Yesterday

It still ain't weird, it's still just a beard

This picture reminded me the John Muir injured his right eye in a machining accident

There are many different kinds of beards but I am not talking about the Goatee, Van dyke, Flapwings, Claus-esque, Chin-muffler, Queen's brigade, Wilted cigar, Soup strainer, Jaw-brisstle, Wispy wiggins, Wandering Jim, Meat-grinder or Dangle swaggles. 

I do not think Whitman's beard qualifies him for bear status

What I am referring to are the two major types of beards:Real and Hipster. I do not usually mention hipsters on this blog but I am today I am moved to do so. The above are famous men with real beards, sometimes called "mentor beards."

Bear beards are real beards.

This is an example of a hipster beard, a nice hipster beard.

I make no qualitative judgement on which beard, the real or the hipster, is the better beard.

But I thought I might clarify the issue when it comes to the beard that I had and the whiskers that I have. Having not shaved for the past couple weeks seems to have invited opinion on whether I should grow a beard or not. Those in favor tend to be less fervent in their opinions. They tend toward variations on, "Oh, are you growing your beard back? I liked your beard but do what you want." Those against tend to have stronger anti feelings such as, "No! Do not grow your beard back!" I tell them I have not made up my mind but I promise not to grow my beard back. If I do grow a beard it will be a new one.

Last night a woman gave here beard opinion that went something like this, "If you have a big beard you are basically saying I am a bad-ass and I have this bad-ass beard." She said the other possibility was that you simply did not have a beard.

A gentleman present said, "I just thought your beard was a sign of depression."

When I do get the urge to stop shaving it is more often influenced by an old man with a gray beard - known as a Graybeard - rather than a 20 something dude in a rock band. It could be because I can relate to the lifestyle of a graybeard - driving around in a truck or sitting in a lawn chair - than that of a rock star. But to some, the fact that I even wrote a blog post about beards sets my beard in hipster stone.

Walk

Rhymes with Dancer

What if the biggest thing in one’s life is really none of your business? And by “none of your business,” I mean your business, not mine. I’ve been spending the last couple of weeks crying, throwing up, listening to other people cry and throw up, feeding people, being fed (given food), helping others sleep, trying to help myself sleep, trying to distract myself and my friends, laughing at the absurdity of it. What is it? Cancer. I do not have it, knock on wood. But it recently snuck up on some friends. That seems to be cancer’s MO. First you don’t have it then you do. Sneaky bastard. Cancer is also like that car you recently bought; it is everywhere you look, every grocery store parking lot, every coffee shop, every curriculum committee meeting. Everyone either has it or a close friend or relative has it. I may have never actually said “cancer happens to other people,” but I am pretty sure I felt it. But this time cancer did not happen to other people. This time it happened to specific people, my people. One might argue that it happened to one person (especially if I weren’t being so vague) but I am a witness that cancer happened to many people a couple of weeks ago.

The question at the top is my way of figuring out how to write about what’s on my mind when what’s on my mind is other people’s personal tragedy. Trying to turn the personal into a more universal, and perhaps philosophical question.

This experience has brought home to me something that I long suspected. I love these (secret) people.

Coffee?

Kitty?

I was preparing to photograph a cat approaching my front door but when I clicked the shutter this is what I got. The cat was not Sebastian and not harmed.

Pallet Chair

Step 1: dismantle a pallet

Step 2: Cut into Pieces

Step 3: Assemble chair

Step 4: Finish chair

This chair was made from a pallet I found behind a dumpster and a headboard that belonged to Brian Taylor, of Brian Taylor & Son Contractors. Brian is in Chile so he wont notice that his headboard has been turned into a chair until January. The design was based on pictures I found on the Internet. I picked the one that looked the easiest to make. It is surprisingly comfortable to sit in. And it looks good on my lawn. Shut up.

Sebastian continued

In the kitchen

Hanging out in my kitchen window

Pretending to be dead because I made him leave after harassing the birds.

Sebastian

This is my neighbor's cat. He loves birds. He loves sneaking into my house. He weighs 20 pounds.

Fishing Trip

Bill, it turns out, comes from a fishing family. Or a fish family rather. His brother Steve owns a fish farm in Alabama. That could explain Bill's expectation that we would get to the lake and the fish would be happily waiting for us to pluck them out of the water like apples from a tree.

Dante, left, is what people in the medical business call a malingerer. If you are like me you are looking at this poor afflicted toy poodle asking yourself what happened to his neck. Whiplash? That was my assumption. But his otherwise active, chipper and general healthy countenance belied that assumption. I started to notice the little guy turning his head when Kirstin would point out this Western Grebe on the left or that White Pelican on the right. Eventually I could not longer take the farce so I yelled out, "Dante!" As suspected, Dante turned his head almost 180 degrees like an owl and looked at me with expectation. I said, "aha!"

In your face little toy poodle lier. Then Kirstin said, "it's a life jacket, not a neck brace."

So then I noticed Diego with his head in traction. Before I made a fool of myself I decided that he was simply looking for support for his ungainly head while he napped.

One of the first things we did after launching the boat was set crawdad traps. Above was the climactic moment as we awaited a cage teaming with little lobsters.

Nothing but two delicious strips of bacon. None of us knew the regulations on bacon so we set them free.

Be fruitful and multiply gross, wet, fatty strips of bacon!

Summer House

Lucky Peak The Movie

Lucky Peak

Diego and I took the motor boat for a cruise at Lucky Peak Lake. This lake is more like a river with a damn at each end. But it is not that simple, for Lucky Peak has three ends.

Missrecognized

At home depot I was approached by a young couple. I knew the young man because he was a former student. They were both happy to see me even though, as far as I knew, I had never met the woman. I introduced myself to her and she laughed and said, "I thought you were serious." Then she alluded to the tools in my hand asking if I was breaking into cars. "Medical school must be expensive," she laughed. I thought she was simply making a joke that I did not get. Then the young man referred to my "scrubs." I was not wearing Doctor Duds. They said three things that implied that I was a doctor. I wonder if I am their doctor? Or if they think I am.

It is nice to be recognized. I am just glad they weren't in the midst of a medical emergency because I would have been useless. There is probably some handsome doctor in Boise being mistaken for a photography teacher.

Pseudoscorpion

If my Scorpions cover band ever gets of the ground I think I will name them, "Pseudoscorpions."

I was lying on a dock at a lovely high altitude lake when I felt a little tingle on my neck. I reached back and brushed one of these

onto the dock. You have probably heard of the recent bedbug epidemic. Psuedoscorpions enjoy eating bedbugs. In fact everything I read about psuedoscorpions makes it sound like having some in the house is a good thing. They also eat clothes moths, booklice, ants, and mites.

Pseudoscorpions hitchhike on flying insects like the one pictures above.

Tarzan

I am once again in the process of moving. I am pretty slow at it because I tend to look through all my numerous possessions. Today I was looking through a journal that I kept back in the 80s. May 21, 1989 I wrote, "I want to be the type of guy that when people see me walking down the street they say, 'Now there's the next Tarzan.'"

Glass Cabin

A gift from my pal Laurie. Not my sister Laurie. She didn't give me a gift.

Political corner

People in Murfreesboro Kentucky do not want a mosque because the muslims hate them because they are Christians so they would like to pre hate the muslims because the muslims are gonna hate them anyway. Something to that effect. Also I heard (on the radio) one lady yell, "Islam is not a religion!" You can't argue with that except by saying, "Yes it is!"

Some also expressed fear of Sharia Law. Hmm. No wonder people think people in the South are stupid. But how does that explain people in New York? No wonder people think Americans are stupid.

Summer's over

Summer is officially over. Not meteorolgically over, just officially over. Summer ends with the Dean's meeting at school every year. The Dean ends summer. It is always at this time of year that I start thinking in earnest about hiking, camping, boat building, cabin repairs, etc. I should be thinking of syllabi, tenure, football season. Not football season. I do not ever have to think about football if I don't want to. But our team, the Bucking Broncos, is one of the best in the land. I do like horses.