Not Swine Flu

This poor blog has been neglected. Maybe it’s sick like me. A couple Fridays ago I had symptoms that reminded me of Robert, the former star of this blog. For a few minutes, 30 maybe, I could not read or write. I felt fine but when I attempted to read I would get stuck at the bigger words, like those of four or more letters. Then I tried to write a few words on the computer but failed. I laughed nervously and tried to shake it off. I would look away from the computer, shake my head and try again. That did not work. Then I tried unsuccessfully to type “Alzheimer's” and “dementia” into the search box on my computer. When my right hand and tongue started to numb I decided to go to the doctor where I proceeded to have the worst headache of my life. My life or anybody else’s. Maybe not anybody else’s. Eventually I was given a shot of Demerol. I had ridden my bike to the doctor’s office so I had to call Ted for a ride home. Then I slept for a long time. Apparently it was a migraine.
I skipped a couple details like throwing up and crying.
Now I simply have a nagging cough.

Charlie White

Watch for the cabin reference in this video by Charlie White.

Ant Eater

This gal is slowly taking care of my ant problem. Note the shed exoskeleton in her web.

This is a music video so you might want to adjust you volume accordingly.

Arizona

This sandstorm hit us, or we hit it, hours after wind blew our bikes off the roof of my car. Luke and I were on our way to Tucson to do research - conduct research, excuse me - at the Center for Creative Photography at the University of Arizona.

Another Hound

Hounds

Luke and I were out on our deca-annual trip to the Owyhee Front and came across a group of gentleman training hounds. Here are the some of Luke's photos from the trip.

Diego

Left Behind Trilogy

Somewhere there are three right gloves and an organic onion trying to find their way home.

Recent Acquisition

The above painting was purchased with discretionary funds from a local establishment at a very reasonable cost. I suppose buying a painting cheap is to be expected considering the current state of the art market. The establishment is not a gallery per se, but they regularly carry a few paintings, prints and photographs. They also have a wide selection of records, books, house wares, bric-a-brac, skis, a large pile of children's bikes, washing machines, stereo equipment, tools and clothes.
But the painting: This piece is a departure from other paintings in my collection as the bulk of the permanent collection consists of paintings with animal motifs like a woodpecker, a deer or a caribou being attacked by two wolves. Moving into the world of collecting figurative work is exciting. I find I can look at this painting for hours while I invent complicated narratives that help explain how the two figures ended up hanging from a cliff. But I will keep my speculations to myself and let this painting do what it does best – provoke thought.

Slow Down

I am listening to a woman speak in slow motion. At some point in life some people slow down. Some people really slow down. “He’s the genuine article,” she’s saying. Unfortunately, no matter how slowly I write, I cannot convey how slowly she talks. What I can do is tell you that I am fascinated by the slow, deliberate way she speaks. And the phrase, “the genuine article,” is a nice one. As a clerk in a fish market, I had a customer who was between 80 and 100 years old. When it came time to pay, she slowly opened her checkbook (it might even have been a cheque book) and then she apologized in advance for how long it was going to take to write the check. “It’s ok, take your time,” I told her. And then she proceeded, in beautiful, old-fashioned handwriting, to fill out the check. I told her it was worth the wait.

I call it old-fashioned handwriting in part because it took her two full minutes to write the check. It is a rare person these days who spends that much of his/her time writing a check. I write checks so fast you’d think the check was in boiling water.

Resolutions

Exercise more, share my interests with other like my nutcracker collection for example, cross-country ski more, do not take up smoking. I can't think of any thing else. Happy New Year!

The Radio

Sometimes I go through the day oblivious of my peril. I'd be willing to bet you do too. I cavalierly walk on frozen sidewalks, sleep in a basement without first checking the radon level, and eat from garbage cans. Earlier, I got in my car - dangerous - and turned on the radio - safe. Wrong. Not safe. The few words I heard on the radio were..."the doner's face. The transplant..." It was at that point in the narrative that I turned the radio off. It turns out listening to the radio can be dangerous. Face transplants are things I do not want to hear about, see, or even know about. If I ever need a face replacement please kill me. That is, only if I need a new face.
If you are equally squeamish about face transplants, then you can add Cabin to the list of dangerous things.

Zeitungsartikel

Not Drinking

It's hard to be a non-drinker in Germany. Even though I don't drink, my friendly hosts (by hosts I mean everyone in Germany) expected me to have a full drink of something, anything, in my hand. It can be water, coke, milk, but if I put it down someone will immediately bring me another or ask, "where is your drink?" I can understand why those who drink alcohol want to drink one after another but why would anyone want to drink 6 cokes in a row? Or even six glasses of water? We went to a party early last week and I was offered three beers in less than a minute so I picked up an empty to appear liquidly occupied. It worked like a charm.

Thanksgiving Bear Week

Luke and I are in Cologne for Thanksgiving, an art opening and Bear Week. Luke was here last year at the same time and it was also Bear Week and Thanksgiving. What is it with Luke and Thanksgiving? Yesterday we were in a café when six bears walked in (they were not anything like the bears that messed up my cabin two years in a row) and I suddenly became very aware of my beard. My big beard. My big bushy beard. Not for the first time, I was glad I was not wearing my sleeveless, denim jacket. Come to think of it, where is my sleeveless denim jacket?

Cat

This morning I caught this little animal looking in my window - twice.

Flying

Over the years I have developed flight anxiety. It does not happen every time I fly and it is eased by simply sitting in the front row, preferably in an aisle seat. I am in a plane now and I am so far from my preferred seat that I am surprised that I am still in the plane. 34F in this plane means back row window.


The woman to my left (excuse me if you are reading over my shoulder) smells like cigarettes and a beauty salon. She smells exactly like my poor dead grandmother used to smell on Tuesdays with tobacco mixed in. Tuesdays were the days Nonnie (that’s what we called her) had her hair set.

I do not know why it is that sometimes I feel like freaking out on a plane and other times I do not. But I realized that if I am seated next to someone more helpless than I, I do not feel anxiety. It rarely happens that I am seated next to someone more helpless than I, but recently I was seated next to a newly hatched bird and I think situations like that bring out the protective father in me, if there is one in there. One tends to be a less effective protector when one is freaking out.

Different subject:

Now, I don’t believe that I have the most sensitive nose in the world or even in this airplane, but I can tell when someone has had an unfortunate movement at an unfortunate moment in a small space – an airplane lavatory. At least I hope it was in the lavatory. When the odor hit my nose I made a face to indicate that I was aware of the smell and then attempted to make a face that said, “Wasn’t me.”

Bed Time in Chicago

Sometimes I think there is nothing left to write about and then something like this happens.

The cat threw up on my bed. My bed in Chicago is in a room without a light switch so I went to bed in complete darkness and therefore did not notice the throw up until I had already stepped, sat and knelt in it. And then I wiped some of it off my heel and smelled my finger. "Not poop," I thought to myself with some relief. And then I went to sleep.

Don't Blame Me I Live in a Red State

The reddest state in the world.
I've been wondering; will we ever have another white president?

O'Bama