yearning to love and live, and it serves as a reminder that there are still those among us whose hearts are dark and damaged, and might, if only for a moment, find comfort in our presence.

Another Fun Fact

By , April 19, 2012 11:20 am
Did You Know?
When you make little pleasure noises when urinating in a public restroom, you are being a disgusting pervert, and you need to shut up.

The Reanimated Corpse of Marcia Brady

By , April 17, 2012 9:17 am

Dream: I am in a bar with Brady Bunch father Robert Reed. He is talking to a parrot who gradually becomes a cat, then a dead cat that he has reanimated. The bottom half of the cat is in a mason jar. As the conversation progresses, it becomes clear from subtle clues in the cat’s language, particularly its correct use of prepositional phrases, that it has “thawed,” and is, in fact, Brady Bunch actress Maureen McCormick. We at the bar rejoice that she has been successfully reanimated. I am next in an Episcopal church, where Reed is apparently intending to marry Marcia’s reanimated corpse. Our dogs are there, but as Abby and I go to look for them and clean up their poo, the ceremony starts. I rush to take the dogs to the car and get a camera. When I return to the church, the attendees are performing extreme tuxedo planking.

Double-click, Read the News, Listen to a Song = Instant Dream

By , April 16, 2012 4:11 pm

After listening to M83′s haunting song You Appearing, reading that another Bee Gee brother had a kinked colon, hugging Jamie twice, and double-clicking a picture of former photography student Toni Pyrum in preparation for teaching tonight, I laid down for a nap and bam!

Toni Pyrum smiles playfully for my camera in my class three years ago. It's a shame time travel couldn't save her.

Toni Pyrum smiles playfully for my camera in my class three years ago. It's a shame time travel couldn't save her.

Dream: I receive word that Toni Pyrum is being rushed to the hospital with abdominal cramps. After the ambulance goes by, I hear that she has died. Then I am with her at a cookout two hours earlier, where I take her aside and tell her that I am violating several important temporal laws by traveling back in time to try to save her. I beg her not to eat a hamburger, which she laughs off. I then hold her close and tell her, “You have to live. You represent all my friends at Ada High School.” This is very significant to me somehow. As she leaves the cookout and walks across the street to a pet shop, she doubles over in pain from abdominal cramps, and the scene of her being rushed off repeats itself.

When Jamie Roo Calls

By , April 15, 2012 4:11 pm
Jamie holds the diminutive Pentax Auto 110 today.

Jamie holds the diminutive Pentax Auto 110 today.

My long-time friend Jamie, her husband Ian, and a close friend of theirs came by today. Jamie had acquired a bag of photo gear about which she knew very little, and she wanted me to check it out. Afterwards, we gathered some weapons and went to the pond to shoot for a while, and we all had a great time.

I mention this not only because it had been a long time since I saw Jamie and her ilk, but also because one of the cameras she had was one I hadn’t seen in at least 20 years, the Pentax Auto 110 SLR. This tiny camera was the only one of its kind ever made, and while not a success, it represented and interesting precursor to today’s ultra-compact digital cameras and phones.

It was great to see Jamie again. As she was leaving, she threw her arms around me and said, “You give the best hugs.”

“The Shallow Drowned Lose Less Than We…”

By , April 15, 2012 3:02 am

In college my friends and I talked about what had “intrinsic” value versus what was artificial. What, we asked, had real value?

I thought of that recently as my wife watched an episode of Storage Wars, in which bidders vie for the contents of abandoned storage lockers. In one such locker was a box of Cabbage Patch dolls. For those of you who don’t remember, Cabbage Patch dolls were a collectors item in the late 1980s. In the episode of Storage Wars, the person who bought the storage unit threw the box of dolls on the ground and scoffed, “Once they were huge, now they’re nothing.”

The truth, of course, is that they were always nothing. Children didn’t really play with them, and parents and/or collectors surely must have been aware that they had little investment value in the long run. I recall photographing a long line of people outside a store in 1989, waiting to buy the newest doll. I thought to myself at the time, “What are they going to do with them?” The answer is that they are “collectable,” meaning that they will collect them, which really means they will simply buy and possess them, with the vague, unplanned hope of selling them in the distant future for a large sum of money.

There’s the rub. They guy who bought the storage locker threw away the dolls. But later in the episode, another buyer found some original 1977 Star Wars action figures, still in the containers in which they were purchased. Like the Cabbage Patch dolls, they were $.17 worth of plastic and $.10 worth of Indonesian labor, sold for $14.99 at TG&Y. Unlike the dolls, though, these action figures were appraised to be worth thousands of dollars.

Therein is a microcosm of our value system. Substance is often irrelevant, and image is very often everything.

Flash back with me to a typical night in college in the 45˚ winter mist, walking across the South Oval to get a midnight bite at Orin’s Fine Pizza. My friends and I are discussing the Universe, the nature of being, what is real: the very things we hoped would deepen and widen our consciousness. We pass people discussing infantile masturbation: which frat has the best parties, who drives cool cars, what’s on tv. We feel more important than they are. While that was undoubtedly a conceit, at least we thought about and talked about important things. At least we tried to be deep.

If you are deep and want to see how the shallow half lives, spy on a few of their conversations. Small minds talk about people, and they are all talking about people. Even now, I am talking about people, though I hope my saving grace is that I am talking about them as an abstraction.

Swimming the same deep water as you is hard
“The shallow drowned lose less than we”
you breathe the strangest twist upon your lips
“And we shall be together…”  ~The Same Deep Water as You by The Cure

We're all just one self-referencial self-portrait away from complete irrelevance.

We're all just one self-referencial self-portrait away from complete irrelevance.

Rev Uh Lay Shun

By , April 14, 2012 6:54 pm

“Reveal” is a verb, as in, “She will reveal her secret at the meeting in the morning.” The noun is “revelation,” as in, “I can’t wait to hear her revelation in the morning.” Just because Americans are too lazy too use four-syllable words instead of two-syllable words, or because we heard some celebrity say it on My Dick Built a House, doesn’t mean we have to mangle the language into dust every chance we get.

DNA: You Don’t Bring Me Flowers

By , April 14, 2012 12:41 pm

In this context, “DNA” means Does Not Apply, and what doesn’t apply in this case is the song You Don’t Bring Me Flowers by Neil Diamond and Barbara Streisand. Yes, I know that it is a sappy and musically homogenous, but when my iTunes shuffled to it the other day, I had to smile, because the tragic faded love about which they sang was not like my own marriage, and specifically that I do, in fact, bring Abby flowers all the time, and that there was a lovely rose next to her even as that song played.

I thought of it again today after Abby and I slept late. When she got up, I made coffee for her and heated up two of her famous cinnamon rolls. (Sidebar: in spite of wanting to freeze some because she made so many, they have proven so popular that we are almost out of them.) As I presented her breakfast to her, I noticed that the rose was wilting. I had noted while mowing yesterday that Dorothy’s iris and roses were flowering like I hadn’t seen in years. So Today I ran down and got Abby two beautiful specimens and put them in my mother’s purple vase for her. Good husband: 1, You Don’t Bring Me Flowers: 0.

I thought these two flowers together were amazingly beautiful. There are many more in Dorothy's garden.

I thought these two flowers together were amazingly beautiful. There are many more in Dorothy's garden.

Lost Horizon

By , April 14, 2012 12:41 pm

When I was ten, my family and I saw Lost Horizon at the Vaska theater in Lawton, Oklahoma. For former Lawtonians, the Vaska is a legendary landmark, and mention of it for them will surely stir some memories.

The film, which I found and started watching on YouTube over the past few days, is often regarded as one of the top 50 worst films of all time. It tells of travelers who find a hidden utopia, and shows their struggles with their desires, particularly their desires to sing terrible Burt Bacharach songs. The utopia depicted in the film is a little like an airport executive lounge or a suburban California country club, with everyone relaxing around card tables or potted plants. Internet reviews note that there are no blacks in Shagri-la, and most of the oriental people are silent and seem to do all the work, so really it’s a utopia for rich whites.

Sally Kellerman plays a character named Sally, a neurotic waif who hates her life back in the real world. Seconds after this screen shot, she bursts into song - and not a good one.

Sally Kellerman plays a character named Sally, a neurotic waif who hates her life back in the real world. Seconds after this screen shot, she bursts into song – and not a good one.

When we came out of the theater on that night in 1973, my sister and I were singing the songs, and thought that we had just seen a masterpiece, while mom and dad were probably rolling their eyes and talking about how they’d never get those two hours back.

While re-watching it over the last couple of days, I have to say that the music is mostly an embarrassment to my past, although I can kind of see how one or two of the pieces might have been catchy to a ten-year-old.

I vaguely remember as a child having something of a crush on Liv Ullmann, but now as I watch it, I find Sally Kellerman’s portrayal as a neurotic waif much more fetching. Of course as she gets happier and better-adjusted as the movie progresses, she gets less attractive. (How I managed to marry a non-neurotic woman remains a complete mystery.)

Also of note is this: why did anyone ever cast George Kennedy in any movies? He is one notch below Richard Anderson as Oscar Goldman in terms of talent, and rivals Ernest Borgnine in looks. His character builds an irrigation system to “improve” paradise, which in the long run would have the unintended consequence of making the inhabitants fat and lazy, but in 1973, that would be difficult to foresee.

Also also of note: John Gielgud as “Chang”? I suppose that in 1973 the world was desperately short of real oriental actors, so an English actor had to step up.

The saving grace of this experiment is that on YouTube, I can skim forward to skip all the songs. At the end of the day, it was a fun little blast from my past.

In addition to seeing "Lost Horizon" at the Vaska, we also saw one of those weird X-Files-esque "documentaries" that concluded that UFOs were attracted to Earth because they were annoyed by the vibrations from jet engines.

In addition to seeing “Lost Horizon” at the Vaska, we also saw one of those weird X-Files-esque “documentaries” that concluded that UFOs were attracted to Earth because they were annoyed by the vibrations from jet engines.

Morality within Atheism

By , April 14, 2012 11:30 am

I know this has been debated to death, so I won’t rehash the unpleasantness. I just want to iterate that this atheist behaves morally because it works.

“Oh, Live in the Country…”

By , April 10, 2012 9:21 pm
I wonder what's happening in the suburbs tonight.

I wonder what's happening in the suburbs tonight.

The Rules

By , April 8, 2012 6:58 pm

Rule #11: When a balloon pops, always say, “Oh, the humanity.”
Rule #66: Eat rendered koos koos.
Rule #12: Have a beer, neat.
Rule #98: It’s the porcupine apocalypse.
Rule #22: Wear a pleasant blouse.
Rule #7: Take as many naps as possible, preferably inside a tree hollowed out specifically for sleeping.
Rule #29: Always wipe front to back so you don’t get any crap on your under the butt nut hut.
Rule # 90: Remember that when you flip someone the bird, your middle finger is a little penis, and the fingers next to it are little testicles.
Rule #76: “Strap on no parts” backwards is “strap on no parts.” The same goes for “step on no pets” and “rise to vote, sir.”
Rule #16: If you work at a drive-through, on your last day say, “Welcome to the apocalypse, may I take your order?”
Rule #60: See at how many truly pointless things you can excel.
Rule #51: Don’t strain your god bone.
Rule #52: Empty your god bag.
Rule #9: Eat plenty of bitter grapes with huge, chewy seeds.
Rule #44: No gaping. Stare with dignity.
Rule #80: Crawl for all the right reasons.
Rule #77: Don’t fear the reeker.
Rule #2: Party on, Wayne.
Rule #69: Chicks with d!cks.
Rule #4: You should be ashamed of yourself.
Rule #50: Hide the past at all costs. If someone asks you about it, tell them you haven’t seen it.
Rule #4: If you write it, they will come.
Rule #92: Take vitamins instead of food, and vice versa.
Rule #70: Make up lyrics to news themes.
Rule #21: Gimme gimme gimme.
Rule #39: Hold your tongue and say “My father owns a shipyard.”
Rule # 76: There’s already a rule #76.
Rule #2: You’re not good enough.
Rule #95:Use only the kryptonite washcloth to cleanse your soul.

Some blog entries demand human sacrifice. This one demanded a pretentious self-portrait.

Some blog entries demand human sacrifice. This one demanded a pretentious self-portrait.

Cinnamon Rolls on a Rainy Easter

By , April 8, 2012 5:23 pm

Preface: I promise this is not going to turn into a food blog or a domestic life blog, and I assure you that if it begins to resemble The Pioneer Woman‘s blog in any way, I will suffocate myself with a pillow.

I was able to photograph Katy and Robert together during their short visit yesterday.

I was able to photograph Katy and Robert together during their short visit yesterday.

That said, it has rained since the middle of the night, it is cool and cloudy outside right now, and Abby has just spent most of the day making cinnamon rolls from scratch. I think she told me the recipe makes 50, but she claims we can freeze them.

Yesterday I worked just a half day. Robert visited in the middle of the afternoon, having picked up girlfriend Katy at the Dallas-Fort Worth airport for a whirlwind visit to Tulsa. They only stayed a few minutes, but it was nice to finally see Katy, who we had not actually met in person.

By evening as we got hungry, Abby had a hankering for beef stroganoff, so she made some for her, plus a little vegetarian dish for me that ended up a little like a pasta prima vera.

Abby naps now, exhausted from her kitchen toils.

For my own part, I am excited to say that I finally finished my “best of photojournalism” entry on my teaching blog. Check it out here.

Abby's cinnamon rolls cool in the kitchen. I tried a couple and they were great, despite the fact that I don't really have a sweet tooth.

Abby's cinnamon rolls cool in the kitchen. I tried a couple and they were great, despite the fact that I don't really have a sweet tooth.

Another Fun Fact

By , April 6, 2012 10:41 am
Did You Know?
Jonathan Boyce is largely credited with creating the scouting movement in America when, in 1910, he founded the “Boyce Scouts.” Since very few girls joined the organization in its early days, the name was changed to Boy Scouts of America. It wasn’t until two years later that girls had a similar organization, founded by Juliette Gordon Gyrlce.

The Rhapsody of Springtime

By , April 4, 2012 6:53 pm
The pond, which was completely gone last September, actually looks like a body of water again.

The pond, which was completely gone last September, actually looks like a body of water again.

It was another busy day for me at the news mill, but by evening Abby and I had settled in. A cold from that helped spawn tornadoes in the Dallas-Fort Worth area just 120 miles south of us, and thunderstorms here all day yesterday, finally passed late this afternoon, leaving cool evening temps and a perfectly clear sunset. I walked to the mailbox with a camera, as I am want to do, and made of a few images of this amazing spring night.

Assuming we don't get a late freeze, it looks like we'll have peaches this year.

Assuming we don't get a late freeze, it looks like we'll have peaches this year.

And by the Way, You’re Fired

By , April 4, 2012 10:29 am

“Today’s actions are an important next step toward a bold, new Yahoo! — smaller, nimbler, more profitable and better equipped to innovate as fast as our customers and our industry require. We are intensifying our efforts on our core businesses and redeploying resources to our most urgent priorities. Our goal is to get back to our core purpose — putting our users and advertisers first — and we are moving aggressively to achieve that goal,” said Scott Thompson, CEO of Yahoo, upon announcement of 2000 layoffs.

My Chances of Being Struck by Lightning…

By , April 2, 2012 7:26 pm
This is the first year my cherry trees, which I planted in 2007, have shown significant blossoms.

This is the first year my cherry trees, which I planted in 2007, have shown significant blossoms.

Today’s order of battle:

  • Woke up at 8 am feeling fully rested, with no desire to go back to sleep.

    This toad was evicted from the grass I tilled up in the garden this afternoon.

    This toad was evicted from the grass I tilled up in the garden this afternoon.

  • Mowed like it was the grasspocalypse, including Dorothy’s yards, the bar ditches, the golf course, the south forty, and our front yard.
  • Fired up the cranky tiller and tilled the entire garden thoroughly.
  • Increased my chances of being struck by lightning by photographing the yard, a toad, and my cherry blossoms as a thunderstorm approached.
  • Watched from the garage as a handsome thunderstorm rolled through Byng.

Of note: the tiller starts just fine, but, like a lot of airplane engines I flew over the years, does not like to start when it’s hot. Fortunately, I kept it running for the whole session. Also, if the warm weather holds, this could end up being an excellent season for peaches, cherries, and pears. I’m hoping to get the garden planted this week; I like to wait until April because I have lost crops to frost twice in recent years.

It was nice to be outside today, and now, as I prepare to have dinner, I am feeling exhausted.

This rainbow appeared briefly after the passage of a thunderstorm this evening.

This rainbow appeared briefly after the passage of a thunderstorm this evening.

Sunny Sunday, Mowing Monday

By , April 2, 2012 9:38 am
Gail, Ethel, Abby, Rachel, Aiden, and the Chihuahuas Max and Sierra visit two horses that are currently grazing Ethel's pasture.

Gail, Ethel, Abby, Rachel, Aiden, and the Chihuahuas Max and Sierra visit two horses that are currently grazing Ethel's pasture.

Abby and I went to her hometown, Ryan, Oklahoma, yesterday, to see her father’s widow Ethel. We brought her lunch, KFC as usual, and she gave us cookies and cream ice cream (I know, “cream” twice, but whatever.) After lunch we were visited by Abby’s sister Gail, Gail’s daughter Rachel, and Rachel’s kids Ally and Aiden. We brought along one of our printers, the one that scans and copies, so Abby could copy a bunch of family recipes, which she, Gail and I did with assembly-line precision.

I even got a nap.

Abby seemed to be feeling better than she had for months, and it was both a relief and an inspiration. Maybe, just maybe, she is finally on the mend from what could only be called the Winter of Sickness.

Our drive home as the sun went down was wonderful, with the light on the drought-recovering countryside nothing short of spectacular, and Abby was perky and chatty. It was a great day with my wife.

Rain is forecast for tonight and tomorrow, so I hope to mow a bunch, then maybe dig in the garden, assuming I can get the cranky tiller to start. Either way, I will be outside today, filling myself with springtime.

A sunstar shines through our front door peephole this morning. I don't see this often, since it only happens a couple of weeks in the spring and fall, and Abby and I are often at work when it occurs. It makes a rainbow circle at the end of the hall.

A sunstar shines through our front door peephole this morning. I don't see this often, since it only happens a couple of weeks in the spring and fall, and Abby and I are often at work when it occurs. It makes a rainbow circle at the end of the hall.

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