under the microscope

Mag. #105

2012-02-19T11:17:00.001-05:00

image: epic mahoney

"Alice? Where you at?

Say what? No cell reception!

Where's the restaurant?"

2012-02-17T05:19:00.000-05:00

American Literature 1865-present

Bob LaRock’s

Journal entry #4

Stephen Crane’s “Maggie; a girl of the streets.”

It’s easy for me to see why this piece by Crane is acclaimed as the premier piece in the move from romanticism to realism/naturalism.

While he may have embellished somewhat, the details in this story of life in a tenement, rife with poverty, in the Bowery of New York City, he makes it believable at the same time. Could such a scenario exist in real life? I think so; although I’m not sure the extreme naiveté of Maggie is quite believable. Anyone subject to the constant mental and physical abuse to which she was and who can come away seemingly unaffected is a little farfetched in my mind. But if the purpose, and I think it was his purpose, was to gain a sympathetic audience then He succeeded.

Painting a picture of hopes dashed he appeals to the humanistic qualities in every person. Then he smashes those hopes and makes suicide the answer. He could have taken this ending in a different direction but the impact would have been so much less dramatic.

This is a piece of in-your-face realism written for the express purpose to unveil the tragedy of slum life in America, to gain sympathy and perhaps effect change; to demand an outcry from the public that the powers that be i.e. the politicians would be pressed to make some meaningful changes.

It’s hard to say for sure whether this story was a catalyst for social reform and the labor movement in America, but the very fact that it survived to be read here over one hundred years later tells us that it impacted America’s thoughts about slum conditions.

The sad thing is that Stephen Crane could find in too many cities today the situation unchanged. Even in the America of social services and a plethora of laws to protect the poor and destitute, the populace turns an unseeing eye past the inhumanity of man to man and the cycle continues unchanged into the future.

How can we make the proverb, “give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime,” the law of the land, of the world?

The facts scream at us from the 21st century slums; what you’ve done to fix the problem hasn’t worked. Do something different.

2012-02-14T05:07:00.002-05:00

Valentine's Day: A Day of Romance

Lupercalia survived the initial rise of Christianity and but was outlawed—as it was deemed “un-Christian”--at the end of the 5th century, when Pope Gelasius declared February 14 St. Valentine's Day. It was not until much later, however, that the day became definitively associated with love. During the Middle Ages, it was commonly believed in France and England that February 14 was the beginning of birds' mating season, which added to the idea that the middle of Valentine's Day should be a day for romance.

Valentine greetings were popular as far back as the Middle Ages, though written Valentine's didn't begin to appear until after 1400. The oldest known valentine still in existence today was a poem written in 1415 by Charles, Duke of Orleans, to his wife while he was imprisoned in the Tower of London following his capture at the Battle of Agincourt. (The greeting is now part of the manuscript collection of the British Library in London, England.) Several years later, it is believed that King Henry V hired a writer named John Lydgate to compose a valentine note to Catherine of Valois.

freezing rain, sleet,hail, frigid cold

2012-02-09T05:10:00.000-05:00

Last night on the News, they reported a colder snowier frigid winter taking place in Eastern Europe. But I already knew that.....

Many months ago for a few days in a row I had a tremendous increase in blog traffic and the search term was always the same: pileated woodpecker.

For the past week and a half my blog visits have once again doubled and tripled; the reason? First off, most of those visits are from Romania. A few other eastern European countries are represented but, by far, Romania is the most frequent. Their search words? freezing rain, frigid, and winter storms. So I had an inkling that the weather over there was more severe than normal.

On the other hand, the same news cast informed us that we here in the USA are having the mildest winter since 1950. Some how I knew that too. In fact, I've been blogging for a number of years about how much less winter we've had compared to when I grew up but you know how that's received; yeah, yeah, yeah whatta you know old man? You probably had to walk twenty miles to school through blinding snow storms,uphill both ways too.

Well maybe I did.....................

This is a blog piece I wrote in Dec. 2010:

http://pciyrtpy.blogspot.com/search?q=walk+to+school+uphill+both+ways

Paris

Rome

Amsterdam

Children's stories.....

2012-02-05T11:22:00.001-05:00

Prism heart behold
His granite fingers unfold;
Bakulev's tale told.

A challenge from Facebook.......

2012-02-02T04:51:00.000-05:00

prompt

My submissiom

procrastinating

2012-01-31T05:21:00.001-05:00

You know that if I'm here blogging, I'm not doing my homework which was due yesterday.
Just sayin'!

wasted time??

2012-01-30T05:55:00.000-05:00

I ran outta time. Out of time to put up a post of any significance. On the other hand, what makes me think that any post I write has any significance? Okay OK, I'm wasting valuable time.

I used to have enough time but on the seventeenth of this month I started a course called American literature: 1865 to present. Last week we started reading the Mark Twain Novel, the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. We will read it in it's entirety and critique it. There in lies the rub. I've read this story more than once and have enjoyed it every time, but I don't read it to analyse it, I read it for the enjoyment of the story. Now it's work and as such takes time to understand the questions and even more time to find and structure my answers..... so that's where my time has....

Oops, gotta go

Come again when I've got more time to sit and chat.... Ta ta.

dream stream....

2012-01-29T09:16:00.002-05:00

Mag 102

Images in my dream
Boomerang until I scream.
Celestial star stream.

Are we smart enough...

2012-01-27T05:08:00.000-05:00

to elect effective representatives, or politicians as they are more commonly known ?

A conversation I engaged in earlier this week set my mind wondering if, in fact, common everyday people have the mental where-with-all to evaluate and vote for people with altruistic motives who will actually endeavor to do the best thing for the country and it's populace.

Today I don't even want to talk about the lobbyists who purchase laws favorable to their clients.

No, I want to look at some personal choices ordinary people make in their lives and ponder whether they can be trusted to make better choices when electing Representatives to U.S. government offices.

The fact that smoking causes lung cancer became public in the 1920's by scientists in Germany. Here in the U.S., in 1964 (the year I started smoking cigarettes,) the Surgeon General declared a link between cancer and smoking. It took twenty years before an aggressive effort began to discourage smoking in this country and even longer in some European countries.. Yet today people of voting age continue to smoke and I doubt if any of them can say they are not aware of the facts that smoking has a deleterious impact on the users health. Why should I believe that the personal choice to ruin ones health for momentary satisfaction can give rise to good choices in picking politicians?

How about the choice to over-eat to the point of Morbid obesity, and it is a choice. Of that I have no doubt.

Or the fellow, or gal for that matter, who chooses to spend the weekly rent money or family grocery money in the local tavern or opium den. What do you think of their history of making good choices.

The driver who chooses to drive drunk, the rapist, the pedophile, the robber, murderer etc. etc.

In the conversation I alluded to earlier, the person with whom I was engaged, adamantly, wanted to paint all law enforcement people with a wide brush of negativity because a relative of theirs had been treated in a way that they felt inappropriate. This example of what I call haywire thinking gives me pause to agree with pogo: We have met the enemy and he is us.

CRNA week: Pauly said......

2012-01-26T04:59:00.000-05:00

17 years ago, golly it seems like only yesterday, I took my youngest child, who was seventeen at the time, to work with me, in the operating room. He had just recently graduated from high school and would be leaving in a few weeks to begin his college experience, and I wanted to give him a glimpse into the world of an anesthesia provider to add to his list of yet to be determined career choices.

At the end of the day, riding home with me, I asked him what he thought of anesthesia as a career choice. His response after taking a few minutes to collect his thoughts: "No offense dad, but anesthesia is pretty boring. I know, you have to know a lot to make sure it is boring but just the same....."

He was right on the money so-to-speak; one of the great satisfactions for an anesthesia provider is, in fact, to take a situation fraught with risk for catastrophe and make it safe and, yes, boring.

**********************

Yesterday, Paul and I split up the cases in the ortho room. In the early afternoon while I was administering anesthesia to a patient undergoing an achilles tendon repair, Paul came in to get set up for his to follow case; an arthroscopic shoulder surgery in the sitting position. The airway management of these types of cases can vary from institution to institution and even from provider to provider, but in our setting oral endotracheal intubation (OET) is the standard.

He comes to the head of the table wheeling the Storz video larygngoscope. This is a device used to facilitate placing an OET in a patient with a known or even supposed difficult airway. A difficult airway being one that is hard to visualize using a regular laryngoscope. Next he prepares an endotracheal tube by inserting a malleable Teflon coated stylet. I say to him tongue -in-cheek; "wow, you're going all out today. Do you anticipate some difficulty."

Paul says the patient has a pumpkin shaped head, short bull neck, and small oral opening showing a Mallempati III. He then off handedlysays:

"It's OK to say that you'll deal with that bridge when you get to it; but make sure you've have the toll money in your pocket."

MSMAID is the toll money

Which makes dealing with a difficult airway look boring.

Boring is the result of proper and complete preparation.

Caveat: My son's career choice: CPA.

Once upon a time.......

2012-01-25T05:31:00.000-05:00

In the magic

Box

Is the mystery of the forbidden.

I dare you to

Open--

You are gripped by

Fear.

Take up your pencil,

Write,

Make the forbidden

Familiar.

I went to the doctor and the doctor said........

2012-01-24T05:19:00.001-05:00

I went to the cardiologist yesterday to follow-up on my admission to the ICU a week ago. He looked at the EKG that the halter monitor had produced and said he wanted a stress echo to see if any abnormality showed up.
Two hours later he pronounced me normal.....
I said, "can I have that in writing?

The bottom line is that my heart appears to be in fine shape with only some minor electrical disruptions of no clinical significance.
So what you ask was the problem"
Eating pizza as a sleep aide.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Years ago; Yeeeeeaaaaaaaaarrrrrs ago when I attended school to become a CRNA, there was a caveat bandied about that anesthesia providers, RN & MD alike suffered from the "Rodney Dangerfield" syndrome:

"I don't get no respect!"

CRNA Week Jan. 22-28, 2012

2012-01-23T06:00:00.003-05:00

http://www.heraldsun.com/view/full_story/17318945/article-Nurse-anesthetists--Helping-across-the-world-

magpie for the Mag.

2012-01-22T08:50:00.003-05:00

The Mag....

formerly; Magpie Tales

Posing for artist

Dressed in your nakedness.

Artificial light

Whoa Nellie.......

2012-01-20T05:00:00.002-05:00

Last night's snow storm left a meager dusting to 1/2 inch on the ground but the impressive part was that it fell in it's entirety over just a few minutes. Which would lead one, at least the one called me, to ask why blog about it? Because I think it's the first time I've been driving in such blinding whiteness.

Driving home from a friends home where I had been invited to share a delicious repast, I was tootling along at 55 - 60 when I noticed a spitting of snow wafting across the windshield. I'm about 6 miles from home. Within a minute to a minute and a half I'm impressed with the growing ferocity of both the wind and the thickening cloud of white buffeting my vision. I was sure it was a momentary gust and would subside soon, but rather, it intensified to the point where I was able to discern where my windshield was only by noting where the snow stopped.

I could not see the hood of my car let alone the road, which of course by now was covered with a blanket of white making it doubly difficult to make out the road.. I could make out the shoulder and so slowed to 5 -10 miles per hour in the attempt to stay on my side of the road. Fortunately there was little traffic; none that was near enough behind for me to fear a rear ending, but I did put on my four way flashers. I met a half dozen cars proceeding toward me with the same precaution and making out their head lights and flashers was only possible when they were near 500 yards away. It was difficult to stay in my lane, like being in a limbo of sorts. I did so and in 5 minutes or so I was at the local gas station where I pulled in and refueled.

When I pulled back onto the highway, for the remaining 1.5 mile drive to my own garage, the storm had abated completely.

I'm happy that I didn't have far to go and that the storm was short lived.

Freaky!

Back to school....... nick-of-time

2012-01-19T05:39:00.003-05:00

Call it sixth sense, intuition, or whatever; yesterday I dodged a bullet. A bullet that could be called procrastination. I registered for my second course from Empire State College in early January 2012. It is an online course with 20 or less students from diverse areas of the country and a range of ages pretty evenly divided between male and female.

My previous and first college course since 1975 was also done online @ ESC, but through direct email with the professor plus a couple of initial phone calls. No use of the college's "Angel" system of communicating with students/professors was utilized.

I kept waiting to hear via email from the college, if not the professor, when the course actually was starting. I had in my mind that a start date of 1/12/12 was expected. My visit to angel on January 5th yielded zero info and, until yesterday, I had not revisited.

Holy smokes!! Yesterday, while twiddling my thumbs at work waiting for the last case to finish up, I thought, "I'll check "Angel" at ESC and see if by chance anything has been posted there," expecting to find, as per my previous experiences, nada. Oh man, there it was; a welcome from the professor, syllabus, text to be used, and first 3 assignments one of which is an informal essay due Monday next.

Scurry, scurry, scurry. Near totally unfamiliar with the use of the "Angel," system I clicked on everything that was clickable and navigated haphazardly around the site until, I think, I've found everything i need to know and do; immediately.

After supper I logged back on and read some of the other students submissions and commented on them as required in the first assignment. As well I submitted my short answers to: 1. What is America? What does it Mean to be American? 2. How do you define "the American Dream?" Do you think that Americans, in general, are indeed in pursuit of this ideal?

Now I'm jotting down ideas to use over the weekend when writing the informal essay addressing My past experiences with American Literature, what led me to select this course and what I expect to gain from the course, and my thoughts on what it means to be an American.

I think I'm current and on track. Whew!! Now to move on grab every bit of enjoyment I can from this course and my classmates.
Oh, the course, you ask? American Literature 1865 to present. Should be fun.
I ordered the text overnight UPS. I hope it gets here today..... Yah right, maybe Friday.

Epidural interuptus........

2012-01-17T07:01:00.000-05:00

0532 "Good morning Bob, Heather wants you to come put an epidural in her patient."

I'm in the shower just soaping up when my phone rings and I consider briefly not answering it, knowing that that'll give me the few minutes I need to towel off before my beeper sounds. But no, I reach out and answer my cell phone putting it on speaker phone so that who ever is calling will hear the shower running behind me.

"Okay," I say. "Be there in a few."

It usually takes me 10 minutes at most, even from a dead sleep, to arrive in the OB dept. after a summons. This morning I moved deliberately yet took time to finish my ablutions, thinking, "really this is a call for a labor epidural, and while it probably constitutes an emergency in the pregnant mom's mind, in actuality is not an "emergency.""

I arrive in the parturients room 20 minutes post phone conversation and her nurse, looking at me sheepishly says, she's at 9 cms., she progressed much faster than I anticipated; "do you want to offer her an intrathecal instead?"

"Mais oui," says I with a twinkle in my eye, and proceed to explain the difference between an interthecal and an epidural to this 19 year old, skinny as a toothpick prime-ip (first pregnancy). Unsure if she wants a needle pick in the back to relieve her labor discomfort, she asks her mom what she should do, who in turn asks the OB nurse what they should do.

While this interlude is taking place the mid-wife appears on the scene. I defer to her and step out of the room to await a decision. In less than five minutes a second OB nurse comes out and says, "she's" delivering so they won't need you."

Hear I am 40 minutes later, back in the frat house eating oatmeal, prunes, walnuts and skim milk.

"Ahhhh, the life of an on-call anesthetist," he muses smiling at the screen.

we interupt this programm.......

2012-01-16T04:46:00.001-05:00

I know, I know I missed writing here for 3 days, but this time, upon reflection, I'm going to excuse myself.

Saturday morning I activated the EMS system; I called 911.

There have been a few times over the years when I should have called and didn't. Thankfully I was right in my reluctance but I reflect on the thought of what if that chest pain had been a heart attack; I'd more than likely be staring at the inside of a wooden box these past 15 years or so.

Embarrassment is one reason for not calling; what if I'm wrong, I'll look foolish. The other is the machismo; It's nothing, it'll go away soon, and I can handle this. I'm here to tell you the most foolish thing you can do is to not call when you have symptoms of a heart attack. It turned out that I did not have a heart attack but at every step I was reminded; you did the right thing!

The average heart attack sufferer gets to the hospital almost five hours after the onset of symptoms. This delay significantly increases their chances of dying.

I was awakened early Saturday morning, 0330, with severe heartburn to the point that I had to get up for fear that if I continued to lay in the supine position I'd regurgitate and aspirate that caustic stomach acid into my lungs. I'm not one who is plagued by GERD and consequently don't have a ready supply of antacid tablets; Rolaids or Tums near at hand. Although we do have them in our home, I was in the Frat house (an apartment I co-rent with a co-worker to stay in when we are on call at the hospital.) Fortunately my co-worker did have some Rolaids which I found and helped myself to two. Within a few short minutes the discomfort eased. Sitting on the couch, pondering the situation, the thought heart attack came into my head and I thought it prudent to take an aspirin tablet just in case.

This is the point that I should have activated EMS and dialed 911.

Ten minutes or so later my symptoms abated and I returned to bed. I woke two hours later feeling like I'd been worked over by an assailant with a rubber hose. I hurt in places I'd never hurt before especially my joints; all my joints. I got up and took 800 mg of Motrin and began to revisit the happenings in the recent hours. Now convinced that I at least needed to see a physician in the ER, I thought about driving myself there. When I stood up I was so listless and light headed that I immediately discarded that idea as too dangerous.

Still entertaining ideas of heart attack I went to the internet to see what signs,besides chest pain (which I did not have)are indicative of Heart attack.

Chest pressure, tightness, and heaviness

>Pain in shoulders, neck, jaw, or arms

>Lightheadedness

Fainting

>Paleness

>Sweating

>Nausea

Shortness of breath with or without chest pain

I figured 5 out of eight was significant enough to make a move. Nearly 4 hours have passed since first indication.

It now being 7 am, I called the home of my back-up with the intent of having him come pick me up and drive me to the hospital. His wife answered the phone and after I told her that I suspected a heart attack and wanted him to drive me to hospital she vociferously insisted that I hang up and call 911 immediately. In the mean time she would notify her husband and he would meet me some where along the line.

The EMS system worked like a charm and went as smoothly as anyone would expect; from rapid response to in-ambulance treatment to transport; flawless in everyway. Kudos to Massena rescue!!!

The upshot is I was wrong in my diagnosis: I did not have a heart attack. I was right to call 911.
A minor electrical disturbance in the upper chamber of my heart was noticed but probably not a significant problem and most likely not the cause of this episode. This episode was probably the result of pizza.

After twenty four hours I was discharged with instructions to visit a cardiologist to follow up on the incidences of SVT that occur while I'm asleep.

Shoulda, coulda, woulda.....

2012-01-12T04:13:00.000-05:00

Today

Sleet...snow and freezing rain. Total snow accumulation of 1 to 3 inches. Ice accumulation of up to a tenth of an inch. Highs in the lower 30s. Northeast winds 10 to 15 mph. Chance of precipitation near 100 percent.
Tonight

Freezing drizzle likely or a chance of sleet until midnight. Cloudy with a chance of freezing rain. Lows in the upper 20s. Southeast winds around 10 mph. Chance of precipitation 50 percent.

Okay then. The weatherman warned us yesterday afternoon and throughout the evening that this was coming; freezing rain. It's not that I didn't believe him; I seriously thought about staying at the frat house overnight. Certainly that would have been safer and I'm thinking now at0400 in the morning with the freezing rain pelting me as I wheel the trash bin to the curb, that I was foolish to come home 50 miles away. My reasons seemed valid yesterday with balmy, sunny skies. I turned the heat down to 58 when I left for work yesterday morning and the cat isn't used to prolonged periods of time of the house being that cold. Jane is going to check on him and make sure he has food and fresh water, but she probably won't touch the thermostat. The other factor is that I'm on call this weekend and will be at the frat house Friday through Monday. So I decided to come home and make sure everything was in order. This forecast is supposed to last into this evening so I'll not make the same mistake twice; I'll extend my stay at the frat house to Thurs. thru Mon. Of course I still have to get there this morning!

So then, I'd better get a move on; wish me luck !!

Metaphysical

2012-01-11T05:10:00.000-05:00

Awake at 0200. Not unusual. Woke up thinking about mankind and his place in the universe. This is not the first time my mind has followed this train of thought, but the interesting thing is how it persisted over the next hour while slipping in and out of slumberville. I resolved that if the idea could persist for another half hour through my work-out then I'd make it the topic of today's blog post. It's 0500 now and time to shower and make ready to depart for the shop.

Our bodies are covered with germs and unless we get a breakdown in our skin's defense system they do what ever they are designed to do and no harm comes to us the organism. Man in his infinite ego, although I suspect that Strep and Pseudomonas aeruginosa have equally high regard for themselves, thinks he is here on this planet for some higher purpose; a creation of some higher power for some grandiose purpose. Perhaps that is true but I suspect that we are just one of many cogs in the universe's wheel.

In essence I'm inclined to believe that we, mankind, are but a germ on the entity we call earth and the earth is a germ in the wider cosmos of the universe and so on up the line. Everything has a purpose and when the defenses are breached catastrophe is in the making; think strep infection, psuedomonas blood poisoning etc., etc..

That's it. Extrapolation only brings me back to the same conclusions.

Better late than............

2012-01-10T17:34:00.000-05:00

Okay, admit it; you thought, Aha, he missed one. Already he's slacking off only 10 days into the year and he can't come up with a blog post. Well sir, you've every right to jump to that conclusion, but this time your wrong. I was on call last night and when I have a call day during the week I don't take my computer to the frat house with me and blogging from my phone is too arduous a task. I'm late to the page today for sure; 13 hours or so to be inexact, but here never-the-less.
My dad was a writer wanna be like me or is it me being like him, which ever, He only left behind those scraps of writing that he transferred from his head to paper. Too bad, 'cause I believe he had plenty of good things to convey. I'm not so egotistical to think my writings, left to posterity, will amount to anything but I don't want my children or grand children to come looking for what dad or grandpa had to say about this and that and come up empty handed. I'm egotistical but not that egotistical.

Whether it's worth reading or not I've promised myself to come here and write something everyday. I'll fail, it's the way of things, but I'll do better than last year 'cause this year I'm willing to write drivel and be done with it.

Good writers, (good meaning published, I earn a living from putting words out there for others to spend time looking at, good) write drivel. How do I know? Well I take their word for it. That's the kind of guy I am; I'll believe you 'til I catch you in a lie. Then I'll never believe you again, or almost never. The point? Good writers tell you that they write shit but they never show you, or if they do, not often enough for me to have seen any of it_--------- _ tired of reading this yet?

10 days into the first month of the new year and I can say I'm so far totally unimpressed with my new desk calendar; The calendar of AWESOME.
Tomorrow's awesomeness reads: "Wearing the shoes you just bought out of the store
Sometimes those old ratty sandals need to get buried. When sidewalk steps rattle your spine and walking to the store gives you severe Blackfoot, it's time to go shopping.
Next time you slide on that fresh new pair in the store, just pause for a second and look wistfully at the broken, smooth-soled flat ones in your hand. So many rainy nights, so many deck parties, so many trips for gas.
Fight tears and steady your lip as you stare the teenage cashier square in the eye and say:
"Do you guys have a garbage can?"
AWESOME!"
Come on, are you kidding me? Awesome? I don't think so. On the other hand: If this shit can get published then maybe there's hope for me.... Yeah, Fuck Yeah!!!!!!

By-the-way: old worn out shoes, what else spells comfort like old worn out shoes?

CU2morrow. GWATCDR.

Normal is change

2012-01-09T05:02:00.001-05:00

Normal

Normal is now; not the way it was in 1963 and not the way it will be twenty years from now. Normal sits within a set of parameters that are arbitrarily prescribed by ourselves per se, to fit today.

The weather, particularly the winters when I was growing up we're more severe than those we've experienced in the last 15 to 20 years. So what is normal? Between you and me normal can be the same, an arm's length, or a Continent apart. When the weatherman says the day was unseasonably warm or cold or dry or rainy or whatever, he's referring to what is expected based on the recent past.

Normal is what lets us make sense of the world and gives us comfort in our day to day routine. When the normal begins to vary, we become uneasy with the effort required to adapt to the New Norm.

The only thing normal is change and adapting to those changes is what manifests itself as survival.

2012-01-08T15:45:00.002-05:00

For Magpie # 99

All of my life
I pretended
To be
Someone I wasn't
Until who I
wasn't
Became who I was
And who I was
Wasn't.

Finding inspiration in Thin Air;

2012-01-08T08:26:00.002-05:00

Picking out a time slot to write that you can adhere to so that it will become a habit. Test the waters they said: see how well you handle four or five hours of writing at one sitting! Are you fucking shitting me? Oh and they go on to say; "You may find that only two hours a day works best for you."

Listen jerks, I like to write and I spend time everyday doing some writing. Maybe I write for five minutes. Maybe longer, but 4 or 5 hours/ not on your life. You must enjoy writing prescriptions for failure. Maybe that's all you have to do but I have a real job that reliably pays real money and a lot of it besides. Staying current in my profession requires a few hours study every week so I don't have a Michael Jackson catastrophe on my watch. Not only that, I like to work out daily; you know, walk, run, lift weights, do push-ups and that sort of activity. I don't need to do that everyday for 4 to 5 hours to become healthier, stronger, more fit than most people my age.... thank God, or I'd let that go by the wayside. Habit you say? Well I haven't missed many exercise sessions in the last 18 years; maybe a day here and there but otherwise I'm as regular as a bowel movement. Oh and did I mention that I have an hour drive each way to work every day? And in that two hours I manage to listen to audio books to add to my reading. Eating takes up a couple hours a day and obviously I need more (6 - 7 hrs.) sleep every night than you do. Shoveling snow, when necessary, takes an hour or more per session. I contribute a large number of hours to my vegetable garden from May through October and like to kayak the rivers around my neighborhood a few hours at a go when I can find calm water and "free" time. Add in time to socialize with family, friends and neighbors, travel to exotic places, and don't forget Facebook obligations and I'm at a loss for where you, dip-wad, think I'm going to find 4 or 5 hours a day to sit and write in order to make writing a habit.

Mornings are my most productive time and I attend to most of my non work related activity during those hours. Recently I completed a course in Creative Nonfiction and wrote and revised many pages of a memoir in the three months the course lasted. For a final grade I had to submit 25 to 30 pages of a finished product plus critique 5 to 7 books assigned. While I may have spent upwards to 2 hours at a session on a weekend day it was not a daily phenomenon. I received an A in that course and by your idiotic standard should have received an F.

Let me suggest that in your next revised edition in the chapter/page January 3rd you might rather suggest the following: Pick a time of day that you can reliably spend 15 to 30 minutes a day devoted to writing, more if the spirit moves you and time permits. The important thing here is to come to the page for some minutes everyday. Don't set a goal so undoable as to undermine your resolution to write everyday.

Every Day

2012-01-07T08:26:00.001-05:00

Some time ago I bought a book. I'm always buying books, Kindle editions and real paged in your hands tactile books, so what's the big deal? The book I'm referring to for today's post is titled ; the daily WRITER by Fred White.
It's a book with 366 meditations to help a would-be, wannabe writer, cultivate a productive and meaningful writing life. 366 makes sure you don't miss a day even in a leap year such as the current year. The premise proffered by all who would advise would-be writers is to establish a habit of writing everyday. I asked myself why there are so many books doling out the same advice. Every writer is looking for the golden key, the magic clue or clues to becoming the next Hemingway or Dan Brown. I'd be satisfied to write like Wendell Berry. And since the answer is too simple, new advisers spew out the same advice in their own renditions and make some pocket change by selling their book to those seeking the holy grail of writing. Bottom line: write Every Day.

on page, oh wait; the pages aren't numbered per se. Page January 2 is titled: contemplating art. The assignment: contemplate a piece of art of your choice and then write a one page story in which you enter that piece of art. And describe how you interact with your surroundings.
"Hello there passerby."
"excuse me, "
No, you're not losing your mind. You can hear me because of your interest. Yes. I saw you glancing at me multiple times and kibitzing with your paramour there beside you."

I ask Di. if she heard anything. Giving me a puzzled look she says, "like what?"
"Nothing," I say, "I thought I heard someone talking."

"OK I'll play along. I think to myself."

"Do you know who I am?"

"I like that statue of David, Di., I say out loud. "What do you think?"
"Yeah, I like it. Let's go in and see how much they want for him."

"Smart girl you have there! You're right of course, I'm a knock off of Michelangelo's famous sculpture, David, in Florence, Italy."

"How come I hear you but my wife doesn't"

"I talk to everyone who passes by but most pass by without notice."

"I still don't understand," I think.

"Let me tell you a story. In the year 1501 a 26 year old sculptor named Michelangelo was walking by a large piece of marble that had been partially chiseled by an earlier artist who, under the influence of the great Donatello, attempted to create a commissioned statue. Later Antonio Rossilino was commissioned to take up the work but did not do so. Michelangelo heard a voice speak to him from the block of marble. It said, "Oh great artist to be, please free me from my marble tomb." Michelangelo appealed to Operai to grant him the commission, which they did. On Monday September 13, 1501 Michelangelo began the task of releasing the biblical hero,David from his marble tomb. Of Course he was guided along by the voice of David, until on 8 September 1504 The masterpiece was unveiled."

"That's a pretty fantastical story, all the same, and talking marble figures is a little hard to fathom."

"All the same, you are hearing my voice. Each replica of the David carries the ability to communicate with novice artists and offer to help them reach their potential."

"You think I'm an artist?" I laugh.

"The fact that you hear my voice is proof enough that an artist resides with in you. Take me home with you and I'll be you mentor."

"Diane," I say to my wife who's talking with the salesman, "Let's buy the statue of David that's in the display window."

"The price is $46.95, but we can have it for $35.00 plus tax " Di tells me.

That was in 1967 and although well worn and chipped, David adorns my dresser still and admonishes me daily; write, write today, write now; write everyday.

"OK David, I'm on the page........................

"Uh Bob, Could you get the dust rag and clean me up?"

Dreamstate while awake

2012-01-06T04:47:00.000-05:00

I've been a blogger for 69 months; since May 2006 and I'm wondering if I haven't exhausted my treasure chest of ideas, knowledge, and thoughts on erudite topics. Probably not, but it does get harder to find something interesting to blog about. This is especially true if when blogging or searching for a topic one is thinking about an audience. If you step away from blogging for any amount of time, that is, fail to come to the page or fail to comment on other blogs, your following will diminish to Google searches, "next blog" searches and perhaps, occasionally, a family member or close friend will pop over to see if you've come out of your shell. That's kind of freeing in a way; one feels freer to write anything, and everything that comes to mind and to hell with what "My readers" will like. We'll see!

Dreams. I've been dreaming of late. Of late being the last couple of years or less. "They" say that everybody dreams, but for the longest time of my adulthood I have little recollection of dreaming. I mean that I've commented aloud at the time that I wonder why I don't dream. I know dreams are forgotten within the first 5 minutes of awaking. That's not what I mean. I just never awakened with the knowledge of having dreamed anything. It was different as a child. I had all the requisite dreams about paralyzing fear and chase scenes, erotic dreams and nocturnal emissions and premonitory dreams especially about dead relatives or soon to be dead relatives.

Now once again I'm dreaming; nothing bizarre or unsettling, but actually the process if not the content is comforting in a way. You know, that feeling that you've joined the click, that you're like everybody else. Well any way that's where I'm at. That said, back in the days of Poetry Thursday (a poetry (duh) blog) I did awaken with a poem in my head, from time to time. that necessitated my quickly arising and writing it down first thing upon awaking. That hasn't happened in a while.

This morning's dream scene in the waking moments was a beach, camp scene including my friend Leigh, and Katie and many assorted and unknown kids and the ocean and swimming and towels and well of course I've forgotten the the memory now but that's the gist of it.
Maybe I should come to the keyboard and immediately write my remembered awaking dreams. Who cares; nobody will read it here and I'll feel freer to speak/write naturally.

Update on open window in winter

2012-01-05T04:18:00.001-05:00

The story goes,
"I was in the apartment on Saturday to install a wi-fi for the computer and was cooking some pizza. The oven started smoking. I haven't used the oven in quite awhile so I don't know what happened. Anyway, I opened the window to let the smoke out.

The window is not on the windward side so it shouldn't have been a problem."

Oh OK, minus 4 degrees F. and the open window is over a sink; no chance the pipes could freeze.

Cool.

Speaking of cool; it's currently 27 degrees outside so I'm going out for a 2 mile walk. No really!

Imagine my surprise........

2012-01-04T05:46:00.000-05:00

I was on call last night for anesthesia and therefore stayed at the "Frat House." The Frat House being the apartment that Dane, myself and Joe rent for the express purpose of having a place to stay when on call, since all 3 of us live too far away to take on-call from home.

The apartment can be empty for any number of days during a month when none of the three of us are on call. To minimize the electric bill (the apartment has electric heat) we turn the thermostat down to 45 degrees when we leave in the morning.

With the influx of frigid temps to the area yesterday and projected into double digit below zero F. degrees last night, I expected the apartment to be on the coldish side when I arrived at 4 pm. And indeed the thermometer inside read 52 degree. I turned the thermostat up to 70 hoping that my bed would be warmer when bedtime rolled around.

I was washing a dirty bowl that I found in the sink and noticed that the window above the sink was open a good 6 to 8 inches. If I recall correctly, none of the frat house denizens were on call over the holiday weekend so that the last time any of us were here in on call status would have been last Thursday. We enjoyed some milder temps on New year's day but the rest of the 4 day weekend was pretty cold. I hesitate to image what catastrophe might have ensued if no one had been on call last night. "Frozen water pipes?"

I'm reminded of the situation a few months ago when I discovered that the oven had been left on at 350 degrees for in excess of three days.

I know who left the oven on and the same person was on call last Thursday. I'll mention the open window to him this morning at work and express my concern that with the apartment being unoccupied so frequently we must increase our efforts to make sure everything is copacetic before we leave.

2012-01-03T04:26:00.003-05:00

Winter 's arrival

0330 and walking, still bleary eyed, to the backroom to feed kitty, I glance at the inside display of the inside/outside thermometer and see that the forecast from last night is right on; the temp outside registered 9.9 degrees F.

Debating whether to walk (that is walk 2 miles for exercise) outside and risk frost bite or to submit to the boredom of the Nordic Track or treadmill, I come to the keyboard to render my daily FB status report and to come here to blogger to practice write.

It's now 0424 and if I don't make my way to my garage gym is the next 6 minutes it'll be an outside excursion upon arrival at my work place. So; ta ta.

2012-01-02T08:55:00.002-05:00

What are you doing New Years; New Years Eve?

Di: "rel, come here quick"!!!

Di is in the downstairs bathroom. rel is sitting on the heat register in the adjacent living room.

rel: "At my age quick doesn't compute. What's the matter"?

Di: "You're not going to be happy!"

Upon entering the bathroom my eyes follow the trajectory of her finger and I see a bulge in the ceiling of our recently remodeled bathroom and water is dripping down the wall and onto the storage cabinet.

Standing there, my mind awash in words and phrases not fit to print, Di says, "what are we going to do"?

I'm computing: Shut off the water to the upstairs bathroom. Where is the shut off; is it in the cellar? Did Willie leave the shutoffs in the laundry room during the renovation? With due haste I make my way around the house to the laundry room and espy the shut off valves with bleeders and think OK good, but darn, OK I did say damn-it or some such superlative, the valves and bleeders were located behind the washer in the corner and nearly inaccessible. But access them I did and was able to shut off the valves and bleed the lines.

Within the hour the bulge receded almost completely and by morning there was no longer any bulge. Diane called the home of the contractor, who had done the renovation, and spoke to his wife and told her the situation. She said she would tell her husband, when he returned, and have him call. Di told her that we were going out to the neighbors for the evening and to have him call in the morning.

In retrospect it appears that we discovered the problem in its early stages. My initial thought was a burst water pipe. The puzzling thing about that, though, was that we've been through two winters prior to this one without problems and much colder temperatures then.

Willie came up the next morning and we trouble-shot the problem and found a small trickling leak where the water line feeds into the toilet reservoir. Such a small leak failed to garner our notice he said because there was no accumulation of water on the floor. Rather, the trickle just ran down the inlet hose and through the access hole in the floor.

The good news is: no frozen water pipes and minimal damage to the ceiling that willie says can be easily repaired when the leak area dries out.

A new toilet and pluming accoutrement's will be installed Wednesday.

2012-01-01T09:20:00.000-05:00

Another year older........

I find the nice thing about New Year's celebrations is the sense of renewal; we get another chance to accomplish goals we didn't quite mange to finish, get to, or stay on task with in the previous 12 months. Yup, every 365 days we can choose to recommit to whatever we want to..........

We pause here to remind the multitude of readers flocking to my blog for inspiration that this year you are given an extra day to get'r done; 2012 is a Leap year.

I went back to my New Year's 2011 post to see what pearls of wisdom I laid down and discovered that while I admitted that I don't often make New Year resolutions I recanted enough to resolve to make an effort to do a blog post everyday for the year 2011. I did pretty well in January but even there I fell short of my goal. The year's posts declined more and more over the year and in fact I think Oct. got only a single post. I claim no excuse; I was too lazy, period. Now that said, I'll mention in my defense that I did put up a status update on Facebook everyday or pretty darn near so. Also, I signed up for, and took to completion, a college course at the Empire State College without walls, in creative nonfiction. So from September through the middle of December I did in fact do a pile of writing, reading and revising. And the payoff was an A in the course. Yes I neglected my blog but not my writing.

In years of my youth I was believer, or want to be believer in magic, witchcraft, divination, hypnosis for less than upright purposes, prophecy, and all related manner of slight of hand to include also astrology. Even drifting away from those beliefs as age accumulated it's been nearly impossible to ignore the publicity and media attention given to the Mayan calendar's end, on 21 December 2012, as meaning the END.

I'm 99% willing to pooh-pooh this and believe that life and time will go on and, God willing and the creek don't rise, me and mine will be here to celebrate Christmas 2012.

BUT:

But what if it's true? Lord o' mercy, if it is true what, alas will we do? Well here's one thing that I'm 100% sure of; nobody gets outta here alive, and if we're all going to leave on the same day; well that calls for a celebration, don't you agree. So I propose that we suspend all unkindness, personal and world wide, for one year or as close to that as is possible given the dire prediction. Suspend all war and hostilities, all murder, mayhem, rape, and slaughter of populations. Lay aside, Just for one year, come-on you can do it for one year; all avarice, wrath, greed, sloth, pride, lust, envy, and gluttony. Let's be a little more loving and charitable for 365 days, then, heck, we can go back to our mean and selfish ways. Whatta ya say? Willing to give it a try? I mean, everybody says how fast the year went by.... Hell, we're all gonna die together anyway, so why not?

With that in mind, here are my resolutions for 2012:

Be kinder to everyone but especially to those closest to me.
Think positively more, cynically less.
write
read
reduce my calorie intake
continue my exercise regimen and try to stay on task with out excuse.
Lend a helping hand before being asked.

What are your resolutions for this end of the world leap year?

2011-12-25T07:22:00.000-05:00

HO-HO-HO; Merry Christmas boys and girls

2011

I have to say that 2011 is the year Facebook was the Grinch that stole my blog.

Facebook offers instant communication with friends and acquaintances and is a forum for bullet statements in place of longer prose pieces. This allure sucks up the impetus to publish one's thoughts in the longer forum and substitutes a venue to do so without spending too much time. In the end though,FB ends up taking up more of my time than my blog ever did. Now I feel like I've abandoned a good friend for the flamboyant floozy and find I miss my old friend. So here at Christmas where tradition and memories of good times past take center stage, it's time to revisit the forum that gave my thoughts a voice for the past number of years.

Tradition. Over time, from one generation to another, traditions alter and change. At first it's barely noticeable but in time you realize that only the shell, remnants of the old ways have been drawn along to the future. In our family, Christmas was always celebrated in the home where the young children dwelled and everyone from grandparents to grown siblings tried to be present at that home come Christmas morning. For us, that meant all the trappings of Christmas took place at the manse in Morristown. Time moved along, as it inevitably does, and those children became adults and flew the coup. Grandparents die and siblings marry and drift far and wide. As our children become parents and have children we become the grandparents, the address that Santa visits changes. Hopefully that spot is close enough for grandma and grandpa to visit on Jesus' birthday. In our case our first two grand-daughters have spent their lives 2500 miles away in the State of Texas. Fortunately my job enabled us to travel to Texas in the first week of December and spend an early Christmas with those girls, but "Christmas" continued to take place in the place we've called home since 1975. Three years ago I changed jobs and because of vacation choices had to sacrifice the Texas trip. Then 2 years ago a new grand-daughter was born to the family just 4 1/2 hours away and the venue for Christmas day changed.

So the tradition of family traveling to the home where the young children live still holds. As does grandma's cinnamon buns first thing Christmas morning. Grandma and grandpa are still the first ones up to see what Santa has wrought. That's a hold over from when we were kids and were always up first. Our kids rarely got up before us , but rather had to be called to the tree with sleep seeds still in their eyes on Christmas morn. My brother and his family will be in Tennessee this year and my sister and her husband will travel to Watertown to celebrate with her husband's parents. Di's sister and her husband won't stop by Christmas day night as they return from Lowville. Our daughter and her husband will travel here to Niagara Falls to join us in the celebration. Tourtiere and biscotti will grace the table. Both sets of grandparents will be in attendance and we'll open one gift at a time so that everyone gets to enjoy who got what from whom.

While the core of our tradition remains, the fringes change with the passing of time. Venues change and participants are added and subtracted. But the rock this holiday is founded on remains steadfast; We know in our hearts that this day is a celebration of Jesus Christ's birth. We believe in what he stands for.

And Santa Clause? Do we believe in him too? Well I'll tell you what I told my children when they each reached the age of questioning whether Santa was real: When you stop believing in Santa he'll stop coming to visit. And I'll add today; If you stop believing in Jesus............................!

Merry Christmas to my blog family, former and current.

2011-12-18T14:52:00.000-05:00

image: Lee Friedlander, 1966 provide by Tess at Magpie Tales

What I've always
Admired about you
Is your willingness
To share;
For you a moustache,
For me some hair.

A bow tie toupee
Tops a newel post
finial breast plate.

Smiling at your
Expression of surprise;

OH!

2011-12-12T05:04:00.001-05:00

"knock knock; anybody home"

2011-11-27T10:09:00.001-05:00

Magpie # 93

Christine Donnier-Valentin's photo provided

Tess @ Magpietales

Old sofas never die.

Even on streets discarded;

They just look that way.

2011-11-20T12:09:00.001-05:00

For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul. – Judy Garland

Photo provided by Tess at Magpie Tales.
newman/woodward

Gazes meet

across time and space.

fingers touch

hands clasp

closing time and space.

arms encircle

bodies iron

lips graze

tongues duel__

molten emotion erupts

uncontained

filling time and space.

2011-11-11T05:25:00.001-05:00

“I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its futility, its stupidity.”
Dwight David Eisenhower

11.11.11: Veterans Day in The United States.
To be true to the day's origin we can add another 11 to signify the eleventh hour. So now we have 11.11.11.11. We humans like repeating numbers and ascribe all sorts of meaning to them. I'm not too sure if there is any significance other than that; we like to see repeating numbers and make up meaning to them.

We also like to say that we prefer peace and or peaceful coexistence, but all of human behavior, history belies the fact. We are a warring species. We give meaning to arbitrary repeating numbers and we come up with repeating reasons of justification for going to war; Period!
A celebration to honor America's veterans for their patriotism, love of country, and willingness to serve and sacrifice for the common good.

Did you know that in the year 1111 the crusaders and the Seljuk Turks fought the drawn battle of Shaizar in Syria?

I enlisted in the U.S. Navy in 1962, before I was old enough to be drafted, not because I wanted to go to war, but rather because I'd been a lackadaisical student in high school and thereby denied myself access to any institutions of higher learning. Of course there was the added romanticism of glory bestowed by association; wearing of the sailor's uniform, in my thoughts, portrayed heroism, patriotism and love of country, a way to feel as well as look important. A young man in uniform in those days was looked upon with respect for nothing more than wearing the uniform. War was the farthest thing from my mind. Oh sure, I was aware that as a service member I could be called upon to do my duty and defend my country but we were at peace, so what were the chances? the risk was slight. Enlist, learn a skill, get out honorably and get a job, a wife, a bungalow, have kids and raise a family and live happily ever after, that was my plan, my dream.

But war came as it inevitably does and again I volunteered. Now that was purely for the romantic ideal I'd witnessed innumerous times in the movies with the likes of Audie Murphy, John Wayne and such. I'm fairly certain that I would have completed my enlistment in the safety of a stateside assignment had I not volunteered to participate in the escalating conflict beginning in Vietnam. Add to that the prestige associated with serving with the U.S. Marine Corps as a Navy hospital corpsman. That alone raised the bar. Man am I something or what? A Navy corpsman serving with the ever prestigious Marines ( you know, the same Marines that raised the flag on Mt. Suribachi) helping save the world from the spread of communism. I'll be revered in my community back home if not the entire country and be the envy of all my friends.

Getting shot by a stranger erases any thoughts of idealism. A gunshot turns a dreamer into a pragmatist instantly.

Many Americans throughout history enlisted, volunteered, in time of conflict and war for altruistic reasons and a willingness to sacrifice life and limb for the cause and I admire them for that. I was not one of them. I do believe that a little romanticism entered into their decisions and, as well, it must be recognized how peer pressure effects enlistments in time of war.

Have you read Stephen Crane's "The Red Badge of Courage?"

I'm a veteran; I went to war, took the metal and got my medals, came home to respect if not acclaim. No one thanked me for my service but nobody called me baby killer either. I came out no less the dreamer I'd always been but a man of greater worldliness and maturity; the understanding of war; it's reasons and it's face-to-facedness.

We veterans fight and fought or were willing too for reasons good and bad, but for reasons that we thought were preserving the American way : the freedoms granted by our Constitution, and the principles set forth in our Declaration of independence.

We fought so other Americans could burn the American flag, or occupy wall street. We stuck our chins out to give you the right to denigrate us without repercussion. So whether you like us, respect us or not; a 'thank you' is greatly appreciated.

2011-10-12T04:46:00.003-04:00

We're leaving in a couple of hours for Corpus Christi to attend the wedding of Our son Bob and his bride Vanessa.

Magpie #84 Barb's funeral

2011-09-25T12:49:00.000-04:00

The funeral was yesterday.
A big church, in a small hamlet,
Filled almost to capacity---
The pastor commented.
A celebration of life
projected on the wall,
Photos
Of moments in a long life
Cut short.

Amen
and Hallelujah!!!
they celebrated the last nine
Years of life.
little or no
mention
Of the fuller life that filled that
out-of-the-way
Church
in the woods.

The rain fell
on the sunny day.
The birds
accompanied
God's faithful daughter home.

And WE
said our farewells........

Adirondack 90 miler 2011

2011-09-13T12:55:00.001-04:00

2011 Adirondack Canoe Classic

29th Annual

"The 90-Miler"

This canoe race is a big deal. Even if you've done it 29 times, 20 times, or only once; everytime, it's a big deal.
With no less than 57 sponsors and hundreds of volunteers coordinating everything from safety to environmental responsibility, this one event stands out as the gold standard of canoe/kayaking paddling events.

Kudos to Grace and Brian McDonnell of MAC's Canoe Livery. Without their devotion this event would not be the success it is and has been for decades. Imagine the task of coordinating the efforts of the NYS DEC, law enforcement personnel, amateur radio operators ( little or no cell phone access along the race course), and search and rescue teams.
This is not the minor leagues folks; this is a big deal!
While this year marks the 7th time Leigh and I have done "the 90 miler" it is the 5th time as registered participants. Our first two times were done as bandits; the colloquialism for those paddlers who do the race without the sanction of the 90 miler team. None of the protections, aids, water and energy snacks provided the registered racers are afforded to bandits; you're on your own.
Day one: from Old Forge NY to Blue Mountain Lake, NY. 34 miles, 4 carries = 3.5 miles.
Every year presents something different. Usually, the biggest difference is the unpredictable weather and water conditions. This year, all three days were picture perfect: bright, sunny, not too hot, and calm water for the most part. (The washing machine on Racquette Lake, while rough, was on the low setting this year.) Something you might lose sight of during the years of colder, windier, more inclement weather is the great numbers of biting insects that dwell within the Adirondack mountains. When we entered the portion of the route called Browns Tract we were assaulted be a fierce biting fly; bigger than a black fly and smaller than a deer fly and with the genetic traits of a kamikaze pilot. Our ankles and feet were under constant attack. Since it was impossible to paddle and swat flies at the same time, we would wait until a swarm accumulated and then stop and murder a few. Of course this only encouraged the rest to come in for a larger share of the booty.

If that weren't enough, a gradually worsening tendonitis began to plague my left hand and wrist making pulling a paddle with that hand next to impossible. Mental not to self: next year remember the preemptive dose of ibuprofen prior to starting. Amazingly, despite fly warfare and paddling with one arm, our finish time was only 16 minutes longer than last year, and only 2 minutes longer than 2009. Go figure.

Recovery in Blue Mountain Lake consisted of chocolate milk gifted by sponsor Byrne Dairy, and bananas.

Preparations for days two and three included, sun screen, liberal spraying of Deep Woods Off, Ibuprofen, and duct tape to fingers (a blister prevention technique.).

Saturday Day 2 was sponsored by Byrne Dairy.

Distance: 33 miles. Carries: 1 = 1.25 miles From Long Lake to Tupper Lake, NY

An early morning, picturesque, lifting mist greets us at the beginning of day two where we will start by paddling 12.5 miles down the length of Long Lake and into the Racquette river. We will follow the river to the finish at"the Crusher". The portage is a mountain climb around the Racquette Falls. This entire day was like a meditative, hypnosis paddle through a Currier and Ives Adirondack scene; peaceful and serene.

Due to Hurricanes Irene and Lee, the water levels, throughout the 90 mile course, were from 1 to 2 feet higher than usual for this time of year and made the paddle even more enjoyable. Exiting and entry for portages posed some different but not insurmountable challenges.

Looking down Long Lake from the Bridge in Long Lake, NY

paddling down Long Lake. Taken from shore in front of Long Lake Motel.

Leigh relaxing at Long Lake Motel after Day Two.

rel relaxing at Long Lake Motel after Day 2.

Sunday DAY three (10 anniversary of 9/11)

Distance: 22 Miles Carries; 3 = .6 miles

From Fish Creek Ponds to Lake Flower In Saranac Lake; traversing, Upper Saranac Lake, Middle Saranac Lake, Lower Saranac Lake, First and Second pond, Lake Oseetah and into Lake Flower.

It seems that we finally find our groove on day three and everything falls into place; timing, turn over, paddle depth, lines of approach and portage smoothness. It has always been our best time.

Once we arrive at Riverside park in Saranac Lake to the fanfare of the finish line there is a picnic lunch and the awards ceremony where trophies and mileage pins are distributed to those qualifying.

My long range goal as far as the "90 Miler" goes is to earn entry into the Gold Canoe Club.

To receive this honor a recipient must have participated in and completed 20 Adirondack Canoe Classics from Old Forge to Saranac Lake.

I've five behind me, so only 15 more to go. I'll be 80 years old by then , so wish me luck!!

start at Fish Creek

and they're off........................

chow time

5 years X 90 miles = 450 miles.

photos by Diane Aubrey LaRock

29th Adirondack Ninety Mile Conoe race 2011

2011-09-08T14:34:00.000-04:00

Adirondack 90 Miler

It's that time of year again. Leigh and I will motor south shortly for the 7th time in as many years to challenge the elements and waterways of the Adirondacks.

The 3 day, 90 mile course will test our endurance and perseverance. Every year brings a new adventure to add to our repertoire of tales to tell in the years to come. From the first year when we paddled well into the night, to the time we capsized due to fatigue to last years rough weather. So rough was the third and last day of last years race, that prior to the starting gun the race director announced that every paddler must don their pfd before starting out. I looked at Leigh and said, "I think we're in for it today bud." We were fortunate to finish in Saranac Lake on Lake flower because many did not. Quite a few boats capsized in the wind tossed lakes and had to be rescued.

The weather report for this year looks ideal, but we all know about weather and weather reports, now don't we?

We are already late in leaving. Leigh is an obstetrician and the best laid plans are frequently upset by a woman in labor. That first year, the one where we paddled after dark, Leigh and Karen didn't pull in to Old Forge 'til one o'clock in the morning. We were on the water at 0800 the next morn.

Here's hoping we won't repeat that today.

2011-09-03T17:30:00.002-04:00

It seems to me that this word/concept "rights" gets mixed up and confused with words like "obligations", and "responsibilities." and just as often we have trouble determining what form of of government we really have, as in "republic vs democracy.
Unless one is a student of government You don't care much: when life, as you experience it, is good and things are going your way, for the most part.
It's when we have high unemployment, houses selling for a fraction of their cost and interest is at 4% and you can't afford to buy in the buyer's market, when gas prices rise to a level 1/2 or less the price in other developed countries, and obesity is the biggest health problem in the country, and healthcare costs are shooting over the moon, that we look somewhere to point the finger of blame and voice our displeasure.

... Hey, why not the government, the system? Yeah, it's a systems problem; let's change the system. Or, let's send a message by doing nothing and then "they'll" see that "they" have to change things. You see "they" don't have rights, "they" only have obligations. We have rights.
The problem here is that, by your way of thinking, rights has the upper hand over obligation.
Is that not a good thing? Individuals rights first? Rights, like most things in nature, have to be exercised in order to be maintained. The use it or lose it principle comes to the fore here. Sure you can sit on your butt and do nothing, it's your right afterall. You have the right to smoke, to overeat and become obese and burden your fellow citizens to care for you when you suffer the backlash of your indulging your rights.

Yes you have the right, under our democratic republic to burden your neighbors, your community, your fellow citizens, and to threaten, by so doing, their rights. Realize that, when threatened, a retaliatory response is usually forth-coming. In this case: they'll take away your right to burden them.

Having lived all my life in this flawed but democratic country and not being black or female, I can not adequately describe for you what it might be like to live in a country where the populace doesn't have the right to vote. There are still countries in this world where the right to NOT vote is not only encouraged but enforced. Go live in one of those countries as one of the oppressed class without the right to vote for a year or ten. If you get out alive, come back and tell us how not voting worked for you.

2011-08-31T04:57:00.002-04:00

When I get up in the wee hours of the morning, here at the cottage on the banks of the river bordering our neighbors in Canada, the night is black and the river invisible. Across the wide expanse, a spattering of lights bleakly dot the night horizon. Occasionally the quiet is interrupted by a series of 10 to15 waves washing the shore. And we know a ship has passed in the night. If said ship be under diesel power it telegraphs it's coming and passing by the steady drumming of it's pistons throbbing through the night air.

Regularly a freight train whistles it's passing, through the countryside across the way; it's sound effortlessly traversing the open space above the river and lets us feel that is nearer to our door.

Tonight, I stand at the window to peer at the blackness and my gaze is greeted by the lights of a great lakes "laker" anchored just down river a 1/2 mile or so. It is lit up so brightly as to make me think that a city has materialized magically from the depths of our majestic river. From past experience I know that with the dawning of the morn. this city will churn up river and be gone from the sight of those arising too late to witness the magic of their river in the night.

2011-08-28T13:10:00.000-04:00

COCKSCOMB

Magpietales #80

Their feathers shorn

he leaves the shop

Cockscomb bright.

The night is young

Rain washed clean.

A different shearing

Awaits. The

rubber shod figure

will soon crow.

2011-08-15T05:10:00.001-04:00

Magpie # 78

Photo by Tess Kincaid

Boys room,

Wall paper

Hangs

Brittle, tattered

Forlorn.

underneath;

pellets,

Shotgun blast?

2011-08-14T20:27:00.001-04:00

BOSTON

Aug 2011

We spent this past week in Boston, Massachusetts. In the six days that we inhabited a space in the Colonnade hotel’s 9^th floor we did a number of things, but not nearly as much as was available. The New York Yankees were in town for a series which is always a big deal in Boston and this weekend the Red Sox came out on top so that made it an even bigger deal. We did not avail ourselves of that particular Boston attraction. We did however witness the jubilation of fans in the street and hallway adjacent to our room in the wee hours of the morning. It wasn’t a distraction only an observation.

USS Constitution & Bunker Hill monument; rel

Boston was the venue for my professional association’s annual meeting this year and I chose this meeting for the particular reason that it was in Boston. We’ve been to Boston before and taken in many of the sights including all the places along the Freedom Trail and always find ourselves passing a few hours at the Quincy Market. This trip was different. It rained all week; not all day everyday but on the day I chose to skip the meeting activities and partake of the Boston Trolley tour it did rain throughout the tour including the included harbor tour boat ride. Even so, the running patter from the Trolley drivers was an enjoyable recap of age old history lessons and included some events that I’d never heard of before; like the 2,300,000 US gallon molasses flood in January 1919. So, aside from attending the meeting at the Hynes Convention Center, the few things we did enjoy this trip were different from any of our previous trips to Boston.

Twice before we’ve driven the entire 7 ½ hour trip from home to Boston and believe me once was too many times when you include driving in the city of Boston. I’d rather drive in NYC than in Boston. Another time we stayed outside Boston and took the train in to the city; very good choice! Once we drove to Albany and left our car at our daughter’s home and proceeded on via Amtrak which is also a nice way to do the excursion. This time air service was available from home to Boston by way of Albany: a two hour trip, in the air, is inexpensive and very convenient. The 9 passenger plane flies between 4 and 10 thousand feet and truly gives one the birds-eye-view of the landscape.

Boston Harbor, photo by Google

MTA tickets, Google photo

Our hotel’s restaurant, Brasserie JO, is done in authentic French design both décor and menu; so much so that we ate three different meals there: bkfst, lunch and dinner. Other dining establishments we visited were Cheese Cake Factory, Chart House, Legal Seafood’s, California Pizza Kitchen, and Limoncello’s. Limoncello is a family owned restaurant in the North end of Boston; Little Italy. They make their own Limoncello. Dining is expensive in Boston but you do get great quality for your money.

Chart House, Google photo

Hynes convention cntr, Google photo

The big highlights of this trip was getting together with an old friend who was inclined to tell everyone we met that I had a great influence on his choosing Nurse anesthesia as a career. Also at this meeting I met the two current student nurse anesthetists whom I had sponsored, enabling them to attend the national convention. Passing the torch to the younger generation is as fulfilling as success at the head of the bed.

Boston Trolley, google photo

2011-08-05T06:09:00.000-04:00

D. and I will be hopping on board the puddle jumper out of the 'burg this afternoon for a 2 hour transit to the great city of Boston, Mass. Looking forward to revisiting my favorite U.S. city. It's been too long since we've been there.

The occasion is the annual meeting of my professional organization; AANA.

I'm not a big fan of the Annual mtg. because the emphasis is on the politics and business of the association. And while I think these things important, I prefer meetings where the emphasis is on clinical acumen. But the mtg is in Boston and therein lies my motivation. I've attended a handful of Annual meetings in my 39 years of living my dream and administering anesthesia in the clinical setting. There is always an ulterior motive when I choose the Annual mtg for my yearly continuing education conference. The mtg is moved to cities around the country to make it convenient for the membership to attend when it is scheduled in their area.

Boston being my favorite city to visit means that whenever the mtg is held there I will attend. I went to the meeting in San Francisco for the sole purpose of meeting our middle sons in-laws. We attended the mtg. in New Orleans to meet up with old anesthesia school classmates. We did go to a Chicago mtg back in the days before they stared moving the mtg. around the country and it was always there in Chicago. That's when I was young and new to the profession. Gung ho and wanting to participate in the political process, so I took in my first annual meeting in Chicago.

I prefer to attend the meetings of Dannemiller in Texas and the NAFA mtg in Williamsburg, but since I already have my required continuing education credits I'll avail myself of the opportunity to walk the "Freedom Trail" and scope out Newberry st. and well just get reacquainted with Boston.

2011-07-19T04:59:00.004-04:00

Magpie Tales: # 74

photo by Tess Kincaid

Falseface

I dare not face

You alone.

This amalgam face

created to scare

you and company.

Armored, this face

reinforces my courage,

Allowing me to face

My fears.

2011-07-17T07:51:00.000-04:00

Time Flies...............................

But what minutes! Count them by sensation, and not by calendars, and each moment is a day. ~Benjamin Disraeli

Photo by Neal Fowler

It's hard to fathom that a month worth of days has come and gone. More than that, a fifteen year old grand-daughter causes me to ponder where those years have gone. In addition, two more grand-daughters have materialized from out of the ether, or the loins of their parents, which ever you prefer. To decry the passage of time or the quickness with which good times always seem to progress would be to deny the pleasures that follow in the ensuing days.

Each child has brought joy to us, each in her own way; no two the same. They have touched our lives as we theirs, and in a positive way I like to think. And so too with our children. This past 30 days has been a continuous sequence of activity and idleness. we watch with awe and wonder as a 20 month old establishes her place in the family tree; developing different relationships with everyone she meets. Observing the studiousness of the oldest together with her mothering qualities as she interacts with her 20 month old cousin gives assurance of the woman she is becoming. The 10 year old is witty, smart, and full of zest. She is observant and inquisitive. Keeping up with her quips would require a pencil and notebook in hand constantly. One of the most refreshing qualities, exemplified in all three, is their total honesty; refreshing when compared to the political environment we are inundated with by the media on a daily basis.

As the gift of grand parenthood is opened I come closer to understanding the adage: Luke 18:17 "I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it."

To help me realize that even though time seems to pass in the snap of one's fingers, we packed a ton of activity into those days:
Swimming
Strawberry picking
Raspberry picking
swimming
kayaking
walking, some times with a stroller
shopping at a farmer's market
shopping; clothes, roller skates
high Tea in Ottawa at the Chateau Laurier
Montreal: food, language, heritage, and train rides
Cemetery visits and grave maintenance.
Driving lesson.
Helping grandma with cooking, baking and meal planning.
reading, reading to
counting in English, french and Spanish
hammock lying
camp fires
Smores
Swimming
Renewing neighborly friendships
duck feeding
tenting; set up, sleep in
earwigs
BBQs
feeding the birds. watching an osprey catch a fish with it's "hands"
green heron watching and photographing
Hanging laundry on the line.
swimming
cementing cousinly relationships
enjoying aunts and uncles
ice cream making
there was even time to watch DVDs, TV, and stay current on Facebook
Oh, and Momma; all the home work was finished!
Flower picking from grandma's gardens
We even found time to sleep
restaurant dining at home and abroad
swimming

It's hard to believe that we fit all that and more into such a short time!

2011-07-07T09:24:00.002-04:00

time for a blog update. Past time actually, I have no excuses......

The weekend of June 25th, we took the girls to Montreal, Canada. We boarded the Via Rail train in Brockville, Ca., (a thirty minute drive from the cottage). The girls were disappointed at the port of entry to Canada that the custom and immigration inspectors wouldn't stamp their brand new, first ever passports. We'll try again today when we go over to Brockville for fish and chips.

The train ride takes just shy of two hours and put us into centre ville station only a few block walk to Vieux Montreal. Old Montreal was where we intended to spend our 2 days exposed to french speaking Canadiens. We hoteled at the Le Westin, which was very nice. the girls stay for "free" in the suite. By coincidence, our daughter and her husband were also in Montreal that weekend and also staying at the Westin. they were there to see a friend, Max, & Nancy, of our son-in-law that he had met overseas. We met them briefly but for the most part we all did our own thing.

The weather for Saturday called for rain so before exiting the train station umbrellas were purchased and we were all glad of that later in the day.

After checking in at the hotel we walked down to a favorite restaurant, Marche de la Villette, on rue St. Paul and enjoyed a delicious repast. The place was crowed and busy but our waiter payed special attention to the girls and they enjoyed the time spent there.

A block or so down the street from the bistro, some unseen hand un-zipped a dark rain cloud overhead and the rain poured out in a mini deluge. Des parapluies were employed and offered protection for everything except shoes and pant legs. Undeterred by the rain we did plenty of window shopping, souvenir buying, and food sampling. Saturday night we made our way down to the waterfront to watch a spectacular fireworks display put on by the country of China. Their theme for the display was, Kung Fu.
The girls were a little bummed due to the lateness of the hour and so didn't appreciate the show as much as they might have. I was fatigued myself but was impressed by the 30 minute pyrotechnical extravaganza.

Sunday was spent doing additional shopping and sharing a single meal on the terrace of the Caberet du Roy.

We took the last train home and arrived back at the cottage around 2100 full and satisfied with our foray into the French-Canadien culture.

Let me not forget to mention the local restaurant we ate breakfast at in Brockville before catching the train to Montreal. It is just Katty-corner from the station and a busier establishment I've never set foot in; standing in line for a table seems to be de rigueur.

The 4th of July weekend was enjoyed under perfect summer weather ( remember, as Dr. Jacobson used to say, we have two seasons up here: winter and the 4th of July). In addition to having our Texas grand daughters with us, their Uncle Jacob, aunt Kristy and 20 month old cousin Sophie made a whirl wind trip to enjoy the river and to enable Jay and Kristy to attend an impromptu class Reunion for Jay. My sister Julie and her husband Dennis came up to visit by the river for 2 days and Auntie Michelle and Uncle Josh, aka "Uncle Shagworthy", stayed for the whole of the holiday weekend, returning to Albany on Tuesday. And the Heiss' joined us for a picnic the evening of the 4th at the cottage.

There was plenty of beer drunk, BBQing, home-made ice cream eating, food et, swimming, kayaking, jart tossing, water balloon wars, Frisbee Kan-Jammin', book reading and parade and fireworks watching. Really, it don't get much better than that! Did I mention hammock swinging, sunbathing, and Limoncello sippin'. Other assorted alcoholic beverages were imbibed by those who will remain unnamed. Diane snuck in a baby shower at the neighbors. Sister Julie actually immersed her body in the frigid St. Lawrence for the first time since her teen years.

All-in-all a 4th worth a post on one's blog.

Missing: Bob Jr.& Vanessa. Jeff & Trish.

2011-06-24T05:59:00.000-04:00

I see the everyday world as a series of songs!!

********************************

When they don't tell you how much they've spent, but tell you how much they saved; You know it's a good thing you worked that day!!

********************************

Overcast today.

*******************************

On the road again........................................................

2011-06-23T05:48:00.000-04:00

Busy day yesterday; didn't get to camp 'til 5 pm. Rain attempted an appearance late in the afternoon but petered out before it could amount to anything.

This morning the thunder and lightening have been lighting up the Canadian skyline and dropping a few showers on this side of the river, but nothing steady yet. The forecast is for intermittent thunder storms throughout the day, so I'm fairly certain the ladies will be motoring to Watertown to peruse the mall. And yet they are women so a change of mind/plans would not surprise.

My day portends to be full. That's a good thing!

2011-06-22T05:27:00.000-04:00

The weather channel is predicting rain and thunder storms for later today. I suspect it's the storm from the Midwest making it's way to the Atlantic ocean. Right now it's another picture perfect morning on the river; sunrise casting a golden glow on the slightly rippling river, birds offering their lyrical praise to the day's awakening, and stillness. Stillness gives room in one's mind for contemplation.

I was on call Monday and therefore had to spend the night at the apartment (frat house), and we were supposed to have a department dinner mtg. last evening which would have necessitated staying over another night. Since we finished the schedule early, we decided to have our mtg in the OR lunch room and so I made it to camp by 2 pm yesterday and got to sample the baking efforts of D. and Crystal: banana muffins and fresh strawberry rhubarb pie. I must say they were scrumptious.

If it rains today the ladies are contemplating a shopping excursion.

We are a couple weeks late in taking up residence here at the camp and I note an absence of ducks, ducklings and geese. Although I'm told the geese made their unwelcome deposits regularly right up to two days before we arrived.

Grace came over with Lady, her cocker spaniel, last evening. She said they haven't moved in yet because the TV isn't hooked up yet. Gotta get those priorities straight. :)

Well it's shower and bkfst time and then the 30 minute trek to Massena.

Oh yeah, I discovered the treasure trove of audio CDs available at the Massena Library!!! Currently listening to John Steinbeck's "Of Mice and Men."

2011-06-20T05:52:00.001-04:00

The sunrise is well above the eastern horizon at the moment (0541) and the river is smoothish; just a hint of rippling. Earlier, when the night was fading away andthe full light of morn had not yet exposed the scene, the river was like a sheet of glass. As soon as the sun appeared, the river claps with joy and so; the ripples.

Thirty-one quarts in an hour!!

They taste as good as they look: sumptuous and succulent.

I see many drift-wood camp fires in the future.

Fish roe or aliens; which ever suits your imagination.

Winding down after a pleasant Father's Day

Off to work soon and on call to boot, so the girls will have to make do with grandpa today.

2011-06-19T20:50:00.001-04:00

We spent the night at the cottage last night. The temps dropped into the low 40s. This morning the sun was bright and the river calm; a more beautiful morning has not graced these shores. The river is inviting but the girls haven't progressed beyond their ankles. So that tells me that the river isn't inviting for a dip.

We had a real tasty breakfast prepared by grandma and made our lists for things to get from home. Once home laundry was started, strawberry cleaning commenced and the girls rediscovered grandpas sanctuary. Books were bagged and after perusing the antique camera collection, each chose one they would like to keep.

Back to the river and the cargo unloaded, Gracie from next door came over to welcome the girls. they hung out on Gracie's dock for an hour until Gracie and her family left. Then the girls agreed to go to the cemetery with me for the weekly maintenance and watering chores. We did a recap of the french side of the family tree to go along with the print out of the family tree that I printed out for them earlier while at the house.

Next up. BBQ the chicken, hammock napping (Hailey, not me :)) water wading for Crystal and collecting sea glass. After supper the girls sat and kibitzed in the hammock while grandma and I went online to purchase Via Rail tickets from Brockville to Montreal for next weekend and to obtain hotel accommodations. That done, we are winding down with a game of WAR for Grandma and Crystal. Hailey retired to the girls room to read and me? well here I am typing away on blogger.

The river is smooth as glass and the golden orb is sinking majestically into the Canadian landscape.

I got texted from Jacob, and calls from Michelle and Bob. All in all, a pretty spectacular Father's day.

2011-06-18T08:29:00.000-04:00

The granddaughters, ages 15 and 10, arrived at the Syracuse airport last evening from south Texas. There was only one small SNAFU in their flight itinerary; a delay in Cleveland for an hour. Grandma had paid the fee for unaccompanied minor so the girls were treated royally while they waited.

We did meatball subs at the local Subway, (just the girls. grandma and I ate pizza at the airport.) And grandpa bought a half gallon of cookies and cream ice cream for desert!

This morning we are off to the farmers market. The girls are excited because they've never been to a real live farmer's market. Then we will make the final move to the camp on the St. Lawrence and enjoy the sunny ambiance there. I'm sure these two Texan won't delay for long a plunge into the chilly St. Lawrence they've come to love over the past years.

Later this evening we'll be trekking over to Merkley's U-Pick the get the first fresh strawberries of the season; another favorite activity for these two.

Oops, gotta go; grandpa, come-on we're ready to go..........

ta ta.

2011-06-15T05:27:00.001-04:00

Lately it seems that I either don't have time to write a blog post or, as is more likely, I squander the time I do have on Facebook. So here I am writing a post when, by all rights, I should be in the shower, getting ready for work. I learned long ago that putting off 'til tomorrow or even later today is a prescription for tasks left undone if not forever, then close to it.

Have you ever contemplated what you would do if you won a big lottery payout, say in the millions or more? Of course you have, we all have. For the most part it's pie-in-the-sky dreaming but hey there are worse things to waste your thoughts on.

One of the things I've consistently said I'd do, if I won the lottery, is go to college and get a degree in literature, writing etc. Well, I didn't win the lottery but I did take a first step towards that goal. Last Monday I had an appointment to meet with a representative from Empire State College (NY State's college without walls) to investigate my options and get direction on how best to proceed. To curb my naturally tendency to verbosity, let's say that on Tuesday morn i applied online to take a non- matriculated course at ESC just to see how I do at online education.

I stopped at the local gas station-quikstop just outside our village to grab a sandwich to eat on my way to my appointment and a few of the town fathers, who gather there a couple times a day to solve the world's as well as the local problems of the day were still in residence and had corralled a young women who was on a solo bicycle trip from Syracuse to Quebec. She will be on her quest to obtain some photographs, she is a photographer, and will be on her trek 'til the end of august. I didn't have time to spend talking to her for more than 5 minute, but I walked away thinking If Kat can take a solo bike trip from Syracuse to and around Quebec Canada, then I surely can start taking college course toward a B.A. in writing and literature.

So that's my next step.

If you wan to visit Kat look here: http://ensoleille87.blogspot.com/

2011-06-01T05:20:00.000-04:00

Where to start?
It's been awhile,at least a week since I've blogged. Make no mistake though, I make a status report everyday on Facebook. Short and sweet is easier than blogging but even so I'm not interested in 140-ing via twitter.

What's new? After a month, at least a month, of cold. damp, rainy, and super windy weather.... Still haven't planted my garden.... no onions or spinach in and it's probably too late now, but I'm still going to plant the potatoes since they're here and ready to go in.... the day, yesterday, turned hot and humid and lasted through the night.

Suffice it to say that, to me, the weather or Mother Nature if you will, has got her panties in a wad and refuses to conform to the routine I've become accustomed to over the past 60+ years.

Believe me when I say I'm not complaining, no really. There has been much to be thankful for in my neck of the universe and I'm enjoying every minute of it. That doesn't mean I'm not taking notice of the changes.

After many months of bloggers flocking to my blog to catch a glimpse of my Wordless Wednesday photo of a pileated wood pecker, visits have tapered off from hundreds per day to the normal 30 to 40a day, at least this week.. Go figure.

With the combination of my Kindle, Audio CDs in the car and real papery, pagey books, my reading, or book count, has tripled. And that is a good thing.

There I've posted and now it's time to shower and eat before motoring down the highway 47miles.
Perhaps this post will initiate another rush on the microscope. Or not ;)

Time to get the flock outta here......
BTW, the Sunday Scribbling word prompt for this week: flock

2011-05-23T20:07:00.000-04:00

A Courtesan's Rebuke

No more I
To abide

Thou priggish,

"Better late

Than never"
Attitude!

Not the wine,
Nor the food.

Not the music,

Nor thy countenance

Can turn my head.

Perhaps another time.
But tonight
My favors
Belong to.......

Another.

Photo of painting (Banquet Scene with a Lute Player by Nicolas Tournier, 1625) provided for Magpie Tales #67 by Tess Kincaid.

"Better late than never" prompt for Sunday Scribblings #268 by Megg.

2011-05-16T20:04:00.001-04:00

The indoor forest;

Leaves surrender to my shelves.

Imagination.

2011-05-10T05:34:00.002-04:00

May

Springtime

Equinoxes and and solstices aside, here in our section of the world springtime is commonly accepted to be the three months, March, April, and May. I think of May as the crown jewel of springtime because we see the rebirth of nature coming to fruition in full force. The early precursors; crocus and early Star-of-Bethlehem have come and gone, giving way to the daffodils, jonquils, narcissus, and hyacinths. The lilacs are budding and the lily-of-the-valley are sprouting. The apple blossom buds are swelling and the grass is the greenest green it'll ever be.

In the woodshed the Robin family have taken up residence in the nest they built last year on the ladder. I wonder if they are the offspring that grew up there last year. A couple of the bird houses are being prepared for new nests by wrens and some other small birds I've yet to identify.

Watching over this resurgence of life, from the hibernation of winter, is the statue of St. Francis standing in the flower bed near the back door of our house. We, my wife and I, his handmaidens, were tiding up; pruning dead wood, trimming and mowing and such as that on this, most recent past, Mother's Day. Our brood had departed to return to their own nesting sites and the day, being sunny, was that perfect confluence of conditions most common in the merry month of May to which we let our hearts soar and revel in the sights, sound and aromas of springtime.

Set aside for the moment were thoughts of nature's other side: the devastating tornadoes that spread destruction across our mid-section last month, and the flooding both here and through the midwest which is also causing death and destruction. Until...............

rel, calls my wife from the upper flower bed, come 'ere and tell me what this is. I join her and follow the direction of her pointing finger to the largest bird's nest I've ever seen and inside were two nearly whole eggs the size of pullet eggs. Obviously a nest interrupted, probably knocked from the high pine tree by the windstorm of a week ago.

After some Google research we've deduced that this nest was that of a family of crows. And this family will have to wait a year to again pursue the rights (rites; thanks Lynn) of spring, since it's highly unusual for crows to hatch more than one brood a year.

Nature gives us much pleasure, especially in springtime, but she also takes away.

2011-05-05T05:04:00.001-04:00

John Keats published his first poem in the Examiner on this day in 1816.

O SOLITUDE! if I must with thee dwell,

Let it not be among the jumbled heap

Of murky buildings; climb with me the steep,—

Nature’s observatory—whence the dell,

Its flowery slopes, its river’s crystal swell, 5

May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep

’Mongst boughs pavillion’d, where the deer’s swift leap

Startles the wild bee from the fox-glove bell.

But though I’ll gladly trace these scenes with thee,

Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind, 10

Whose words are images of thoughts refin’d,

Is my soul’s pleasure; and it sure must be

Almost the highest bliss of human-kind,

When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee

2011-05-04T05:15:00.000-04:00

Some may say they live for the family, others to have fun, still others,to make money, but in reality nobody knows what he is living for, he has no goal, except the wish to escape insecurity and aloneness.

Erich Fromm

2011-05-04T04:47:00.000-04:00

Magpie # 64

Who's got time
to stand here
Like this?

For five dollar;
easy money,
Waste of time.

Got a garden to tend,
dough to knead,
Veggies to chop.

Washin' to scrub,
hang out to dry.
Ironin' piled high.

Waste my time.
ain't you got no work?
Have a glass of cool well water?

Photo: Smoldering Fires, Clarence Holbrook Carter, 1904-2000

Columbus Museum of Art

2011-05-03T04:45:00.000-04:00

Italian philosopher Niccolo Machiavelli, whose writings would influence modern political leaders, was born on this day in 1469. A native of Florence, Machiavelli served as that city's defense secretary. His high office allowed Machiavelli to rub shoulders with popes, kings, and emperors. When Machiavelli fell out of favor with the powerful Medici family, he was accused of conspiracy, imprisoned, and tortured. In an attempt to regain his power and win back the trust of the Medici family, Machiavelli wrote The Prince, his most famous work. In it, Machiavelli outlined his idea of a perfect leader, a person who was amoral, calculating, and a tyrant. The manuscript failed to win over the Medici family. It also alienated him from the people of Florence, Today the term "Machiavellian" is often used to describe a ruthless and autocratic leader.

2011-05-01T07:22:00.001-04:00

#265: CAKE

Alas, I, nor anyone I know for that matter, didn't get invited to the Royal wedding this weekend. Even if I had, I would have had to decline since I was on call at the hospital for the weekend. My mother, God rest her soul, had she been alive would have loved to have gone. Mostly to see the cake but the fact that she always said she was related, in the distant past, to Queen Victoria may have tingled her DNA and been added impetus for her to want to attend.

While both of my parents excelled in the arts, my mother tended towards the visual arts: an exemplary flower arranger and a cake decorator extraordinaire. There was a period of time in her middle years where she made, decorated and sold cakes for pin money. Well, no, I guess when you're poor it's called income not pin money. Her cakes were in high demand, especially her wedding cakes. As I look at this cake for William and Kate's wedding I see my mother's handy work all over. She was making cakes before the days of all the molds and ready made decorations. She had to carve cakes such as a sculptor would carve marble. And every flower, leaf, chain, bud and border had to be made by hand. Many nights I watched her make dozens of flowers just for practice. She always felt that her cakes should taste as good as they looked. Duncan Hines was her mix of choice because she liked the moistness and flavor better than Betty Crocker's. She also made all her frosting by hand from scratch.

I can't say she ever fed me chocolate cake for breakfast like Bill Cosby did for his kids, but there were certainly enough scraps left over after a cake was made for me to scarf up plenty of "nutrition" ( eggs, milk flour etc.) Nor did I wash the cake down with grapefruit juice.

In her day my mom could have taught Fiona Cairns some helpful tricks in the Cake decorating business.

* Royal wedding cake Photo Kate and Wills' eight-tiered wedding cake -- made of 17 stacked fruitcakes by Fiona Cairns and her team -- awaits the newlyweds in the Picture Gallery of Buckingham Palace on April 29, 2011. Credit John Stil

2011-04-30T04:55:00.001-04:00

Morning Pages

Disclaimer: I write this not to impugn "Morning Pages," but to entertain and to follow the premise of morning pages which is stream of consciousness writing.

I heard of the Concept of Morning Pages, conceived of by Julia Cameron, awhile back, say more than a year. No matter. "Morning Pages" is one of the tools in a book/course, "The Artist's Way", developed by Cameron to help unblock stymied writers and unleashed our creative juices/abilities.

Recently, (last week) I came across a reference to this technique in which the author, not Cameron, stated that to be of maximal benefit one should do their "Morning Pages" immediately upon awaking, before any of the day's activities. BTW, "Morning Pages" consists of three (3) handwritten pages of free form stream of consciousness writing. Think about that for a minute.

Yesterday morning I started. The following is the 1/2 page I was able to complete:

The premise, no, dictum, of "morning Pages" is to hand write 3 pages of stream of consciousness writing first thing upon awakening. Come on folks, let's get real here. First of all the stimulus that wakes me in the morning is my bladder. It's essential that the first thing I do in the morning is get out of bed, followed immediately by padding to the toilet; thank God we put in that upstairs toilet! Then to sit upon said throne and empty my bladder. I used to stand to accomplish that task, but these days my bladder empties so slowly that my legs start trembling if I stand still for that long.

The next chore is to feed the cat. Who, by the way, was in the bed with me and the first thing I am conscious of when awakening is the cat's nose, less than an inch from mine, as he awaits the opening my eyes. He barely tolerates my toilet ablutions, weaving in and out between my legs, all the while meowing reminders that I haven't fed him yet.

Therefore, if I were to write my 3 pages immediately upon awakening, I would be sitting in a sopping wet bed with a soon to be irate and yowling feline; at the least. Doesn't seem to be the most conducive milieu for creative writing, now does it?

2011-04-26T05:11:00.000-04:00

Magpie # 63

KALEIDASCOPE

I had one,or access, perhaps, to another's as a child. Have seen a few through the years, on coffee tables, as an adult. There may even be a miniature one hidden away in the flotsam of household collections.

A fascinating trinket with the attraction of the stars in the galaxy, to attract and hold our attention for short periods of time and mesmerize us; to tranquil thoughts much longer.

2011-04-26T04:40:00.000-04:00

David Hume, whose writings would help shape the .S. Constitution, was born in Edinburgh, Scotland, on this day in 1711. Hume, who died in August 1776 just as the American Revolution was beginning, wrote an essay titled "Idea of a Perfect Commonwealth." James Madison, considered the "Father of the Constitution," studied Hume's writings and wanted to avoid a system of government where the majority would ignore the opposition. Hume believed the only way to control such special interests was to create small republics where the common interests of all would be protected. Madison rejected Hume's logic and advocated the formation of a large republic where no one special interest could motivate the majority to subjugate the minority.

This Day / In History calender

2011-04-23T19:45:00.001-04:00

Verbosity

Have you ever come to the page with nothing to say, but said it anyway?

Of course lately my visits to the page have been as scarce as hens teeth. The reason is not that I have nothing to say, shucks I have plenty to say. I've got tons and tons of answers to most of the worlds problems. Just ask me I can go on for pages expounding on my views.

Actually, of late, I feel like I'm in a museless state; not thinking anything I might say is really worth saying, or more than likely, I've already written about it some where in this blog over the past 5 years or so, and am loath to repeat myself: why should art imitate truth.

I have no pearls of wisdom or whispers of gossip to impart to my adoring fans. When you refrain from posting regularly and simultaneously stop visiting and commenting on other blogs the cadre of adoring fans dwindles to a few hangers ons, family and lurkers.

A few days ago I mentioned that there was an increase in the visits to my blog from folks interested in a picture of a pileated woodpecker I had posted for a wordless Wednesday. Well, that interest has not dissipated. When I was an active participating blogger my site meter hits averaged out to around 40 hits a day. For close to a month now my average daily hits have been in the high seventies. That's a doubling of hits at a time when my participation in the blog world has been at it's lowest level. I searched the blog sphere for some clue to the avid interest in pileated woodpeckers and can find none. I continue to get the seasonal hits form Korea looking for Thomas Hardy writings and a regular searching for Erma Bombeck's "I loved you most" essay. Both of which I wrote about in the past. But if this wood pecker search persists it will out pace any previous posting under the microscope.

I'm not always verbose: I can be concise an when I have something to say. No unnecessary adjectives, just the facts mam just the facts. When I have nothing to say I can say it on and on.

2011-04-12T19:48:00.000-04:00

??????????

What is the difference between a Social Butterfly and a Thunder-Moth?

And why are so many, from all corners, searching : Piliated woodpecker?

2011-04-06T05:05:00.003-04:00

Yesterday must have been piliated woodpecker day!
I had dozens of hits on my sitemeter for this Wordless Wednesday post:
http://pciyrtpy.blogspot.com/2010/09/wordless-wednesday.html

2011-03-31T05:18:00.002-04:00

When life seems all mundane, arise early enough to watch the dawn!

2011-03-20T11:46:00.003-04:00

Jo-jo just left with her parents for the 5 hour return trip to the Falls. Their visit was unplanned and bittersweet. Just so you know, Jo-jo isn't her name, nor is it Champ, Buddy, or Hey-girl. I call her by those names and Sofie every-now-and-then. On rare occasions I actually use her complete name; Sophia. She doesn't seem to mind what name I call her by and responds to me no matter what I call her.

It's a lot of work to make a whirlwind visit and more so if you're totin' a 17 month old and all her paraphernalia. They come to the north country frequently in the summer to enjoy the river but not so in the cooler months. So it was a pleasure to entertain this Pearl of great value, our grand daughter, this weekend while her parents attended the funeral of our son's friend. I'm not sure but I think this is the first high school friend, of young adult age, that has died from among this cadre of friends. While it's always sad when a friend dies, I think it's more so when that friend dies unexpectedly and in the prime of his life. It turned out to be an unscheduled class reunion of sorts.

I don't know the circumstances surrounding Tommy's death, but I know he was a fine young man and a great dad, a good friend and he was young and he's dead. The rest is minutiae. Kristy, Sophia's mom, said there was not a dry eye at the funeral; male or female. His friends came from all over the state to say goodbye to a person who was apart of their formative years. Someone who is a part of their growing up memories and it's startling to say goodbye to one of your memories too soon. They gathered at "Turner's Inn" and reminisced, reinforced remaining friendships and made another memory. That's what we do; that's as it should be.

Grandma and grandpa got to spend a great deal of quality time forging memories of their own with their newest grand-daughter and imprinting some-such on her early development also.

The joy of watching a 17 month old explore and experience the world without the boxes of culture and society around her was enlightening. I'm sure I was the same open minded, wondering, exploring experimenting child eons ago too, but I've forgotten how to be so uninhibited in evaluating my world. She has no reservations about tackling tasks and if we keep quiet and don't interject any you can'ts, you're too little, too young, then she she goes right ahead and does what we didn't think she could do. We went for a walk and she noticed and brought to my attention: the new buds on the tree branches, the rustling of a dried up old leaf scurrying along the walk noisily attracting our attention. Then the birds awing caught her eye and the ringing of the church bells and the bright red octagonal STOP sign. She saw and brought to my attention all the things that normally pass by un-noticed by me as I entertain thoughts of more important things like what the temperature is and how long before I have to go back to work.

My Champ showed me this weekend what's important in this life: take notice of and relish the small things around you. Revel in the life you meet, for too soon it'll be gone.

It was a pleasure knowing you Tommy Johnston.
You left a memorable imprint on many lives; no man can do better than that.

Born: December 9, 1976
Death: March 15, 2011
Occupation: Fiber Optic Lineman

2011-03-08T20:33:00.001-05:00

2 birds, one stone:
The image prompt from magpie tales #56 this week is a head of garlic separated into cloves.

The word prompt from Sunday Scribblings this week is: Raw.

What delicious happenstance; Sunday Scribbling's prompt, raw, drew a blank in my mind and therefore I set it aside to marinate and waited to see what would come to mind in the following few days. ( I rarely am inspired by a prompt immediately in any case.) On Monday our new Magpie image grabbed the marinated raw prompt and married it in my mind and out came, Kimchi.

I was introduced to Kimchi in 1974 while stationed In Pusan South Korea for the U.S. Army. It quickly became a favorite for both flavor and, to be honest, self defense. Large amounts of raw garlic are integral to the making of kimchi and as most know, ingested garlic, cooked or raw, gives off an odoriferous message to any one in close proximity to the ingestor. If you yourself eat some kimchi the aroma of your neighbor becomes inconsequential. Mind you, kimchi is eaten by everyone in Korea.

Over the years I've attempted to make this vitamin rich relish myself and have also bought the super-market's canned version. Nothing comes even close to the kimchi I ate in Korea, with 2 exceptions: there is a Korean restaurant an hour west of us near Fort Drum that has perfect (perfect being comparable to that which I had in Korea) kimchi. And a year ago this past Oct. My wife and I vacationed in the Big Apple and went to dinner one night in Koreatown and of course had kimchi, ( I think it's served at every meal in Korea) which transported me back 35 years to the culinary delights I experienced in Pusan.

Ingredients:

1 fresh Chinese cabbage, dark green outer leaves removed

1 1/2 cup cooking salt
1L water
1 cup Korean chilli powder – aka gochugaru (not flakes, look for it at your local Korean grocery store)
1/2 cup fish sauce

2 tbsp white sugar

6 spring onions, washed and sliced on an angle into slices about 1-2″ long
5 cloves of garlic, crushed
1 knob of ginger, grated
1/4 nashi pear, cored and peeled
1/4 brown onion, peeled
200g white/chinese radish (long and white as opposed to small, round and pink-tinged)

2011-03-08T05:16:00.000-05:00

In case you forgot: today is Mardi Gras.

or Fat Tuesday

and the 100th international women's day

2011-03-06T10:44:00.001-05:00

Vagaries of weather

Early this morning when I went down to the laundry room to feed the cat, I glanced out the back door's window to see what I thought was a cat sauntering up our walk-way. Secondarily I noticed also that we were experiencing a blizzard; more on that in a moment.

The critter approaching the back porch was walking in a serpentine line rather than a direct approach. My first thought was; gee this cat has a face like an owl, Barn owl to be exact. As the varmint drew closer I got a clearer vision and realized that it was , in fact, a opossum. Wow, how cool is that? We've suspected for a number of years now that a possum or family of such were residing in the woodshed attached to the rear of our garage, but I'd never seen them. Well, now I can say I've seen a opossum up close and personal. I thought perhaps he/she: who can tell?, was going to reconnoiter the recyclable bin just outside the back door. We throw our cans and bottles in there including the empty cat food tins, but they are all washed and rinsed before hand. Nope, he/she never even stopped for a sniff, but rather, just sidled along by the grill and exited the porch in the direction of the afore mentioned woodshed. Whether or not that was his final destination, I can't say because I didn't follow him being dressed in PJ's and slippers as I was and the weather being all wintery and such.

Weather. Yes, yesterday I returned from the frat house between 0730 and 0830 to the home abode. It was raining heavily and the temperature fluctuated between 33 F. at the Massena end to 36 F. on the Morristown end. The roads were not icy though and as the day progressed the temps rose to the high forties. Just the kind of day that serves as a precursor to spring and gives those sick and tired of winter hope that spring is truly on it's way. Snow banks receded rapidly and were mere skeletons of their former selves when we returned from dining at the Lodge last night. So imagine the chagrin the morning was greeted with as spring seekers looked on winter renewing itself with forceful determination and with the weatherman predicting an accumulation of anywhere from 6" to a foot of the white stuff. I guess I'd better put fuel in the snow blower.

Perhaps we can say: winter was just playing possum with us.

2011-03-01T05:04:00.002-05:00

Yesterday I awoke a little before my appointed time of 0330, but hey, when you're awake might as well make use of the time.

It's been a month since I contracted a head cold that subsequently progressed to bronchitis, and while it is still plaguing me, yesterday, for awhile at least, it was in remission enough so that I decided to try doing my exercise routine, which I had not felt up to for the month. I'm pleased to say that all went well and my spirits were elevated when I was able to complete my workout.

Around 0530 I took a peek through the curtains of the front window and lo and behold the windshield, well actually my entire car, was encased in a 1/4 inch of freezing rain. Holy smokes, I'm on call! If I get called it'll take me a half hour to clean off the windshiel!! (Not good) So out I go in my PJs and start the car and turn on the defroster and cross my fingers. At 0630, when I left for work (no I never did get called) the car was clean as could be. It was still raining but not freezing on my car. Unfortunately I can't say the same for the roads. The worst was the parking lot at the hospital though: a refresher course was held in the lack of control one has over their car when on glare ice. Fortunately no mishaps occurred,. I got the car parked safely in the snow bank and carefully exited and crept slowly across the lot to the safety of the building.

A fitting way to end February. Now on to spring!

2011-02-28T05:10:00.000-05:00

Which months of the year have 28 days?

All of them! Trite I know; hey ya get what you pay for.

The end of February and the end of my call weekend. I did a smattering of cases, something every day but no night work: YAY!! Night work is the bane of health care. After 39 years in this profession, it's the night work that sucks the life out of you. So again I say: YAY!

I've been recalcitrant in blogging this month and I really don't have an excuse other than pure laziness. I could blame my cold and bronchitis but I'd be confabulating so leave it as, "what is, is.

My brother came to visit on Saturday afternoon and we had a great chat for a couple of hours. I won't relate all that we discussed, actually I will leave out most of it.

He had come into town to pick up the two photographs he'd entered into a local juried art show, and gifted me, generously, of one; to adorn the walls of the frat house.
We both like to photograph cemeteries for some reason.

One of the topics we discussed was how we both felt we could adopt the life of a hermit. We both appreciate our alone time and are unfazed by long periods of solitude. But after he left I did some google searching of the definition and meaning of hermit and found that even though I enjoy periods of alone time I would not appreciate that life style over the long run. I enjoy interacting with other humans too much. My job gives me ample opportunity to commune with other humans and even commiserate from time to time and, in fact, these interactions recharge my batteries. That said, large social gatherings tend to make me uncomfortable and I try to avoid them when ever I can without offending anyone. Does that make sense?

The month of February is one in particular that gives me plenty to reflect upon:

My daughter, and first born child was born in February, My father was born and died, too young, in this month, one of my favorite surgeons, Dr. Bhat, died unexpectedly in February. This year my wife spent two weeks in Florida visiting her mom and other relatives, giving me plenty of solitude. Valentine's day is a time to give one's thoughts over to love and companionship and relationships in general. Presidents day gives me the cue to reflect on our country and our gov't and the direction were moving in and how it compares to the vision of the founders, and this year in particular it sent me researching the reasons for the decline and fall of the Roman Empire. More on that when I've had time to digest and form an appropriate essay.

And while I enjoy meeting new people and planning and preparing for new adventures there is always comfort to be found in the safety of routine; coffee, exercise, shower, breakfast, work: Its a good life all in all.

2011-02-18T05:00:00.002-05:00

1885: Twain publishes The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

Mark Twain, one of America's most beloved and prolific authors, published The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn on this day in 1885. Huckleberry Finn was Tom Sawyer's best friend and the hero in Twain's Adventures of Tom Sawyer (1876). The adventures of Huckleberry Finn was a much more serious work, focusing on the horrors of slavery and life in the antebellum South. The story centers on Huck, who travels with his friend Jim, a runaway slave, down the Mississippi on a raft.

Jim has escaped from his owner, who is about to sell him. The sale would separate

Jim from his wife and family. Huck, who colorfully narrates the story, tries to help Jim escape Ohio. The book caused a stir when it was published.

The Concord, Massachusetts, library banned the book, calling it "tawdry." Other libraries soon followed. In the 1950s, African American groups lambasted the book for being racist.

2011-02-15T21:11:00.001-05:00

Home was the sailor
Six months on the sea.
Swaggered to the barstool
Beside the lady,

"Buy you a drink Ma'am?"
Said the old salt.
"What'll it be-
A salty dog
A sweet daiquiri?"

"Feelin a bit libidinous tar?"
"Aye, aye lady
That I are."

So they departed the smokey saloon,
Walking out,through mist and fog
While he sang her a tune;
"Honey let me be your salty dog."

2011-02-14T07:06:00.000-05:00

Happy Valentine's Day

Give a little love today..........

2011-02-11T04:24:00.001-05:00

On this date in 1805: Sacagawea gives birth to Pompey.

Sacagawea, the shoshone guide who helped Meriwether Lewis and Richard Clark navigate the vast Louisiana Territory, gave birth to a son, Jean Baptiste Charbonneau, on this day in 1805. The two explorers would call the infant by the name of Pompey.

Lewis and Clark first met Sacagawea while spending the winter with the Mandan Indians along the Upper Missouri River, near present-day Bismark, North Dakota. Sacagawea's husband was French-Canadian fur trader Toussaint Charbonneau. Sacagawea was only ten years old when the Hidatsa tribe kidnapped her. Charbonneau bought the girl and made her his wife. After meeting Sacagawea, Lewis and Clark wanted the young girl to come along on their journey and help with any Native Americans they might meet. "A woman with a party of men is a token of peace," Clark wrote.

Sacagawea and her son made the difficult journey to the Pacific Ocean and back.

2011-02-10T15:02:00.000-05:00

Magpie # 52

This is Magpie tales 1st birthday! Time sure flies don't it; gaaal-leeee.

"Do houses have genes grandpa?"

"They sure do sugar.
Some houses has good genes,
Like Monticello- they
Give shelter to successful
People;
Like Mr. Jefferson.

Some, n'er 'mount ta
Nuttin';
Like that un o'er yonder:
Anyone e'er lived
There,
Was a failure."

"Isn't that the house you
Grow'd up in grandpa?"

"Sur-nuf is,
Sugar."

Photo prompt offered by Tess Kincaid @ Willow Manor for Magpie Tales.

2011-02-05T16:24:00.002-05:00

I’ve got to tell you this story, even though, technically, its gossip. My wife imparted this tale to me and on a broad scale I tend to believe it, without talking to the involved parties personally. It seems that this fellow we know has recently been put on a budget by his wife. She thinks he spends entirely too much money in the cafeteria at his place of employment. I suspect she is referring to his breakfast purchases as well as his lunches and various snacks throughout the day. I have no idea how much he spends there nor do I care, but I think it’s important to the story to let you know that this fellow earns a yearly salary, in the low six figures, in the healthcare industry. He is quite frugal, some would use the term cheap. I can verify from personal observation that this fellow does not part with a dollar easily. He’s reluctant to buy a raffle ticket from a co-worker or to contribute to any other of the various fund raising activities that arise from time to time in the average work place. I’ve heard him beg off siting the fact that his “allowance” from his wife doesn’t have any extra for those things.

He does, however like to eat. I would say that he is fifty pounds overweight and I’m being conservative here. His love of eating is equaled by his dislike of exercise. He would rather take a pill or pills for high blood pressure and high cholesterol rather than control both of these health threats through regular exercise. The irony will be apparent shortly.

Rather than curb his calorie intake to satisfy his wife’s demand for a cut back in cafeteria expenses, he now packs a cooler every day with his meals and snacks for the day. Fair enough, you might say, and I’d agree with you.

There is a parking lot directly in front of this man’s place of employment, which is designated for the use of customers only. The employees are required to park in the lot 2 to 2 ½ blocks from the main entrance.

Because he feels his cooler is too heavy to carry the two blocks, he is requesting special dispensation from the parking police so that he can park in the customer’s parking lot. Are you freaking kidding me?

Is there some irony here or not?

2011-02-04T04:49:00.000-05:00

It's that time of ear again

PHOOEY

2011-02-03T05:54:00.000-05:00

Happy birthday Michelle

2011-02-02T05:25:00.000-05:00

The blizzard from Iowa arrived this morning, wind and snow. I went for a walk at 0345 and it was work. now it's shower, bkfst and leave 1/2 hour early for work. I figure the traffic should be minimal...

we'll see.

2011-01-31T05:30:00.000-05:00

Just another routine day: the cat and I got up at 0325. He seemed to be a little slower than usual going down the stairs this morning. Look who's talking. I dished up his 1/2 can, small can, of cat food, reheated my coffee in the microwave, creamed and sugared it and went to do a quick status report on FB. It's now 0400, so it's out to the gym for strength training then back to the house to put on some warmer duds for a 2 mile walk at -3.8 degrees F. Bracing! That's all I've got to say about that; bracing. Twenty minutes now since I returned to the heat of the house and my thighs are still thawing with that tingly feeling you get.
All in all, nothing special. I am on call tonight.

Photo by Larry E. Walton: http://www.panoramio.com/photo/18776308

2011-01-28T05:08:00.000-05:00

1956: Elvis makes his first TV appearance
A young singer named Elvis Presley made his first television appearance on this day in 1956. Presley, who would later be dubbed the King of Rock 'n' Roll, sang "Heartbreak Hotel" on the TV musical-variety program, Stage Show. The song became an instant hit. Elvis would appear on Ed Sullivan's Toast of the Town later that year, catapulting Elvis to a hip-shaking cultural phenomenon.

2011-01-26T20:17:00.000-05:00

Wordless Wednesday

2011-01-25T05:09:00.001-05:00

CRNA Week 2011

Hi, My name is rel, I'm a nurse anesthetist and I'm going to take care of your anesthesia needs today during your surgery.

I've been doing this job of administering anesthesia since 1972, and there has never been a day I didn't look forward to coming to work and doing my job.

In 1999 my professional organization, AANA, put forth the idea of celebrating Nurse anesthetists and picked the last full week of January each year since to bring to public awareness the role we play in the overall scheme of things in operating rooms all over America. 2011 marks the 12th National Nurse Anesthetists Week.

Although we utilize our knowledge and technical skills in every area of medical practice; outpatient clinics, Dr.'s offices, oscopy suites, as well as ICUs, ERs, and regular hospital wards, it's in operating rooms that you are most likely to encounter us.

Even though, in many, if not all rural areas, we, the nurse anesthetist ply our trade independently, that is to say, without supervision by a physician trained in anesthesiology, but as with all areas of medicine and surgery today the patients care is a collaborative effort between different health care professionals. This collaborative effort allows us to evaluate the scenario you present to us and to then devise the plan of anesthesia to give you the best chance for a safe and satisfactory surgery.

Nurse anesthetists have been administering anesthetics for 150 years. That's a lot of practice, and numerous studies show that we do it with an excellence. Our record of safety is unmatched.

So if you are greeted by a person who says, hi, I'm a nurse anesthetist and I'm going to care for you today, consider yourself fortunate with the knowledge that you will get the best care you can get.

2011-01-24T20:38:00.001-05:00

Sub-Zero days

It was cold here this morning; bone shatteringly cold. The indoor/outdoor thermometer read minus 13 below zero, but my Droid phone read minus 24 degrees below zero for our village. I'm inclined to believe my Droid since the area around us for a 50 mile radius had minus 25 to minus 30 readings.

We've suspected in the past that the south east presentation of our house, situated midway down the steep slope to the bay, was a micro climate; we get frost last compared to all other places in the village and the temp in winter is usually warmer than other homes nearby. Not that minus 13 is warm, but 10 degrees above the neighbors.

Anyway, for all that, we had one night of subzero temps. Schools were closed so the walkers wouldn't be exposed to these temps, and the buses with diesel engines were not running normally. Tonight into tomorrow is forcast to be increasingly milder with he addition of a few inches of snow.

Why, in an area tauted for it's winter hardships and the hardiness of it's residents, does a frigid airmass such as this one, lasting one day, make headlines all the way up to the national news? Well, because mild winters have become the norm over the past 30+ years in this part of the country. If you are of a certain age and remember the winters of the 20s and 30s, and the mid 60s through the mid 70s, you will remember winters where for 2 weeks straight in January the thermometer never got above 0 during the day and routinely dropped to 20 and 30 below at night. The river froze solidfor its entire 1 mile width and folks routinely walked and even drove cars across the river between Morristown, NY and Brockville, Ontario, Canada. In the 20s and 30s there was a daily mail run between these two communities, and a road marked out for walkers.

I remember when in 1975 we moved to the village and the subzero temps were so frigid and lasted so long that the water main on Morris street froze up and the year before I ran for mayor half of Main Street's water main froze. Septic systems failed due to leach fields freezing. I was raising chickens and rabbits in an unheated garage without running water and it was imperative for me to change the water containers, for the animals, because they froze so quickly. It was routine to change the waterers 3 to 4 times a day or more.

The schools didn't close, the buses ran and winter festivals with broom ball on the bay were anticipated recreation activities every February as well as fishing derbies. Pick-up ice hockey games, on the bay, were as common as pick-up baseball games in the park in the summer. There were sleigh rides on real snow with real horse drawn sleighs and hot chocolate in old one room school houses heated with a pot bellied wood stove. Yes that was in the 1970s. We weren't cowed by the weather but rather found ways to make it our own and enjoy it. There was a, some would say perverse, pride in facing the hardships of winter and prevailing over them if not outright embracing them.

Who among us, who survived Ice Storm '98, think one day of suzero weather is a major news story.

But for the last 35 years, winters, overall, here have become milder and milder and we've become soft and so when we get one day of subzero temps it takes on the news worthiness of a weather catastrophe.

Get over it!

2011-01-23T11:26:00.000-05:00

Magpie # 49

photo provided by Tess Kincaide

There were three girls from Menlo
Who went skating at thirty below,
With multiple layers and long wooly hose.
Perfectly coiffed, faces touched with a rose;
Impishly waiting for Larry, Curly, and Moe.

2011-01-20T05:55:00.002-05:00

Colonoscopy

Last night's supper and this morning's breakfast.

Tastes like Lemoncello with salt, too much salt, added to it. And the after effects are much different.

For the second time in, oh, let's say 7 or 8 years, I'm going to have a colonoscopy procedure. I'm not keen on this, but I don't have any major trepidation concerning this event either. It's just that I don't enjoy invasive medical procedures. The only reason I'm subjecting myself to this for a second time, (the first was normal) is because of a family history of GI cancers. Granted these occurred mostly a generation removed, however, my uncle (father's brother) did die from colon cancer. So a distasteful prep and a embarrassing procedure are really a small price to pay for early detection and peace of mind. My paternal grandfather and a 12 year old uncle succumbed to stomach cancer.

I'll get to sample some of my own wares. Propofol (yup, the Micheal Jackson drug) is my stock and trade. I remember waking up after my first experience with it and it was actually quite pleasant; a miniature euphoria, if you will.

The common advice from the medical community is to have your first colonoscopy screen at age fifty and perhaps sooner if there is a strong family history. I didn't have my first until I was 56 or 57, I've forgotten exactly, but a little story will give a glimpse into the ir-rational thinking that is fairly common. Well at least for me.

One of my co-workers at my last place of employment is the same age as me and at age fifty, at his physicians prodding, he had his first colonoscopy. I'm just 2 months older than this fellow so a few days after his procedure he asked me when I was going to have mine. I said: "we're the same age, grew up in the same town, went to the same high school together, ate similar diets, dated the same girls (although not at the same time), and work in the same profession at the same hospital, it seems to me that since yours was normal it stands to reason mine would be too, so why have it done ?"

He repeated at 55 and it being normal I proffered the same argument. But as my 58th birthday approached I decided a less cavalier thought process should take over and went ahead and had the procedure performed and when it showed a normal result. I, of course, said to my friend; see I told you so.

Why was closing in on 58 so important in my decision? My dad was 58 when he died of a heart attack, his brother was 58 when he died of bowel cancer, his dad was 58 when he died of stomach cancer. Enough said.

2011-01-19T05:06:00.000-05:00

The neighbors dog started barking at 0030.

He's still barking now at 0500!

Incessant.......

Rude!

2011-01-18T15:35:00.002-05:00

Having been on call last night, I left work as early as was practical relative to the need. Noon or there-abouts I exited the hospital to a greeting of freezing drizzle. Resigning myself to a longer than usual trek home, off I set. Once out on the highway, the windshield began freezing over as the defrost was not up to speed yet. The road was bare but beginning to slush up. Soon enough, and with the assistance of the windshield washer fluid, I was trucking along at between 50 and 55 mph.

"Not as bad as I thought," thought I.

In short order the line of traffic was getting slower and slower and soon I caught sight, up ahead, of one of those wide load rigs transporting those towering windmill bases. There were no cowboys in this long snaking line and the road was becoming more and more slush covered so we were all constrained to our relative positions in the trail of vehicles. Thirty was the top speed attained ever and as such left more opportunity to peruse the road side.

A red fox trotted across the highway . Broad daylight and there it was as nonchalant as could be traveling through and by the populated roadside and homes there-on , probably on it's way to the near-by river for food and drink.

This act set me to thinking along that train of thought so common to us as we get older; "the times they are a changin'" When I was growing up here in the rural back country of northern NY along the Canadian border I spent a majority of my waking hours out of doors. And while much of those hours were spent in the urbanity of our small city, population 13,000, there were plenty of occasions to wander off into the nearby wilderness areas, stone quarries and farms. My growing up years were not devoid of wild life observations. On more than one occasion I'd come across a porcupine, a skunk or two, and garter snakes. That was about it unless you count fish.

Now the area has not become less rural, more so perhaps, but in the last 20 years, my exposure to a more varied assortment of wildlife has multiplied: deer in my yard within the village, opossum, fox, skunk, raccoon, bats, birds of every variety; hawks, eagles and turkey vultures as well as spotted adders and assorted rabbits and grouse, even, most recently a black bear. All in our village yards. It seems, thus, that wildlife is greatly more prevalent in populated areas now than in the past century when I was a lad.

2011-01-17T05:37:00.001-05:00

The weekend was perfect.
We left the 'burg in the 9 seat twin prop sardine can nearing sunset. The ride was smooth as silk.

50 minutes after take off, we sighted Vangogh's Albany municipal airport and landed as lightly as a mosquito on an arm.

Michelle and Josh were waiting for us and after picking up Di's bag we motored a short ride to the Koto Japanese restaurant for a dinner prepared expertly at the Hitachi bar. We were an hour early for our reservation,but they had openings for us then so we were seated right away with 5 other folks.

the entertaining chef served us as quick as a flitting butterfly and everything was delicious, especially the fried rice: sublime.

Diane and 'chelle had pomatinis and said they were devine.

The next morning dawned bright and frigid. While Josh warmed up the chariot for our trip to Home Depot, I shot some pics of the new house. The place is nicely laid out; warm and inviting and the house is situated in a postcard looking neighborhood. We spent a portion of the day hanging wall decorations; mostly pictures, paintings etc.

Our niece, Jessica, who lives nearby came to join us for dinner and after I introduced her to Lemoncello, she decide to spend the night in the other guest bedroom.

Breakfast the next morning was sorely needed by all to off set the logy feeling produced by a combination of wine, sambucca, and lemoncello.

The flight home was a little bumpier but for the hour it took, not bad. We had to double up passengers from the Massena flight since they were short a plane so the flight was full. So full, that Di rode in the co-pilot's seat.

2011-01-14T14:51:00.000-05:00

Our daughter and son-in-law live a four hour drive from us. Although, recently, my wife has discovered that she can fly round trip inexpensively and the trip is less than an hour one way.
The newly weds have purchased and closed on their first home and want to show it off to us, well to me, my wife saw it when they were first looking at it. And they'd like some help moving in.

It was decided that we'd fly rather than drive, it being winter and all. Now, I don't enjoy airplanes on the best of occasions but I'm less impressed by these "puddle jumpers." I've been over-ruled; what's new? In 2 hours, give or take, I'll be taking the 50 minute kite flight to Albany; wish me luck ;)

We arrive at five and then straight to the Japanese Steakhouse for a Saki resuscitation. Fortification for tomorrow's moving enterprise.