Sqwahr

Spring Is Coming

2010-03-07T01:44:01Z

The worst of winter has been felt

And we have all begun to melt.

Sap is rising and the spirit swells;

Time to peck at our frozen shells.

A Little North Of Here Is Finished!

2010-02-20T00:50:44Z

The story is done! I started it in January of '09 and wrote 28 chapters furiously in two-three months, not knowing where it was going. I took a break until this January and the ending appeared in the distance. Seven more chapters and it finished itself.

Please visit A Little North Of Here and enjoy my awful art and earnest prose attempt.

Thank you very much.

A Savory Hobby

2009-12-16T02:02:04Z

Alex and I have entered a new area of interest. We are preserving vegetables by brining and fermentation, as distinct from pickling by vinegar. It is an absorbing pursuit.

We are both of inventive aptitude, and our experience and training have helped us to happily solve problems. He discovered the air-lock mechanism (which I once used to make beer, but had forgotten). I invented a baffled and partitioned container that is a great improvement on the open-crock method.

Both of us are trying different combinations of veggies. We've done pickles and cabbage and onions and jalapeno peppers and brussel sprouts and cauliflower and carrots...and I'm sure he's doing something right now he hasn't told me about.

Interestingly, there is an upcoming event involving fermented cabbage that makes both of us nervous. An old, elderly friend of German descent has invited us to an annual Knights of Columbus dinner. It is men only. It will be a meal of Polish sausage and homemade sauerkraut and two beers per man. The tradition goes back many, many years, and an invitation is a rare honor.

So why be nervous? Both of us know, from past experience with kraut, what will happen shortly after the delicious repast...we will experience catharsis, and it will be persuasive and insistent.

I've already begun polishing (it should probably be Polish-ing) our excuses for avoiding expected invitations to post-dinner card parties. Somehow, we must convey, and I don't think our hosts will be unempathetic, that we'll need our, um, space to digest and appreciate the irresistible ethnic meal, and won't be able to concentrate on right or left bowers this particular evening.

A New Word, A Nice Word, An Unusual Word

2009-11-25T01:25:46Z

I am reading, 'The Botany of Desire', which proposes evolutionary links between some plants (apples, tulips, spuds, etc.) and us. It is very interesting, and I've learned a new word:

concatenation

Look it up! Find ways to use it! You'll impress your family and friends at dinners and over kool-aid!

Waiting for the passing...

2009-11-21T01:44:13Z

Sorry for the depressed mood, but we are somberly waiting for a grand gentleman to pass, and this is an impression of the sad time his family is experiencing.

Looking Into the Abyss

2009-11-14T14:08:16Z

Clydus, Eleventh Emperor of the Chosen Realm, Arbiter of Life and Death, was facing death himself, and this churlish twerp was not making him happy.

The Apprentice of Medicine was demanding that Clydus swallow a bitter and stinking medicinal draft. Demanding!

Clydus let his head fall to his right, knowing that Bork would note the movement and understand his squinting signal. Bork should know the signal...he had been Personal Bodyguard to the Emperor for what?...forty years?

Bork moved behind the impertinent Apprentice and there was a whisking sound as his blade scythed the offender's head from his shoulders. Clydus smiled weakly in approval. His aged ears were still able to hear the sodden bouncing of the severed head. Bork might also be old, but he was still quite capable of decapitation.

"Bork," Clydus whispered.

Bork moved closer to his Master.

"Bork, this may have been the last execution that I will ever order."

"No, my Liege," Bork responded in a deep and sadly encouraging voice. "There will be many more who fall before you. You are the Arbiter!"

Clydus smiled and slowly patted Bork's scarred forearm. He would miss the big lug.

"Clyde? Clyde! Wakey, wakey! Time for your pills!" the nurse demanded. Demanded!

Clyde opened his eyes and re-entered his nondream realm. Oh, for a ticket out of this foul nursing home existence. Clyde let his head fall to his right, knowing that Bork wouldn't be there.

Thank Goodness for the Goodness of Autumn

2009-09-27T00:40:52Z

The temperature has relaxed and the misty rains have come. They are both welcome. It was a good Saturday to visit the farmers' market and other produce stands in our sphere.

We bought peaches and squash and radishes and apples and green beans and onions and pumpkins and tomatoes (alas, our personal garden could not provide enough tomatoes this year) and raspberries and local strawberries (which is a first because a farmer experimented with ever-bearing) and a bar of soap. Michele was very taken with the soap booth.

After a tasty lunch and a satisfying nap and a walk with the dogs, I went into our little woods to re-establish a path that we have intentionally neglected since adding Jackie to our family. Buzz has always been manageable, if not enthusiastic to our directions. We have great memories of him on the woods' path, including the time a deer jumped right over him.

Jackie, however, was not tractable from the second she joined us. Walking on our pleasant woodsy path, which ran close to two roads, was too dangerous for the undisciplined little female Jack Russell. So we let the path grow up and become impassable for ten years.

Now Jackie is old and cooperative. So I am working on our old path. The first phase was clearing away trees with the chainsaw. No dogs allowed for that part. The second phase was clearing the downed debris away. The dogs were allowed to hang about for that activity, and they did well. In fact the dogs and I stayed out until after dark for this exercise. I did the hauling, and they did the sniffing and digging and staying close. It reinforced my decision to trust them to stay nearby on the upcoming path.

The dogs and I happily entered the walkout basement to our house. I wiped them off and took off my sandals. Together we went upstairs to see what Michele was doing. Michele, in turn, wondered what we had been doing. I explained. She nodded with acceptance, knowing that the dogs and I are prone to rolling in nature.

"Throw that shirt down the chute," was all she said.

I went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Goodness, I was dirty, and goodness, I felt good.

Water Babies De-Mystified

2009-09-25T13:30:00Z

The story, Water Babies, by Charles Kingsley, has pulled at me with slender, almost invisible strands of nostalgia. I must have been exposed to a copy when I was a young child. I connect with the fanciful illustrations. They are slightly, hauntingly familiar.

So it was understandable that I pursued Water Babies illustrations for our new Art Prints For Kidz website. This pursuit has helped me to learn a lot about these books (there are many versions). First, they are expensive. Second, the art can be alluring and intriguing. Finally, the story is rather different than you might expect. Well, at least different that I might have expected. I finally read the thing and found out.

Water Babies is a tedious, long-winded, frequently harsh, frequently intolerant of abuse toward the innocent, and infrequently clever morality tale. Some of it impressed me. Much of it confounded me. It comes across as pompous and self-congratulatory. I cannot imagine children a hundred years ago, when it was written, let alone today's electronic-driven kids, enjoying or understanding it.

Here is a very short outline: Tom, a young, abused, godless and ignorant chimney sweep, accidentally enters the bedroom of a wealthy young girl when he drops down the wrong chimney. She screams bloody murder, and sooty Tom runs away with the estate's workforce in pursuit. He eludes them by going over rough territory with a mysterious Irish woman shadowing him. Tom develops a terrible thirst and a terrible desire to be clean, so he lays down in a stream and becomes a "water baby", which is a euphemism for a youth who has died tragically. He is reborn as a small baby with an Elizabethan collar of gills. He eventually makes it out to the sea with unseen fairies protecting him, and eventually joins with thousands of other water babies. He is a prankish tad, and encounters situations and forces that show him he must do what he doesn't like and behave properly if he is going to progress to being a man. The young girl he frightened, Ellie, coincidentally falls by the seaside, hits her head and becomes a water baby. The Irish woman turns out to be one of two fairy queen sisters who are guiding him toward a proper adulthood. One fairy queen is responsible for punishing those who do ill, and the other is responsible for encouraging correct behavior through loving mothering. Oh, and we are encouraged to wash with plenty of cold water, as it is the English way. Oh, yes, and there are many entreaties to be gentle and just to the innocent and the defenseless.

I give Kingsley credit for a long and complicated story. I also credit him with causing a great deal of fascinating art.

Here's to you Charles...you followed your own advice and worked hard to accomplish a difficult task. I may not understand much of it, although I see the points (be upstanding, kind and a proper Englishman), and I admire the effort.

But the little boy in me isn't sure he likes having his eyes opened to what this story is actually about; growing up and being a responsible adult. I preferred ignorant innocence. And now I am getting a little whiff of self-irony. How about you?

We were three minutes back from the veterinarian, and...

2009-09-22T11:55:45Z

"Don, Don, Don!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

That was when I first heard of the conflict. And, now, I shall hand the narrative to my lovely, frantic, wife:

I'm not frantic now, but BOY, I sure was Saturday. We had just picked up our dogs, Jackie and Buzz, from the kennel where they had spent the last 24 hours.

When we got into the house with them, both dogs made their usual bee line for the back yard door. I let them out, going into the yard with them to open up the 'playground', the area that we left wild, but fenced, just for them. They can dig and dig and sniff and lounge, it is there for them...I checked for squirrels, didn't see any, so opened the gate.

And away they ran....surprisingly quiet, was the thought that ran through my brain...then they stopped, and started to sniff and run around a tree. I saw nothing, so turned to go back to the house. But then, I heard the excited yip, then another, and turned back into the yard.

They saw something, or thought they saw something...I walked up the path, not slowly, not fast, talking to them and telling them (ha!) that there was nothing there. But then, my eyes started to take it in, but my brain was saying NOOOOO. It was a woodchuck, groundhog, a large problem!

He was in a smallish tree, a Sumac, and he was having a very hard time hanging on as both dogs were jumping at the tree, shaking it, making few sounds, just a few feet below the rotund little animal. I watched for maybe 2 seconds, and the groundhog fell. I couldn't watch as both dogs jumped on it, and I turned away, running and yelling for Don. There was NOTHING I could do. I knew better than to intervene. Don had told me of woodchuck experiences gone bad, and with 2 Jack Russell terriers and a wild animal writhing behind me, I figured this could turn into one of those times.

I got to the house and opened the door and yelled as loud as I could. He was right there in his shop, but had water running and couldn't hear. I shouted, "The dogs have a woodchuck, on the ground!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The air started to change color as he ran past me and grabbed a walking stick. I followed, but stayed by the gate into the playground, and from that spot I couldn't see anything but I could hear. He was shouting at the dogs to let go (!!) especially Buzz, and I'm being kind by saying shouting. I could see that Jackie had let go and was running around away from the scene and back into it.

Then I was called........Oh...........Oh............Yuck!!!!!!!!!!!!! Of course, I ran over as Don was now shouting at me to grab Buzz, and really, I didn't want to...but I struggled through the underbrush and got behind Buzz. Don was on one knee with the walking stick holding the woodchuck down, Buzz trying his best to stay away from me as he continued his grisly hold on some part of the animal. I had a hard time getting my hands on him, but when I did, I pulled and lifted him at the same time and he came away from it rather easily.

But twenty pounds of squirming, wriggling, panting male dog still wanted more of the woodchuck. Buzz was hard to keep a hold on through rutted, holey terrain. I hung onto him with maternal fervor, and we finally got through the gate. I put Buzz down, closed the gate and turned back for Jackie.

This is never going to end, I felt. I was afraid Jackie would now go for the woodchuck because Buzz was not there. A bloody attack is about the only time she defers to him, and now he wasn't there.

Unexpectedly, Jackie didn't want to worry the the woodchuck further! Don continued to hold it. It was easily 15 pounds. Jackie continued to run up closely to see what was happening, but then turned and scooted away as I tried to grab her. If I got within 6 feet of her she darted in another direction. Finally I stopped, flushed and wrathful. I addressed her with MOTHER'S voice, and she listened.

She saw Buzz, and went to the gate.........and stayed, as I had been asking. I opened the gate, put her through, followed and shouted back to Don that I had them both. My job was done.

Now, back to Don.

Okay, Don here. The dogs were boiling over the woodchuck when I arrived, biting and jerking and mauling as it curled and tried to defend itself. I waded in with my staff, eventually (in perhaps fifteen seconds that seemed far, far longer) pinning the woodchuck on his back, with my staff across his throat. My goal was to immobilize him so he couldn't bite the dogs. I looked constantly at his teeth. The uppers were half an inch long, the lowers were over an inch; bad news chompers if they were put to use.

Woodchucks are bad news with or without those terrible teeth. They burrow under foundations and cause serious problems. Normally, I leave them alone if they stay away from the house, but this one (and he was big) had climbed a five foot chain-link fence to get into trouble. I didn't want him to come back and I didn't want him to suffer slowly with whatever injuries the dogs had inflicted. So I leaned on my staff.

Now the big pine tree in the playground has another source of nutrients buried between its roots. It has been some time since the last of thirteen raccoons nurtured it. It is a very healthy tree.

To Knit Up The Raveled Sleeve of Care

2009-09-21T00:46:19Z

To snore, to snore, to sleep no more...

That's not Shakespeare. It is us. We have entered the wedded stage of fatty-hubby snoring. I, the once handsome, slim and muscled male, have become what I once loathed. My alert wife now cautions me to stop referring to offenders as, 'Fat-xxxed jerks,' because I myself have a belly, meaning that I am calling the kettle black.

And so, after a few years of denying and then accepting and then dealing with snoring, we went to the Sleep Disorder Clinic. This had become a problem and a concern. We weren't sleeping together anymore. We were trading nights in the guest room, because two nights in a row on that mattress hurt our backs. It was not good on many levels.

So, we went to the Sleep place. And Michele shared her observations about my sleeping. I sat and looked clueless. So would you! Nobody knows how they sleep like their sleepless mate knows how they sleep.

"He stops breathing."

"And then does he gasp?"

"Yes."

"We should do a sleep study."

"Okay."

I will spare you the lengthy details and descriptions, including the 29 (no exaggeration) wires they hooked to me, or the report that indicated I had 45+ apnea events per hour, or.....

So now I wear a little face mask as I sleep, and the mask is attached to a CPAP machine (Continuous Positive Airway Pressure), which pushes a constant pressure of air up my nose and down my throat, and that air keeps my soft palate from dropping down into my old throat and making me snore.

And you know what? I sleep much better. I really don't mind the mask. I sleep on my back and on my side. And I sleep deeper and better. Do I wake up refreshed? No, I can't say I do, but I am probably more rested than before. And my heart is working less, and I am sure to be less likely for a heart-attack.

Do I have regrets? One. Kissing and snuggling are less spontaneous. On the other hand, I get to sleep with my wife every night.

That was Don telling you his side of the sleep apnea experience, and now this is Michele, the spouse.

Everything Don told you is true. We went through many nights when sleep was elusive for both of us. It was getting to where I wasn't looking forward to a good night's sleep because there never was a good night's sleep. But most importantly, I was worried about Don and how his sleep pattern looked to me. Not good.

So we were right in going to the sleep doctor, Don going through the sleep study, and getting used to the sleep machine. Don says it didn't take two weeks to get used to sleeping with a mask on his face, something he thought he would be loath to do. NOT.

The machine itself is not large, about the size of a professional size football. You get a soft sided case that it fits in, so you can take it with you for overnight trips. The case is maybe a foot square. The machine is quiet, something I wondered about...Was I trading one kind of noise for another? No. Thank goodness. There is plenty of tubing so the user can turn over without getting tangled.

Don takes care of it, rinsing it out because it has a built in humidifier for easier breathing in cooler weather. All in all, it is surprisingly simple to make it a part of both of our lives. And because of the CPAP, it will be a part of our lives for a lot longer.

As for the kissing and snuggling, at first I didn't want to disturb him if he was asleep. And he didn't want to be disturbed, either. Now, it's OK. Putting the mask on and off has become second nature, and he doesn't mind doing it. No, he doesn't mind at all.

Herky-Jerky

2009-09-16T00:45:05Z

Today I read in the NY Times that the Pakistani Army is suspected of executing Taliban supporters in the Swat Valley that was seized and abused by the Taliban until the Pakistan Army pushed the Taliban out.

There is also the probable eye-for-an-eye retribution killing of the Taliban by the locals who were abused (killed, tortured, coerced, etc. etc.) during the Taliban's occupation.

American liberals are concerned that this brutality on the part of the Pakistani Army may taint our military's relationship with them.

HUH?!!

What the heck is going on here? The Pakistanis are killing the enemy. We are killing the enemy. Killing the enemy is good. The enemy is rabid, underhanded, cruel, brutal, ruthless, human-shielding, furtive, and WANTS TO KILL MORE AMERICANS IN AMERICA!

We are living in a mixed-up whirled.

The following is my poetic attempt to express my grasp of the situation in Afghanistan and its environs:

In the land of the Loya Jirga
The women wear the burka.
It's as different as Mars
From this world of ours,
And that's why this limerick just ain't gonna worka.

Belated Birthday Girl, Jackie

2009-09-12T02:25:06Z

Eight days ago Jackie our female Jack Russell turned 10 years old. It is so hard to believe she is that old. Time with her and Buzz has flown by. Each year, day by day, seems special because they are still with us, and still very active.

Jackie wasn't feeling well on her birthday. She has a chronic condition that flared up badly, something she's lived with since she was a puppy. Poor girl is incontinent, and needs a medication we give her twice a day. Jackie is older now, so the meds hadn't been working very well. It took awhile but she is now under control once more, with another med added to her weekly routine (she doesn't get the second med each day, but every 3 days). And both dogs have arthritis, which is helped by glucosamine for dogs, but now Jackie needs a boost. So she gets coated aspirin, a reduced mg. dosage, as she is a small little girl.

Here are some pictures of Jackie's first day with us at 7 1/2 months, and again about three months later. That is the one of her smiling...a wonderful sight after being with us for three months. And shortly after she finally started smiling, she found out about the pleasure of digging! Buzz showed her how, boy did he show her!

Jackie's first photo at 7 1/2 moths

Buzz and Jackie's first photo together. Buzz, on the left, is 2 1/2. Jackie
is 7 1/2 months.

The left photo is right as Jackie came into the basement, from digging with Buzz. He looked just as dirty! Now for the fun part for us...giving her a bath. The right photo was after I discovered Jackie is part retriever. I threw a ball, and she immediately went after it, and we were off, learning her most favorite game for the next 9+ years. And you can see she was very happy about that. Notice her pink spot on her nose. It took years, but it got smaller and smaller, until it vanished. I thought it looked very feminine.

This is Jackie today, eight days after her Sept. 3 birthday. Happy Birthday, Sweetie! She has to be understood to love her, and I think we do both.

Jackie is watching my hand because I am bribing her with a treat, to get her to sit still. We have a game we play that was recommended to us by Buzz's breeder, Jodi. In order to get a dog to look at you so you can give the dog directions, you use treats, and as they stare at a treat, and you don't give it to them, they will glance your way. You give the treat at the first glance. Gradually you have the dog 'hold' the glance longer and longer, until they are still and staring bullets through your eyes! She is excellent at the 'game', so much so that that was all she would do as I tried to get her to look at the treat and not me! Her eyes reflect the light so much, I needed her to look away. It was fun, she liked the challenge even though she didn't understand NOT looking, and I got her to do her job. When we first got Jackie, she would not make eye contact. You can't teach a dog if they don't look at you!

Jackie

Tickling and Pickling

2009-09-09T00:37:58Z

We had silly, home-made songs when our kids were young. Rewardingly, they still remember them!

One song had the following verse;
                              'Kiss me quick and don't you tickle,
                              Or I won't give you a pickle, no....
                              Oh no, no, no.'

On reflection, that sounds a little kinky, which it wasn't. We like pickles in this family. There were more verses that rhymed fickle and nickle, and bicker and snicker (bar), and so on. But anyways, the point is that we liked pickles, even then.

So, here we are in the present, and it is delightful to learn more about pickling.   We found an interesting recipe for green tomato relish, or chow-chow, on the internet. This was handy, because we had two 30 degree nights and needed to harvest the tomatoes before they froze. Much of the premature harvest was green.
While looking forward to the maturation of our green tomato efforts, I learned of something called 'sun pickles'. You mix a brine, add dill and alum and garlic, insert sliced, washed little cukes, and set the jarred concoction out in the elements for three days.

The sun pickles have had their feral adventure, and will now be resting and working in refrigeration for a while before they achieve their highest levels of pickleness. I snuck a taste while they were still warm, and was impressed already.
Seldom one to wither when I can be excessive, I made a little extra brine and plunked in several late season, slightly sorry radishes. They are a cool weather crop, and don't show their best at summer's end, but....

After only a day, the absorbent radishes were salty, crispy (from the alum) and savory. I put the jar in the extra 'fridge, which is in our basement laundry room. One consequence of the radish experiment was revealed when I later returned to the laundry room after spooning a portion of the radishes into a weekend lunch-sampler bowl. An area within thirty feet of the 'fridge smelled like the hallway after onion-eating Uncle Fred exits the half-bath, squeezing a well-read newspaper under his arm, and holding a mug emptied of leaded coffee in his fist.

The memory of Uncle may have been nostalgic, but it wasn't nice. I turned a fan on and diluted the fumes in the lower level.

There is another consequence of the pickling process. Michele no longer automatically assumes the source of pungent scents to immediately be me. Now she inquires what I am eating before suggesting remedies, such as being careful of the wind direction before opening containers, and promising to mind how I face toward or away from her during the coming night's slumber. Very considerate of her.

Emerging

2009-09-04T01:52:21Z

If you remember some very early entries on this site then you will know that the Beesley girls (Michaela, Carrie, and now Lily) LOVE nature. Anything that has to do with good ol' Mother Earth captures our girls' attention.

This evening Alex and I were attempting to get the girls into the car for a quick trip to the library. We have experienced over and over that nothing ever happens quickly at our house! Purse on my shoulder, library bag in hand, Lily on my hip, and keys in the door I was ready to head out. Alex was following with the diaper bag (can't leave home without that!). We were ready!

Wait...where are Carrie and Michaela?! We told them to get into the car but as usual they were running about the yard chasing moths, exploring ant mounds, inspecting a spider web that was built at some point during the day right under my cement bench (mental note...take that down before I sit on there again!), and doing anything but getting into the car.

One more call out to them and suddenly we hear almost in unison, "Come quick! It's a cicada hatching from its skin! Mom! Dad!"

Well, checking our Sycamore tree in the front yard for cicada skins has become routine at our house. It is not unusual to find at least one skin during the search. The girls then delicately pick the skin off the tree to examine it closer. Sometimes the skin gets hung back on the tree and sometimes it makes its way into the house.

Let me tell you, I am no longer startled when I find crushed dried up bugs while cleaning the house. They always turn out to be cicada skins that the girls wanted to keep for some reason or another and then forget about only leaving them for me to discover some weeks later!

Tonight was the first time any of us have actually been able to witness the cicada fly coming out of the hard brown beetle-like skin. The first pictures were all taken around 7:20pm. Then we ventured off to the library and left the cicada to finish emerging undisturbed.

The nubs on the side of the body are the large wings waiting to be spread out and dried.

Upon our return home about an hour later the girls raced over to the tree. "The cicada is out! It's all the way out of the skin!"

It was unbelievable! There, clinging to the bark of the tree was the huge beautiful fly! It always amazes me how fast they emerge and spread their wings. Being the picture fanatic that I am I raced into the house to get my camera to capture some shots before the fly was off never to be seen again. Several mosquito bites later, here are a couple of the many pictures I captured.

This is the last picture I snapped of our "Dog-Day Harvestfly" before we bid him farewell.

Double, double toil and trouble;

2009-09-02T00:29:28Z

We are living in very interesting times, with irresistible, invisible forces swooshing past us as we turn and totter in disorientation.

Almost makes sense to stop reading the newspapers and stop watching the blatantly biased
TV news shows.

But then, how would we know anything at all?

A few late observations:

Health care reform is too important to be done at 100 mph. Obama, thankfully, is losing his public support, and will need to proceed at a considered pace (which he claimed to embrace when he was running for the office). The need for health reform is clear. The approach should also be clear; make your case by clearly explaining your bill before you send it to a vote, and allow citizens to digest what you are proposing. We citizens don't trust you politicians. 1000+ pages that the congressmen haven't read? Are you STUPID? We aren't.

The stock market is being manipulated by the biggies, and they are less and less concerned about the public reaction. High-frequency trading, where Goldman Sachs can see a buy order from someone else before the rest of the market can, then buy the same stock, drive the price up and sell it to the original someone at a profit, in less than a second (true, true, true), is shameful. What is more, it is legal, which makes the whole system shameful. And if we have just uncovered this bizzaro world, what else don't we know about? I don't have a solution for this one. Maybe you can find a solution in the Matrix, which is something else I don't understand.

Afghanistan and Iraq. No, make that Iraq and Afghanistan. Iraq may have some chance of some form of democracy because it has progressed politically in the last few centuries. Afghanistan hasn't progressed at all. It is stone age. Why would they accept Western ideas? Let's put the shoe on the other foot; would you accept Sharia law? Of course you wouldn't. You would resist for the rest of your life. Welcome to an unsolvable problem.

So, fellow travelers, love your families, appreciate the good things in life, take your meds and keep them eyes open.