Congratulations...

Congratulations...

Congratulations and best wishes to Ben. Today he wraps up his assignment in Dasmarinas and prepares for an extended tour of South East Asia.

Twenty-seven months wrapping up this week. I can hardly believe it.

Supporting entrepreneurship...

Supporting entrepreneurship...

Tonight I had the wind to my back as I biked home. As I came screaming along the bike path east of 15th Street I was flagged down by Anna, Lydia and Esther. They had a wagon parked by the bike path, and I skidded to a stop, much to their delight. They had tricked out their wagon with little dandelion and creeping charlie bouquets tucked artfully in each corner bracket. The wagon was full of hand made crafts and art work. They had price lists, coupons, drawings... a pretty impressive display.

How could I pass them up? So I bought a hand-knit pouch from Anna and a picture frame from Lydia. Poor Esther - I hope she didn't feel left out.

They each gave me a 50-cent off coupon, so I got everything pictured for three bucks.

They were happy. I was happy. What a deal.

Then I came home and made my first meal out of the garden. My sage bush wintered over nicely, and has lots of new leaves. So I sauteed some up with a little garlic, and served it over pasta with a bunch of Parmesan, and a salad on the side. Yum.

Library nights...

Library nights...

Tonight after supper I took care of a bunch of mundane housekeeping tasks - paid a few bills, balanced my checkbook, that sort of thing. Then I saw the stack of books that I needed to return to the library. It was only a little after eight and it seemed like a good time to take a little walk.

On the way there I was trying to decide if I had to time to read anything new. The last round of books was fairly intense, and I realized I'd like something a little lighter, and maybe not so long. A full-length novel seemed like too big a commitment. That reminded me of NotThatFar's recent post, but I couldn't remember the title or author he recommended.

Fortunately the library now has Internet access, and surprise: there was a station free. So I pulled up the post, found the title and author, then flipped to the GPL online catalog and found it is still on the shelves. So I checked it out and brought it home.

On the walk home I found myself remembering library nights in another lifetime. During the late 80s just about every week - I think it was usually on Wednesdays - I'd pile the kids into the car or in a wagon or on bikes and we'd go to the library. We'd load up with huge stacks of books and bring them home for the week.

That was back before they remodeled the GPL. The kid's section was on the right when you walked in the doors off of 5th Street. (At least that's what I remember. B seems to think it was always downstairs, so I may have it wrong. Does anyone remember for sure?) When it came time to check out, we'd bring a huge stack of books to the desk and help the librarian open them all to the back cover. Then she'd pull out all the cards and replace them with a card stamped with the due date, and feed the card from the book into this punch machine that would notch the card and stamp the due date on it.

CHUNK! CHUNK! CHUNK! Then this old machine would jamb and she'd take out a scissors, carefully clean up the edge, and then CHUNK!

I think my favorite books from the era - and there were a lot of them - were probably Vera B Williams: "Something Special for Me" and "Music, Music for Everyone" and "A Chair for My Mother" and "Three Days on a River in a Red Canoe". Something about the colors and the drawings, and the little heroine, Rosa. She had a lot of spunk, and she was a musician too.

Fond memories.

Slip-slidin' away...

Slip-slidin' away...

We're buried under 3 or 4 inches of slush. Its cold and wet and yucky.

Sometime tonight I'm driving two hours east to Archbold - Arch-i-bold as we like to say it around here - to pick up #1 daughter and friend and smuggle them across the Hoosier line. Only it will probably be about 3 hours east tonight. Could be a late and slippery night.

11:45pm Update - Home again. Toll road was clear and dry. Worst part of the trip was getting in and out of my alley, and that was just get a good running start and don't stop now. Nice to have L under my roof for the night.

Fridge art...

Fridge art...

I don't own a TV, so when I'm worn out at the end of a stressful week and it is drizzling rain, the closest thing I have to sitting blankly in front of the TV is to sit on my porch swing and watch the world go by.

Eventually that wears thin and I figure I can handle a little more excitement, so I go inside and warm up some left overs - and return to the porch swing and watch some more cars.

After an hour or so of this kind of behavior I'm ready to turn it up another notch. So I drag my fiddle and a chair out and play quietly with the practice mute on so I don't draw neighborhood ire.

After a while, my neighbor returns to her house, spots me on the front porch, and the next thing I know, Sophie Comet is running up. "I didn't know you play the violin!" So I play a little for her and then ask her if she played. "I'm not old enough yet," she informs me. I had to ask her again how old she is. "I turned six on May 30."

OK. Now we have that straight.

Anyhow, Lizzie Comet isn't far behind. She shows up with the cool art work at the top of this page. "This is for you," she says. I ask her to tell me about it, and I hear all about how this part was cut out of this other piece, and her friend gave this part to her, and this yellow thing goes in here... I'm very excited to have it and say I'll put it right up on my fridge.

The Comets are troubled by my status in life. They want to know if I'm lonely living by myself, and they don't know what to make of the idea that I'm not married. They want to know why I'm not married any more. "Its a long story," I explain. "Tell me the long story." Oh my.

Fortunately they don't stay on any one topic too long. They are surprised to hear I have kids and when I show them a picture of me with B&L they think L looks sort of familiar. But that other boy - they think maybe I am just a year or two older than him. Sorry B - I'm just telling you what they said.

Meanwhile, Lizzie is using my porch railing as a balance beam and I'm a little nervous but she can reach the porch ceiling and uses it to steady herself.

And Sophie is ready to try out the violin, so we play Twinkle Twinkle. Both of them say they are going to start violin when they get to second grade. (I'm really not trying to corrupt them - it just happens.)

And then it is almost 7:30 and they realize they had better get home because 7:30 is bed time, and they're gone almost as fast as they showed up.

Front porches beat TV every time because you never get Fridge Art from a TV.

Balance...

Balance...

Check out SomeBird's photos. Amazing.

Offshore...

Offshore...

I spent most of the day in my car today, driving #1 daughter to the train station in Windsor. As I write this she should be arriving in Montreal soon. She is looking forward to a week of visiting friends (and a music festival) before her intensive yoga teacher training class. I don't think I posted any thing about my experience with 2 other old guys as her yoga students this summer. We had a great time and I really appreciated a chance to experience that part of her life with her. Someday I'd like to take more yoga instruction. I have the feeling that I know just enough to be dangerous right now.

Are goodbyes are always bittersweet with one's children? Yes, I found a lump in my throat when I said the last farewell. I'm excited for her and proud of her, but I'll miss her dropping in with a leftover loaf of bread, or to steal a carrot out of my garden.

Last night L and some of her friends gave a demonstration on the courthouse lawn as part of First Friday. L had asked me to take some photos. My friends who saw me snapping photos told me they wondered if I had become a leacherous old man until they saw who was in the demo. Which echoed what some of the other students said they thought until introductions were (more or less) made. Anyhow, I thought a couple of the pictures deserved posting.

Warning - environmentalist rant ahead... (And no, S, I'm not going to lighten up.)

Somewhere on my drive today I saw a sign posted on a lawn advocating off-shore oil drilling. The whole idea makes my blood boil. Moments later I got stuck behind a Class A motor home pulling a Honda CRV with 2 bikes on top. You've seen the Class A things - they're essentially the size of a greyhound bus but usually only occupied by two people. This particular unit had Georgia plates on it.

There is something obscene about drilling for oil in the ocean floor while these kinds of vehicles are still on the road.

But I can never win this one. We will, despite the stupidity of it, foul the waters in our oceans from off-shore drilling, ruin the Artic National Wildlife Refuge (ANWR) and continue to wage wars over oil. All so we can continue to drive our class A homes across the country.

And of course I'm part of the problem. I drove carefully and eeked out 31mpg (probably 0.10x the rate of the guy in the Class A rig) but I still burned about 15 gallons of the stuff. Maybe the guy in the Class A home didn't see any other options either.

And in other news...

The bat was back the other night. I had my br door closed, but there was a small space open under the door so he could have slipped in underneath that. I don't see any other way in, and so it is under door or I have to accept the teleporting theory. I have a new theory of entry points involving the downstairs bathroom fan. I need to get some grating to cover up a vent entrance and give it some time to see if it works.

Posting...

Posting...

Is it the spring weather? None of my favourite bloggers seems to be posting these days. Of course I live in a glass house and can't throw stones; I haven't been carrying my weight either.

So much going on these days. This is the first night in weeks that I haven't been racing out to do something.

I played golf twice since my last post, and, as one golfing buddy said, I had PMS: my game Pretty Much Sucks. I knew when I hit that 45 that I wouldn't start hitting that every time I went out. But to add about a dozen strokes over 9 holes is humbling. Ah, golf.

My garden is all in. I read there is a small chance of frost tonight so I put my newly sprouting beans and tomatoes under blankets. This weekend I put up my trellis for the climbers on the North sides of the boxes. This makes that setting out blankets a snap, as long as the wind doesn't blow them away.

My biggest headache is the !*#^!@#@ed squirrel. He comes and digs up my plants looking for tidbits. Just about every day he comes and digs up another square. I try to love all of God's creatures, but this one is pushing my buttons.

My second biggest headache is watching out for poison ivy. So far I've managed to see it before it saw me. A couple times I plastered it with Roundup, which seems effective, and other times I just used the tried and true dig it out method.

The third biggest headache is the Creeping Charlie. A friend finally identified the stuff that has taken over my front yard and that is well on the way to taking over the back too. Its futile, but my goal is to wipe the stuff off my yard, without resorting to things that I wouldn't want to find on my dinner plate. This means a lot of hand pulling.

In other news, #1 daughter moved in with me for a couple of days. She's been sick and wanted someplace to stay and recover from whatever it is that has her down. Glad I can help her.

Fare thee wells...

Fare thee wells...

This morning I boarded a plane for a five day business trip to Phoenix. I also said goodbyes to both daughter and son, who leave, respectively, on Tuesday and Wednesday for 14 months in Quebec/Ontario/Quebec and 27 months in Philippines. Time spent with them in Goshen these last few weeks was precious, and I savored, and am grateful for, every minute we had.

Words can't express all that I feel, or all that I wish for them. But any parent who has watched their child grow from the little girl who turns cart wheels, or the little boy making motor noises with his matchbox cars ('get your vrummer going'), and into thoughtful, creative, adventurous young adult knows what I'm talking about. These are people whose insight and counsel I respect, and whom I'd be proud to call my friends. And by God, they're my children.

Go kids! You amaze me and I'm so damned proud of you. You ride on the wings of my prayers. I love you both.