Oh.

Away.

Away….away….away.

Like a moth to the flame…but restrained….flying close but never to…flying….watching….knowing…knowing what’s out there and wondering if anytime is going to be the good time… flying in place and wondering how it would be to wake up with a different breeze blowing across my cheek.

Or…maybe I’m just sitting watching YouTube videos about cool places…videos that actually fuel a visit….or a MOVE… to a fresh place.

Or….maybe I’m just watching videos.

I suspect that it’s probably the last thing….just watching videos.

Now that I think about it a little, though, I really shouldn’t hype Idaho too much.

I might get everybody who reads this out on the road….flying themselves into the heart of the candle flame….flying to something pretty amazing…flying to the land of good potatoes and magnificent vistas.

Good grief…it’s so….beautiful.

Idaho is pretty incredible….beautiful enough to stand out in a country chock full of “beautiful”.

I live in one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been to….soft hills….big views….green and welcoming and….really….when you think about it….if you aren’t lost and caught up in an endless rhododendron thicket and trying to get your bearings….pretty easy and forgiving.

It’s not hard to live where we live.

Loving where I am doesn’t mean that I don’t hunger for something like “the West”, though.

Watch some of this video….you’ll see what I mean about Idaho.

It’s a hard Shangri-La.

trying to learn

I didn’t know what it would be like to live on a container ship.

It was just another “vehicle” that kept the world spinning smoothly….bringing the plastic thing from around the world so that another vehicle could bring the plastic thing to my local store….where eventually, after some more back room, low-wage wrangling, I’d get a chance to stand behind my children while they pressed all the buttons that say “press me”….and the toys came to life and filled the aisles with joy.

My understanding of the cycle of consumption was trying not to get too crazy listening to all the animatronic toys speak to me after another round of button pushing.

It was limited to trying not to go crazy.

Plastic stuff….moving across oceans….and….THERE ARE PEOPLE AND GIANT SHIPS MAKING IT ALL HAPPEN!!

WHO KNEW?!!

I know that you can buy a container to use for storage…or, if you’re really a trendsetter and a visionary, you can buy a bunch of them and turn them into a HOME!

That’s kind of wacky….turning a big metal box into a home…cutting holes for some windows….cutting holes for some doors.

These are some big metal boxes!! With big, heavy metal doors that lock with giant bars and levers.

And….there’s so many of them in the world….going back and forth across our oceans….carrying talking plastic toys and other more vital items…that we can buy these used containers cheaply.

The things that carry the disposable items that fuel our consumption….are just as disposable.

Weird.

Watching this video, I think that it’s kind of hard to put into context how big these metal boxes riding on the ship are.

I’ve unloaded some of them in my rich and varied career.

They’re big and hot inside in the summer….40 feet or so long…maybe 8 feet tall?

Look how tall they stack these things on the ship!

Crazy.

There is so much that I don’t know about.

Watching a video about container ships doesn’t really get me closer to knowing about things.

Maybe it helps me understand container ships a little bit…I guess.

It might be the Enya music talking….but it looks strangely….beautiful….to live on a container ship.

Who knows what it would be like to live on one of these ships, though. It can’t be all Enya and beauty all the time. Surely some of it is greasy and dangerous?

Only the folks who live and work on these big boats understand.

I’d only understand if I could swim a mile in their moccasins.

Man, we do love to consume, though.

 

the thing that might have been

The thing about cars is that unless something starts wobbling…or squealing….or leaking badly enough to cause your head to turn in that direction….you never know that there’s a problem.

Nothing’s going to explode like this oil well….probably….but until something goes really bad, it’s sometimes hard to tell what’s going to happen as we motor on down the road, blissfully unaware of the millions (that’s hyperbole….maybe…hundreds) of parts working together in violent sympathy to make the automobile move.

We turn the key….and ….we go.

And if something breaks, we call the man to come collect us and take us to the other….slightly more greasy man…to fix all of our problems.

Or….we lay in the sharp gravel of our driveways and get greasy ourselves.

I fixed the other side of the transmission line last night….and with a few tweaks….like a container to catch the flowing red oil…the job was actually pretty easy and pretty quick

The thing that really impressed me was how a hose that’s supposed to be flexible (like a hose) could become so….mummified.

I showed Jenny the old hose when I’d replaced it with a fresh length of beautifully pliable conduit.

“Look at this!” I said, as I snapped the brittle old hose in two.

She looked pretty impressed.

That old hose was an accident waiting to happen.

Something that old and stiff is bound to spring a leak sometime.

Better the leak start (and stop) in my driveway than out on the mail route.

Since I was already greasy, I did a quick lube job….cleaning all the fittings with a rag and then shooting new grease into whatever I could figure needed greasing.

Jenny watched me do that….asked questions about what I was doing and how to do it…because she said she wanted to know in case something happened to me.

“In case something happened to me”? Ugh.

It’s good to know stuff.

I should get my whole family out when I’m doing things.

They would learn so much watching me.

They’d learn how to cuss when you drop a grey nut that you need down into the grey gravel.

That’s a lesson they don’t need.

They’re probably getting it (indirectly and, unfortunately, unavoidably) from the “safety” of the porch, anyway.

They weather has been beautiful….dry and warm.

Working on your car in the gravel driveway couldn’t be more pleasant than it is right now.

That’s a bonus.

 

“gettting ready to get down” Josh Ritter (from his latest album, “Sermon on the Rocks”)

 

 

 

my perfect day

oil-spill-sheen-slick-shutterstock

The second truck was pretty late getting back to the Post Office….and, so, I was pretty late getting started delivering the mail yesterday.

That’s our routine, lately.

When we have all of our mail, I can jam on it and get it all done….and be home at a decent hour.

When we wait on the trucks to bring the packages or mail that was misdelivered to another office, or that couldn’t be processed in time to make the first truck, or that wouldn’t fit on the first truck because the load was too big….well….that changes the day.

Yesterday was a day of waiting.

Anyway….the only reason I’m explaining that is to say that I was later getting started on my day than I suspected I would be when I thought I was going to make it out of the office and onto the road an hour earlier.

My Jeep was leaking transmission fluid….so, along with the lateness of the start, I was thinking about that some as the day progressed.

Everytime that I got out of the vehicle, I checked that quarter sized leak….making sure that it hadn’t gotten any bigger.

I made it back to the office about an hour later than I thought I would, checked the oil spot, realized that it was flowing a little more freely, and decided that maybe I should get a little more proactive about fixing the car correctly.

It was time to do something more than just continuing to buy quarts of transmission fluid.

When I got to the auto parts store, I checked that leaking hose to see if I could see any size marked on the outside of the hose.

Here’s where the story really starts….all the rest was just a long-winded way of saying that the day was already more rushed than it needed to be.

That’s all.

Anyway, when I checked the hose, what had been sort of a steady weeping of transmission fluid, constant and kind of dangerous if left unrepaired, turned into an Exxon Valdese kind of spill….red fluid pouring out of a crack in the hose that had somehow widened when I moved it.

This was all happening at the far side of the auto parts store’s parking lot.

I went into the store and bought the parts that I needed….and called Jenny when I realized that I was going to have to do the repair in the parking lot…and got my tools out and took the grill off so I could access the hose end at the transmission cooler.

When you take a hose off like that, all the fluid that’s in it and in whatever it’s connected to pours all over you.

When you take the other end of the hose off of the fitting that connects it to the other hose that’s attached to the transmission, the fluid from the other side pours all over you.

There’s lots of fluid.

Of course, you plug and hold with whatever finger is free…you watch and ponder in that puddle of grease….you ponder all this fluid that’s splashed in your face….and, after you manage to cut away all the old hardened hose from the fitting, and you are able to slide the new hose over it….the leaking stops!

That’s such a good thing….when the hot red oil stops pouring out onto your nicest t-shirt….and you can get up off of the asphalt and go back into the store to clean up in their men’s room.

Man…what a day.

Between the truck being late and all this hot oil….

Man.

No.

Wait……..

Man!

Man!!! What a day!!

The weather was perfect! The leaves were turning!! I busted my car in the parking lot of a place where I could fix it!! It was dry and nice…and I’d been thinking about how the repair job would go down for a couple of weeks….so when I actually got on it…out of oily necessity…the job was what I expected it would be.

And now my car doesn’t leak anymore.

I don’t want to be a Pollyanna about this….but….maaaaaaannnnnnnnn…..what a perfect day!

I am blessed in ways that, given a slightly wrong twist in perception, I suspect that I discount or miss completely almost every day of my life.

I am blessed.

That’s a nice thing to remember.

What a perfectly oily perfect day.

 

 

Foxy Shazam.

My friends tell me the score.

I watched the Macklemore video “Downtown”….and wondered who the dude with the moped chariot was.

That was so great.

“Downtown”!!

I wondered who he was and my friend, John, came through for me and told me that it was the singer for a band called Foxy Shazam.

That’s how I figure out a lot of the limited things that I figure out….my friends clue me in.

It’s some wacky stuff….and some pretty great vocals….good rock and roll.

Who knew who Foxy Shazam was?

Probably everybody in the world….except me.

And….my friend John, that’s who!

Here’s the “Downtown” video again….

slouching on the couch

Our little girl, Sparrow, put her hand on my chest the other night and said, “nut”.

She’s still pretty young….and even though she talks really well and has a remarkably well-developed vocabulary for such a little person, sometimes I don’t hear what I think she must be trying to say.

Then….she said it again.

“Nut.”

When the verdict is in, and the judgement is coming from someone who hasn’t had her second birthday yet, it can kind of rock your world.

Then I realized that she was touching the logo for a Mountain Hardwear fleece pullover that I was wearing.

Their logo is a “nut”….and I’d told her the previous day that it was a “nut” when she asked what it was on my jacket.

Their logo looks like this:

montain_hardwear_logo

It’s the nut!! Not Daddy!! Daddy wasn’t the nut this time!!

That was kind of cool not to be the nut….this time.

It was funny that she remembered what it was, too….and that I had another logo on the collar of the jacket.

She’s a smart little bird.

We haven’t been watching the news for the last couple of days.

I suppose the comet could hit New York City….and unless the earth lost gravity or we could see the plume of ash covering the sun, I would never know that something had happened.

They’d probably interrupt “Uncle Grandpa” for an important news bulletin if the comet hit the earth, though.

I’d hear about it somehow if the comet hit the earth.

Uncle Grandpa is such a wonderfully weird show.

I told Jenny, when she asked what it was, that it kind of makes Spongebob look like a documentary….that it makes Spongebob look pretty lucid.

It’s a pretty amazingly trippy little show….colorful and weird….funny.

That’s a great benefit of having these little guys around….one of many, actually.

I get to see some amazing weirdness….and, when anyone asks what we’re watching or what I’m doing, I can just tell them that it’s something that the kids wanted to watch.

Don’t tell anyone that it’s really me.

It’s really me who wants to watch Uncle Grandpa.

It’s me…..slouching on the couch.

 

 

the crack

 

lake baikal crack

This is a photo of a crack that appeared on a frozen lake in Russia.

It was taken by a photographer named Alexey Trofimov.

Here’s a link that tells a little bit about the photo and the lake where the photograph was made.

This is an amazing photo.

It looks as though the world has split in two.

The thing that really hit me, reading the article and looking at the pictures that accompanied the article, was how much the other pictures looked like “a lake that froze”.

They’re kind of cool.

I like frozen lakes.

They are cool….(cold !)…but the other pictures looked like a lot of other frozen lakes that I’ve walked on or driven by.

They don’t look all that special.

Again…it’s all perspective.

Perspective, perspective, perspective.

Knowing that it’s all perspective doesn’t make me understand how to see the world the way I need to.

I still go off on misplaced tangents….yelling about something that I think is important, railing at the world when something seems to be wrong.

Maybe I think that my world is cracking in two….until I back up enough to remember that it’s really just another frozen lake?

Awwwww….what does it really matter?

This is a very cool picture….and like most cool visual things, it’s just a little “tweak” away from being kind of “normal”.

It’s normal vision combined with luck and open eyes and some very active looking.

What art isn’t just a little tweak, anyway?

What artist doesn’t try to see the world a little bit differently?

What are we missing….hurrying around and accepting at face value what we think “is”?

i don’t know if i was here

I don’t know if I was here.

I may have been here….waiting at the base of the rock….waiting for my friend Joel to come back down.

This big rock looks like something I’ve seen before….sometime a while ago.

One thing that I DO KNOW, though, is this:

THIS IS THE SAME MUSIC WE PLAYED AS MOTIVATION ON THAT TRIP TO THE WIND RIVER RANGE SO MANY YEARS AGO!!

HOW’D THIS PERSON GET THE SAME MUSIC WE PLAYED ON OUR TRIP?!

Nah….we played some Led Zeppelin…some old Johnny Cash….other stuff….on our trip to the Wind River Range.

That was a long time ago.

Lots of things have happened since the illustrious days of the “Road Dawg” tapes.

I really don’t know if I was here.

It might have been a different pointy, tall rock.

It must have been a much shorter rock….it didn’t seem like I had to wait all day for Joel to climb up and back down.

He’s not that good a climber….he’s not that fast.

Or….he’s a good climber….but….he’s not that fast.

It must have been a shorter rock.

Anyway….I might have been in the same place….but the minute I walked away from it, the place was already different.

Nothing stays the same….no matter how hard I try and get a grip on it.

I can’t corral time.

That was a good place…out West.

That was a good trip with a good friend.

Maybe I was here….sometime long ago.

Maybe….I was.

IMACHICK!! IMACHICK!! IAMACHICK!!

We watched one of “my” movies last night.

The previous night, we watched one of  “Jenny’s” movies.

I act like it’s a big sacrifice to watch one of “Jenny’s movies”.

I don’t know what that does for me….acting like I’m making a sacrifice watching one of these movies. Maybe that’s “just how I roll”?

Anyway, usually they’re some kind of period drama….with manners and fancy old-looking outfits….and a fully realized storyline.

My movies are loud and brash….with people getting trapped in things and fast cars that blow up or jump off of high places.

My movies are an adrenaline pumping rush!!!

The funny thing is, I usually fall asleep during my adrenaline fests….but I sit in rapt attention for almost all of “Jenny’s movies”.

It’s something about the character development….or the scenery….or the sometimes quiet pacing.

Man.

I’m a sucker for the chick flicks.

I SIT FOR THE CHICK FLICKS!

Gads.

I must be a chick.

Holy Smokes.

Nah….I’m no chick.

IMADUDE.

IAMADUDE.

Everything was destroyed in the movie that I picked out for last night….and, at the end of the movie, when Carla Gugino asked the Rock, “What now?” (spoiler)….and he said, “We rebuild”…..( “We rebuild”!!) ….I felt like I’d gotten my money’s worth.

It was going to be alright.

San Francisco would rise from the rubble…..the Rock would rebuild.

“San Andreas” was what I expected it to be….and I stayed awake (!!) for the whole movie.

“Far from the Madding Crowd” was a great film….and a story that I’m still thinking about.

As much as I pretend to be some weird cinematic martyr when we watch those quiet films that Jenny picks out, I think that she knows the real score.

I love a movie about real people….doing things at “real people speed”….who do “real people things” that are… really interesting.

It’s great to “save the world”….but “real” ….really captures my imagination and attention.

Jenny’s got me pegged.

I DIG THESE “CHICK FLICKS”!!

At least the ones where they wear all these old clothes.

They rock.

 

What’s a guy gotta do? Go to India?

I realized last night that I’ve never had a really satisfactory experience at an “Indian hotel” in the United States.

“Satisfactory” is kind of a broad term….maybe I should say comfortably familiar and consistently pleasant?

(We watched “Far From the Madding Crowd”….and this was one of the trailers the dvd player showed us before our movie started. That’s what made me think of this stuff.)

I have had some hilarious experiences…some bizarre experiences…..but never one that I could call on and hold up as an example of something that I really enjoyed….or that I’d repeat if I knew better to avoid it.

THAT’S RACIAL!!! THAT’S RACIAL!!!

Nahhhhh….not really.

Wellllll….maybe.

That’s crummy.

Maybe that IS a”racially charged” comment?

I should be ashamed.

It’s just that these movies make it (staying at an “Indian hotel”) look so fun.

This one even has dance numbers like the ones in the Bollywood movies.

This hotel looks cool.

None of the motels that I stayed at were cool.

I’ve stayed at ones that had weird overhead crawlspaces….where the door couldn’t be completely opened because of the placement of the bed….where I checked in late enough that I could see where the yogurt for the next morning’s complimentary buffet was stored….where they reused the previous days coffee just to save money.

I’ve stayed at motels where the owner fixed our room’s ant problem by spraying our floor down with ant spray….while we watched.

Maybe I should rephrase the way I’m presenting the situation.

What I should say is that many of the strange places we’ve stayed at had Indian proprietors.

They were weird motels…that Indian people happened to be running.

And, it was my fault, too…looking for the elusive “cheap bargain” (there is no such thing as a “cheap bargain”….you get what you pay for….usually).

I guess that what I’m wondering is if I have to go to India to have a really fun experience staying at an “Indian hotel”?

Where do I go to see the dancers entertain like they apparently do in this movie?

Probably one of the nicer hotels….that happen to be run by people of Indian descent.

Maybe….this?

tipi

THAT’S RACIAL !!

THAT’S RACIAL !!

THAT’S RACIAL !!

THAT’S NOT EVEN A “HOTEL” !!

THAT’S A TIPI !!

NO ONE DANCES AROUND A TIPI !!

 

 

That’s so racial.

Vikings-TV-Show-Historically-Accurate.

Or….this one?

THAT’S SO RACIAL !!

THERE ARE NO VIKING HOTELS !!

THAT IS SO RACIAL !!

Racial.

RACIAL, RACIAL, RACIAL, RACIAL.

“RACIAL” IS SO FAR FROM POLITICAL CORRECTNESS THAT I CAN’T BELIEVE IT.

I CANNOT BELIEVE IT.

I need some sensitivity training.

I need to find a place where I can drink some more day old coffee and sweep the ants under the bed….and then try and close the door….and learn to love it…and ignore whether the people running the joint are Indian people.

And then join the line of dancers making it fun for all involved.

Anyway….not all of the crummy places I’ve stayed have been run by Indian people.

It’s not fair to say that the weirdest places are run by Indian people.

I need to stay at nicer motels.

And I need to avoid generalizations about ethnic makeup and weird motel experiences.

Sorry, Indian people.

Sorry.