Black Hawk helicopters, just over our pasture.
There are a number of reasons I do not like those things.
However, I think they supply a national security need, and so I will acquiesce.
But I do not like them.
(Internet file photo)
.jpg)
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Black Hawks Up
Tonight, just as we began dinner, we heard the too-too-too-too-too-to-too-too-...
Black Hawk helicopters, just over our pasture.
There are a number of reasons I do not like those things.
However, I think they supply a national security need, and so I will acquiesce.
But I do not like them.
(Internet file photo)
.jpg)
Black Hawk helicopters, just over our pasture.
There are a number of reasons I do not like those things.
However, I think they supply a national security need, and so I will acquiesce.
But I do not like them.
(Internet file photo)
Gray
Gray, grey, gray, grey. Thank goodness there was snow this week and last. I don't like mud days, particularly, and that's where we are right now: gray mud days.
Fun news is that daughter Gillian has accepted a museum job on Cape Cod. This means that she will pull up stakes (she is very, very, very good at this) and head east. How did this transpire? She finished her Masters degree in Museum Studies last May, and promptly headed to China for the summer. Upon her return she began looking for jobs. Museum jobs. The job outlook was bleak. Her fellow Grad grads began taking jobs at county historical societies, at sightseeing areas, at Wal Mart, and so on. Gillian DID get two part time museum jobs in Kansas City, at which she has worked for six months. Neither was at all calling her name, but she bided her time, allthewhile sending out one hundred museum job applications.
In January she came home and announced to her father and me that she was planning to move to the East Coast. There, even without a job at the onset, she would be nearer many more museums than here in the Midwest. Girl had a strong point. We agreed with her. The next week, she applied (one of the 100, I suppose) to a museum on Cape Cod. They called her the next day: would she take an interview? And so she did, and they hired her right then and there.
A moral to this story? Sometimes it takes 100+ applications to get anywhere, I guess. Keep on keeping on, I guess. Hunker down and pray, I guess.
Here's to daughter Gillian!
Fun news is that daughter Gillian has accepted a museum job on Cape Cod. This means that she will pull up stakes (she is very, very, very good at this) and head east. How did this transpire? She finished her Masters degree in Museum Studies last May, and promptly headed to China for the summer. Upon her return she began looking for jobs. Museum jobs. The job outlook was bleak. Her fellow Grad grads began taking jobs at county historical societies, at sightseeing areas, at Wal Mart, and so on. Gillian DID get two part time museum jobs in Kansas City, at which she has worked for six months. Neither was at all calling her name, but she bided her time, allthewhile sending out one hundred museum job applications.
In January she came home and announced to her father and me that she was planning to move to the East Coast. There, even without a job at the onset, she would be nearer many more museums than here in the Midwest. Girl had a strong point. We agreed with her. The next week, she applied (one of the 100, I suppose) to a museum on Cape Cod. They called her the next day: would she take an interview? And so she did, and they hired her right then and there.
A moral to this story? Sometimes it takes 100+ applications to get anywhere, I guess. Keep on keeping on, I guess. Hunker down and pray, I guess.
Here's to daughter Gillian!
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Saturday Eve
Well, we've had our fair share of snow this week - much
needed in this, our third year of drought conditions. Last weekend I drove five hours south to
Oklahoma to visit my parents. The farm
and ranch ponds between here and there are frightfully low or completely
dry. I don't know how much our 7"
of snow will make in a thirsty herd's watering hole, but hopefully we will have
more of the same in the coming weeks.
Tomorrow is the Academy Awards. Are? I
think that is grammatically correct: tomorrow are the Academy Awards. Some channel on TV is showing old movies
which were Oscar winners. Late this
afternoon that Spouse o' Mine and I watched Guess Who's Coming to Dinner? with Sydney
Poitier, Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn.
What a TERRIFIC movie. Filmed in
1967, Civil Rights era, it examines bi-racial marriage. And interestingly, Spencer Tracy died 18 days
after filming this movie. What the two
of us remarked several times during this movie was what very great actors there
were in this movie! And no special
effects (e.g., no Mission-Impossible-Blow-'Em-Ups and so on...) Very simple sets, and the whole story revolved
around conversations between people.
(Are we correct in thinking that this was a play before becoming a
movie?) I have to say: Two hours well-spent!
After the movie, in the dark, yet in the full-moonlight, we
two strapped on our XC skis and headed out for some moonlight skiing. Pitch dark but for the near-full moon, we
could see our shadows and the snow even glittered in the dark, by the light of
the silvery moon!
It's been a terrific Saturday evening.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Thursday, February 14, 2013
On the Ranch
Absolute newborn:
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Stay-at-Homes, and other...
That Spouse o' Mine is out of town tonight, and so I am on my own as to what to do with myself this evening. There's Indian cuisine on the menu, and some cello practicing to be done. And then...I don't know: quilting, painting, reading...oh, there are too many options to behold!
Beethoven is playing in my head...I am quite sure everyone in my family has music running in their head at all times, and I don't know why that is, but we do. And tonight, in mine, it's Beethoven. It's like an iPod which God instilled in us at birth. It's a good blessing, to be sure. It's really odd, though, sometimes, when a tune is right there in my head and I cannot discern it, and cannot shake it. But it's right there in my head, to be sure. One day last week, it was Wagner. And Wagner is difficult music to be roaming about in one's head.
I had lunch with a fun friend this afternoon. We talked about a Bible study she is going to. (I started one such study, eager and enthusiastic, but the study entailed a whale of a video each week, and at 50+ years, I acknowledge that some 40 years ago, I could well have been diagnosed Attention Deficit, the video portion of the Bible study was difficult for me to sit through...and I digress...)
What came up from this conversation was a memory of 21 years ago. I was a mother of two young daughters, and was home on maternity leave from TransWorld Airlines with my newborn baby boy. He was six months old when I was to return to work, and I opted to "retire". I was happy to stay home with my kids. The hard part? The most irritating, disgraceful part of this decision? When I would go to a function with my post-doc husband, and someone would ask me, "What do you do?" and I would innocently reply, "I am a Stay-at-Home Mom."
The inquisitor would then very abruptly turn and move on to another person at the gathering. I did not exist. I did not have a brain or a conversation to exchange. So they thought...
This still rankles me, now in my 50s, because I know full-well that "Stay-at-Home" Moms have
A) common sense
B) College degrees
C) or not! Maybe just great women who are valuable people!!!
And now, I am off to enjoy my Indian cuisine.
Sans that Spouse o' Mine.
Beethoven is playing in my head...I am quite sure everyone in my family has music running in their head at all times, and I don't know why that is, but we do. And tonight, in mine, it's Beethoven. It's like an iPod which God instilled in us at birth. It's a good blessing, to be sure. It's really odd, though, sometimes, when a tune is right there in my head and I cannot discern it, and cannot shake it. But it's right there in my head, to be sure. One day last week, it was Wagner. And Wagner is difficult music to be roaming about in one's head.
I had lunch with a fun friend this afternoon. We talked about a Bible study she is going to. (I started one such study, eager and enthusiastic, but the study entailed a whale of a video each week, and at 50+ years, I acknowledge that some 40 years ago, I could well have been diagnosed Attention Deficit, the video portion of the Bible study was difficult for me to sit through...and I digress...)
What came up from this conversation was a memory of 21 years ago. I was a mother of two young daughters, and was home on maternity leave from TransWorld Airlines with my newborn baby boy. He was six months old when I was to return to work, and I opted to "retire". I was happy to stay home with my kids. The hard part? The most irritating, disgraceful part of this decision? When I would go to a function with my post-doc husband, and someone would ask me, "What do you do?" and I would innocently reply, "I am a Stay-at-Home Mom."
The inquisitor would then very abruptly turn and move on to another person at the gathering. I did not exist. I did not have a brain or a conversation to exchange. So they thought...
This still rankles me, now in my 50s, because I know full-well that "Stay-at-Home" Moms have
A) common sense
B) College degrees
C) or not! Maybe just great women who are valuable people!!!
And now, I am off to enjoy my Indian cuisine.
Sans that Spouse o' Mine.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
I'm Going to be Sorry in the Morning...
Today's wind was forecast as 32 mph, with 45 mph wind gusts. A whole weekend of wind. Ugh.
This afternoon I finally announced to the cats and that Spouse o' Mine that I had had it: I was going out for a short run. I would run down to the bridge and check on construction. Run down, with the wind at my back, and walk home, into the wind. That was the plan!
As I walked out the front door, I said, "You know, if it's not too bad, I might just go all the way around the section." And I went out.
The first mile was fairly simple. A 32 mph wind really does the work, as long as I could pick up one foot and then the other. It was so simple, in fact, that I decided to go the whole way around: 5 miles. I knew the easiest part was behind me, and there was going to be some walking going on in my run. I won't bore you with a blow-by-blow account of my experience, except to say that miles 2,3, and 4 were challenging. I couldn't hear much, my eyes went from dry to watering and so on, balance took on a new meaning while running straight into the wind with one hand on top of my head (to keep my cap on), and even moreso when I ran up and down the hills with one hand on my head.
The last mile, coming home, was half & half: walk and run. It felt easy after the previous bit, in part because I was following a treeline which sheltered me somewhat. There were robins all over the trees! It was amazing. About 1/4 mile from our home, I looked across our pasture to see all these robins flying around, and right smack in the middle of them was a giant bird with a snow-white tail.
A bald eagle. In our pasture.
I had to run! I had to show that Spouse o' Mine the big eagle! Was he outdoors? I called out as I lurched along like a derelict, "Are you outside?!" "Are you outside?!" "Are you outside?!!!"
He was not outside. And by the time I made it to the house, went inside, and garbled something unintelligible about "big eagle *breath* white tail *breath* big flying low *breath* so big" and ran back outside, the bald eagle was headed down to the river, away from our house.
I guess the upside to my afternoon, in addition to seeing a pretty eagle, is that I got a final, albeit staggering, sprint in.
This afternoon I finally announced to the cats and that Spouse o' Mine that I had had it: I was going out for a short run. I would run down to the bridge and check on construction. Run down, with the wind at my back, and walk home, into the wind. That was the plan!
As I walked out the front door, I said, "You know, if it's not too bad, I might just go all the way around the section." And I went out.
The first mile was fairly simple. A 32 mph wind really does the work, as long as I could pick up one foot and then the other. It was so simple, in fact, that I decided to go the whole way around: 5 miles. I knew the easiest part was behind me, and there was going to be some walking going on in my run. I won't bore you with a blow-by-blow account of my experience, except to say that miles 2,3, and 4 were challenging. I couldn't hear much, my eyes went from dry to watering and so on, balance took on a new meaning while running straight into the wind with one hand on top of my head (to keep my cap on), and even moreso when I ran up and down the hills with one hand on my head.
The last mile, coming home, was half & half: walk and run. It felt easy after the previous bit, in part because I was following a treeline which sheltered me somewhat. There were robins all over the trees! It was amazing. About 1/4 mile from our home, I looked across our pasture to see all these robins flying around, and right smack in the middle of them was a giant bird with a snow-white tail.
A bald eagle. In our pasture.
I had to run! I had to show that Spouse o' Mine the big eagle! Was he outdoors? I called out as I lurched along like a derelict, "Are you outside?!" "Are you outside?!" "Are you outside?!!!"
He was not outside. And by the time I made it to the house, went inside, and garbled something unintelligible about "big eagle *breath* white tail *breath* big flying low *breath* so big" and ran back outside, the bald eagle was headed down to the river, away from our house.
I guess the upside to my afternoon, in addition to seeing a pretty eagle, is that I got a final, albeit staggering, sprint in.
Saturday, February 09, 2013
Picadilly Circus
Here is that Spouse o' Mine's recent activity, since he can't go out on his bike too often this month:
Wednesday, February 06, 2013
Old is New Again
"Everything is changing. People are taking their comedians seriously and the politicians as a joke."
~ Will Rogers (1879-1935)
In that two of my favorite TV personalities are Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert, I guess Mr. Rogers got it right, back then and even 70+ years later!
~ Will Rogers (1879-1935)
Monday, February 04, 2013
Friday, February 01, 2013
Tea?
My grandmother, Gram, was a china painter.
On a day during which the temperature did not climb above freezing, a civilized afternoon cup of tea was most welcome.
Thank you, Gram.
On a day during which the temperature did not climb above freezing, a civilized afternoon cup of tea was most welcome.
Thank you, Gram.
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