Santa Clausing

Online shopping (or attempted shoppping) plus some lower level workshopping. 

Fog this morning, and another difficult walk with Pax.  Hardly out of the driveway he heard distant gunfire and wanted to go back. I decided we would walk anyway, which was probably a bad idea.  I thought it might be good to try to tough it out, with occasional stops for calm encouragement, but no. It seemed that as soon as we got our minds off gunshots and onto smelling good stuff, another distant volley would knock us back to terror. So, it is looking like weekend walks during November and December are going to have to be eliminated. Training Pax to ignore gunfire is right up there wih training him to fly. Is it genetics or past traumatic experience? I think both. And while Pax will never learn to love shooting, I have learned that forcing the issue during the endless hunting season here in Wisconsin is not a good idea.

******

I would also like to suggest that if you like to hunt you should use your teeth, a knife, a spear, or a draw bow. Shooting is unsportsmanlike, and really annoys some dogs.

The Moving of Parts

(Borrowiing from, and somewhat debasing, Henry Reed)

Today we had the moving of iceboat parts, specifically runners and plank from one location to another. Fortunately, we were able to stop for lunch at our favorite restaurant in Whitefish Bay. Considering the weather, we were glad nobody asked us what we were doing.

Christmas classics? 

 ********************

Today we have naming of parts. Yesterday,
We had daily cleaning. And tomorrow morning,
We shall have what to do after firing. But today,
Today we have naming of parts. Japonica
Glistens like coral in all the neighboring gardens,
And today we have naming of parts.

This is the lower sling swivel. And this
Is the upper sling swivel, whose use you will see,
When you are given your slings. And this is the piling swivel, Which in your case you have not got. The branches
Hold in the gardens their silent, eloquent gestures,
Which in our case we have not got.

This is the safety-catch, which is always released
With an easy flick of the thumb. And please do not let me
See anyone using his finger. You can do it quite easy
If you have any strength in your thumb. The blossoms
Are fragile and motionless, never letting anyone see
Any of them using their finger.

And this you can see is the bolt. The purpose of this
Is to open the breech, as you see. We can slide it
Rapidly backwards and forwards: we call this
Easing the spring. And rapidly backwards and forwards
The early bees are assaulting and fumbling the flowers:
They call it easing the Spring.

They call it easing the Spring: it is perfectly easy
If you have any strength in your thumb: like the bolt,
And the breech, the cocking-piece, and the point of balance,
Which in our case we have not got; and the almond blossom
Silent in all of the gardens and the bees going backwards and forwards,
For today we have the naming of parts.

by Henry Reed

Lovely Spring Day

No need for a coat while waking today. Pax and I to Walworth and Lou's shop to retireve the problematic iceboat plank that has to go back to the builder because he chocks are too small for our standard Sarns iceboat runners.  No little irony here: a 60 degree day on December 4 and we're talking iceboat. Ice? Did you say ice?

Actually, Bob and Lou are attending a regatta this weekend on Lake Christina, near Alexandria, MN. They have ice, but it is thin and wet. 

Here's the two-up iceboat trailer Bob and Lou are rebuilding for #10 and #165.

Tonight, for dinner, it's Great Lakes yellow perch (from Canada)  and butternut squash from the back yard.

Seriously Soggy

Saturated, even to the point where the sump pump has reactivated itself, which seldom happens as the house sits rather high, and the land slopes away on three-and-a-half sides.

The creek, while not flooding, is high in its banks and running strong. 

We were able to walk the prairie today without gunshots (rare anywhere in the country these days) so Pax was fine, but the low spots were not only damp but deep, and Sue had to wade through ice water in tennis shoes.

I hope deliberations are going well in Paris.  

Wet Snow

Sue is at Bywater Lane helping out with sick (although mending) kids.

Well.

It really is too bad that the Squarespace blog document I was working on last night blew up just seconds before I was about to hit SAVE. What I had down in electrons at that time was probably the best writing of the year—lilting, Insightful, humorous, lucid—all that sort of thing. Up there with Calvin Trillin, if I do say so myself.

But, then it blew up, and once that happens one tends to feel deflated and disinclined to try to go back and re-write. Certainly, I should have, but I just couldn’t, so now the world is a lesser place. Sorry about that.

Today was not nearly so interesting, (fortunately). Although yesterday was good for material material development, I would not want to groundhog-day it again and again, or even repeat it once.

So, on to today. Snow, but amounting to nothing. Sue in Fox Point helping out with Katy and Will who have hoof and mouth disease (though now rapidly improving) (adults don’t seem to get it). 

I tried taking Pax for a walk in the prairie, but he heard noises and vetoed that idea.

Speaking of vetoes—at the present moment in history, this week, we have the president of our nation, a leader respected around the world, in Paris working hard to persuade delegates from everywhere else (some of whom are seeing their countries sinking beneath the ocean) to come together and adopt a program that will keep the planet from boiling over, thus giving our kids and grandkids a chance at survival. But meanwhile, back in Washington, the gang of oil-and-coal-financed Republican thugs in Congress are passing legislation intended to directly cut him down, and announcing to the world that we don’t give a damn. Money and re-election first, far more important than a livable planet.

I worked one summer in high school for the Crystal Lake sewer department, and as my boss was there was wont to say, dozens of time a day, "holy horse shit."

Tired Out

Sue's Prius has 85,884 miles on it, although that hardly seems possible. Original tires. In theory, winter coming on. Taking all that together it looks like a recommendation for new treads. But that's where things got complicated.

The Toyota dealer in Janesville, where we bought the car, gave us a quote on four new, but the quote seemed high. I therefor went online this morning and spent an hour researching the best replacements for a Prius. Armed with that information I called the nearest Costco to see what they could do. They didn't have the exact tires, but they did have things that were equivalent, or better, or almost as good. And they were on sale. 

I therefore spent the next half hour trying to sign up online for a Costco membership. I filled out and clicked down, and filled out and clicked down, and eventually found myself in a cul-de-sac.

"Okay, Sue, you try it."

Half an hour later: "No way, this is ridiculous."

And...the rest of the story, which I spent a good while writing has just disappeared before I could save it. So I leave it to the imagination. Maybe tomorrow I will feel like re-writing.

Dark and Dank

Drizzle or rain all day, with nothing resembling sunshine. Temperature hovering right above freezing. On the upside, hunting season seems to be over.

This spruce has cohones.

Almost nothing of significance accomplished today.

I am reluctant to mention medical matters in a blog, but now that I am enrolled in PT I spend about 45 minutes a day gently trying to push down the walls of the house. My therapist says it's okay, but I wonder what a shrink would say.

Luckily, and also on the upside, I'm too old to die young. 

Avidly following the Paris climate conference.  

Penultimate November Day

Hard frost overnight, but sunny and warming after sunrise. It appears that we are continuing in our El Nino inspired endless autumn. Heading out to the prairie for our late afternoon walk I wore nothing more that a sweatshirt (of course the walk lasted no more than 5 minutes because Pax heard a gunshot. ) Both Pax and I are looking forward to the end of hunting season, as I suspect are the deer. Furthermore, I'm beginning to think iceboating may have to be postponed 'til next year.

Not everything that counts can be counted, and not everything that can be counted counts. 

Ice on Puddles

Mostly sunny, with a cool northerly breeze. To Fort in the forenoon for a walk along the Crawfish where Pax rolled an agressive ittle dog that had the temerity to charge. Then to the library, and then a nearby coffeeshop for a cup of chili and an Italian seltzer.

After noon to Victoria Lane, with a big pot of turkey soup, to see Bri and the kids and have a bit of supper. 

The most exciting adventures are usually caused by bad judgment or lack of knowledge.

—Vilhjalmur Stefansson

Gray Friday

Chily and gray, more like November.

This was yesterday. Today not a trace of snow. 

Whitewater creek, which a few weeks ago was just a trickle, is now to the top of its banks rushing along. Pleasant day with Irene—leisurely breakfast, much conversation, long dog walk, computer and graphic arts projects.

Small Crowd, Big Feast

Irene and Emmee visiting. So just three people and two dogs, but still we had every possible dish, from Brussels sprouts to mincemeat pie, and all beyond delicious.

Rain all day, and warm. 

Feel the Bern

You gotta love Benie Sanders. 

A sign in a neighbor's yard (We do live in a leftist 'hood).

The thing is, he's four years older than me, and I can't understand how that can be. He must be super-human to keep the schedule he does, and face the stresses he faces, and still sleep. I can hardly sleep when the most stressful thing in my vicinity is a burnt-out lightbulb. And then to want to spend four or more years dealing with ISIS and Putin, and Congress?

The thing is, he is right on every issue, and his ideas are exactly what this country desperately needs.  I hope to vote for him somehow, someway, though I suspect he will never be president— there's the clown car on one side, and a steep Hill on the other.

Moon Over Diamonds...

...Over baseball diamonds, that is. Sunny day, with the temp above freezing most of the time. By late afternoon it was possible to walk around the neighborhood and park without creepers.

Fascinating article in the NYT about genetically engineered mosquitoes, designed so that they are immune to malaria and therefore can not pass it on to humans.

(http://www.nytimes.com/2015/11/24/science/gene-drive-mosquitoes-malaria.html?_r=0)

Sacre bleu!  While I am opposed to genetically modified food, including the recently announced super salmon, I find this fascinating. And, adding to the fascination, is the technique of "gene drive" which pushes the genetic modification into the population very rapidly. Theoretically, malaria could be wiped from the face of the earth within a decade.

And this has me thinking about Asian carp. I'm wondering if using genetic engineering and gene drive it might be possible to turn them into super salmon. I'd try one then.

Oh, it's going to be a brave new world.

Puttering About

Slow warming and a little melt.  Various bits of project work around the house including some Santa's workshop pre-prep.

Not holly, just rose hips

Ice (with geese) in Cravath Lake, stirring thoughts of iceboats.

And, above, the cover of the Sept/Oct, 2015 issue of Wooden Boat. Vixen once again the cover girl. The current owners have been living aboard and sailing far for the past 10 years. The boat was built in 1952 and is still having fun. There's a lesson there.

Thanks to cousin Art for sending the magazine. (Note: Art was fond of climbing the mast and sitting up on the crosstrees.)

Bywater Party

Lots of fun and good things to eat at the pre-holiday party.

The brisket turned out well, though it may have been outshone by Mimi's cherry pie. 

The kids played hard and ate well, and then really tucked into dessert: the cherry pie of course, and apple crisp, and ice cream, and chocolate sauce on most everything. 

Snow Day

Lots of sandhills passing ovehead this afternoon. These are probably the less astute individuals, as yesterday large flocks, one over 100 strong, were moving south in advance of the snowstorm. 

And when the bird feeder went up yesterday, it was well attended almost immediately. 

Prepping for Un-Thanksgiving

Family get-together (all 5 grandkids included) Sunday in Fox Point. Sort of a pre-T'Gving party, but with no turkey allowed. And that puts me in the enviable position of getting to provide some alternative viande, and that gives me the opportunity to see if I can meet the high BBQ brisket bar Bri has established. (I am following his direction, but brisket prep is a delicate, day-long operation with much room for error.) So, the flat has been rubbed with a fabulous rub and is now chilling in the fridge. The Big Green Egg has been appropriately rigged, and loaded with hardwood charcoal. Pecan chips are soaking in the sink.

The only complicaton—snow. Winter storm warning in effect, with 6 to 10 predicted. It took repeated attempts, separated by many hours, to get the cranky snow-blower to start, but eventually, in a vast cloud of blue smoke, it sprang to life. Then, a few minutes later, when visibility was finally returning, neighbor Bill came over to tell me that when he tried starting up his machine yesterday the only result was a puddle of gasoline on the garage floor. Bill is an early riser, and a dedicated snow blower, so our trusty old machine is now in his garage; and I know that when I hear it roar by tomorow morning it wil be time go get up.

Aye, there's the rub. 

And here we have the brisket meister (on the left) issuing instructions, while the rooftop farmer (on the right) is sampling local foodstuff. 

Growing Power

While Mimi took Will to school at the Schlitz Audubon Center,  Ab and I went to Growing Power, the world renowned urban farm (which turned out to be) on the outskirts of Milwaukee (although we always thought it was somewhere in the inner city). I have been thinking about this place for decades. I've heard the founder, Will Allen, speak at conferences. And I've always meant to visit.

Today Ab and I did. 

In brief, it was interesting, but far, far, far, from what I was expecting—actually, something of a shabby reality check (which from time to time is probably a good thing).  The photos below are of the exterior, but it is only fair to say that most of the operation occurs in half a dozen decrepit greenhouses that Allen purchased long ago, and at other parcels of land located out in farm country.

Snarly wind and steadily dropping temperatures. Snow in the forecast.  

Puddles Everywhere

Lots and lots of rain, resulting in puddles. 

And here is homeroom at Will's preschool. A change of clothes was necessary before heading into the classroom. Meanwhile, Katy is writing a book titled, "The Boy Who Turned Into a Dog." 

Day of Rain...

...causing forced idleness, some arm-chair reading, a trip to the coffee shop, computer work, and short dog-walks.

A fat ribbon of rain (as seen on on radar) has been streaming northward, from Rockport to Sault Ste. Marie, all day, just barely inching westward. Although it looks like the heaviest dumps have been in the St. Louis area, we are getting significant moisture, which is good for the Canada hemlock planted in the way-back a few years ago. I had pretty much given up on the tree, but am now delighted to see it staging a strong comeback.

Puddle at base of birch.