The Big Listen

Once upon a time, long, long ago, the father (a management consultant) of one of my eighth grade students came into his daughter's computer applications class (which I ran as a business) to give, as a guest speaker, a presentation. (I encouraged this sort of thing.) The gist of his presentation was: "Telling isn't selling; asking is." 

I don't know if any of the kids in the class heard a word that he said, but I did, and I thought the statement profound, perhaps because it explicitly stated something I had incipiently suspected. What he said is: if you want to sell a product or service or idea, or promote anything, you need to stop talking and start listening—listening intently and with genuine interest. I knew it was true the minute he said it, and I've seen the idea work wonders ever since.

And this is where the Democratic Party comes in: this past election—there was lots and lots of telling but almost no listening.

I am therefore badgering (this is Wisconsin, after all) the Party to initiate what I call "The Big Listen." Lots of town-halls, but with ordinary people on the dais and politicians asking the questions. And lots of what might be called questionnaires, on issues like health care, education, the environment, taxes, etc. 

Instead of questionnaires, I call them Queries, based on the idea of Thomas Gilbert in his profound book, Human Competence, Engineering Worthy Performance. The idea behind Gilbert's Query is that of asking questions and then letting the reader (customer, client, citizen) figure things out for him or herself.

So I, with great temerity, have decided to create a Query on the issue of healthcare. This is a rough draft (I am meeting with Glenn to to learn the real stuff), and I know it's silly. Still and all, I think the idea is sound and points in the right direction.

Note: for some reason, the instructions to respondents was not printed on this draft layout. My bad. It will be fixed, and perhaps for now, it will still make sense.

Otherwise, the weather has been awful—dark, damp, chilly, gray, and now with a building wind—another gale warning on Lake Michigan. According to my weather app today's high was 107 and tonight's low will be 9. In this era of truthiness I give more credence to the low score.

Chicken Soup for the Sinuses

Plus cherry pie. Most effective cold cure yet discovered.  

Time for some reflection, perhaps?

Well above freezing, with a sunny morning and a little light afternoon rain. Walking with Pax turned out to be a bit on the painful side due to residual iceboating effects, but the few minutes spent on two wheels felt heavenly—remembrance of things past, or anticipation of things to come? Not certain. Today's weather has thoroughly Zambonied the local lakes, and it appears that a deep cold snap might arrive without snow. That can't be bad.

Perfect Little Pond

Too small for iceboating, but a world of its own, with a spring, cattails, and a variety of wildlife. What, I wonder, made those tracks on the ice?

Previously.

Beautiful, sunny day. Tony and I back on the ice at 10 (after a leisurely breakfast with Abby, Katy, and Will— featuring Mimi's blueberry pancakes). Perfectly lovely, but no wind. Even so it was a wonderful winter weekend, and a good start to what we might hope will be a tolerable year.

Fast Ice

Excellent iceboating, and some impressive racing (by Tony).  

The thoroughbreds (10 & 165)

Tony coming in after a strong performance.

Completely outclassed. Actually, a silly thing to try.

The Grand Slam regatta on Lake Kegonsa. Twelve or more Nites racing (taking turns with various other classes). Tony got a Fourth, a Third, a  Second, and a Disqualify (for hitting a mark). He is fast. I got a 6th on my one race (but I beat a bunch of old guys. 

On The Ice

At last.  The venerable Grand Slam fun regatta has been called on for Saturday and Sunday on Lake Kegonsa, south of Madison. Tomorrow Solstice (#165) and Wombat (#10) will unfurl their sails for the first time this season. Let the wild rumpus start.

Our boats are still on the trailer, in the middle, between red and blue. On the ice, but not enough time to get set up. Plenty of time tomorrow.

Some Days Are Like That

Chilly, gray, and windy. Gale warning on Lake Michigan.  

Returning home after some tedious business, I noticed that the plexiglass squirrel baffle, normally sitting just below the bird feeder, had been broken in half and was lying, in pieces, on the ground. Using either induction, deduction, adduction or subduction, I came up with the idea that one of our Sciurus creatures had attempted the now longer rooftop-to-feeder leap, and had almost made it.

After picking up and disposing of the pieces, I made a replacement, using material at hand—much stronger but of which I had little. So the question for tomorrow is: how now, you rascally rodents.

Ice Check

No sailing today.  

Lake Geneva wide open.

Ice on Delevan, but still rough and unsafe.

Folks were going to set up on Pewaukee, but held off because of too much wind. Racing planned for Friday.

Cooling Off Period

Mostly sunny and colder.  

Lately, I've seen the occasional squirrel on the bird feeder and been puzzled by how it got there. Today, as I was conducting my extended daily observation out the kitchen window, I found out how—a leap from the rooftop. Finding that incredible, I got out the tape measure and noted that the leap was of about 9 feet horizontal with a drop of just one and a half feet from roof to feeder. Furthermore, the target is really quite small.

So, I'm proud of my Olympic-class rodents. But even so, I have moved the feeder another foot and a half farther out. Is a leap of ten and a half feet possible? If so, will I be able to keep the feeder in sight of the kitchen window?

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Word is out that people will be beginning to set up iceboats on Pewaukee tomorrow. Mother's Zamboni has apparently done its job. Around here the plan is to be on the ice by Friday noon, all things considered.

The Big Drip

Thaw and melt.  Upper forties around here with a spanking wind from the south.

While Sue was about her visits, also down south, I worked on the big, two-stage snowblower our neighbor Kathy was throwing out (before I rescued it). Changed the oil, greased the bearings, fixed the one flat tire, adjusted the the adjustments; and now it runs like a Foreverspin top.

Which puts me in a difficult position. I want a really big snow so that I can test its mettle, but then snow and iceboating don't go together at all. Today's big melt may have Zambonied the small and medium lakes, so once again there's hope. And the big lakes remain open, awaiting the next dose of really cold cold.

Which may be coming. Today's spanking wind began veering this afternoon from south to north-west, and the the thermometer has been falling fast.

Thinking about it, snowblower vs. iceboat—nolo contendere.

Quiet Christmas

Traditional  dinner at the Morrisons, but for the first time ever a quiet one, just the four of us (plus Pax), which allowed extended conversation. And some top spinning, and several hands of Timeline.

Perfect spin

Light rain, strong wind, temp in the upper 30s. Night not fit for man nor beast.

Random Bits...

...on Christmas Eve.  

The town of Whitewater seems deserted. Pax and I had a long walk on campus and saw no one, only occasional footprints. McDonalds and Walmart about the only things open. 

And, speaking of open, I remember Bookstore Christmas Eves, when we were very much open, in fact experiencing pandemonium right up to the closing bell. But then, at five, satisfied relief, and a celebration—we had done it, and made enough money to keep the store alive another year.

Since my memory sometimes falters, I asked John to provide some background:

Mostly, Christmas Eve was something to get past so morning would arrive sooner. Dad always read "The Night Before Christmas " just before bed.  We were allowed to open one gift. Once, I remember going to bed and hearing noises from downstairs (music? I thought).  Come morning we found a new record player under the tree. After opening lots and lots of presents, the cousins would show up, and perhaps also Unkie and Aunt Janet, and after another round of present opening we would eat a big brunch. But this was Christmas Day. I remember hoping for ice (smooth ice) to arrive over Christmas Eve so we could skate on Christmas Day.

Christmas day, mentioned above, reminds me about early Christmas mornings when we kids had to roust our recalcitrant parents out of their long winter's nap. It was slow work. Then Dad had to go downstairs to plug in the Christmas lights—taking forever and seeming to forget about everyone left upstairs. When he eventually returned, subtly suggesting that Santa might or might not, in fact have missed 7 Crandall Avenue, the rest of the family had to line up behind him, single file, in ascending order of age (I do believe), with Mom in back to make sure nobody got lost. Then we would begin descending the stairs. But ever so slowly! And a few steps down, invariably, with the view of the tree still obstructed, progress would halt, and we would encounter some problem that might require a little backing up. Once that got resolved the descent would resume, but slowly.

Eventually, once everyone had a view through the bannister of the tree and what lay below it, there was no more slow.

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ON CHRISTMAS EVE

In byre and barn the mows are brim with sheaves,
   Where stealeth in with phosphorescent tread
The glimmering moon, and, ’neath his wattled eaves,
The kennelled hound unto the darkness grieves
   His chilly straw, and from his gloom-lit shed,

   The wakeful cock proclaims the midnight dread.
With mullioned windows, ’mid its skeleton trees,
   Beneath the moon the ancient manor stands,
Old gables rattle in the midnight breeze,
Old elms make answer to the moaning seas,

   Beyond the moorlands, on the wintry sands,
While drives the gust along the leafless lands.

     —William Wilfred Campbell (19th century Canadian poet)

What I find so interesting about this poem is the complete disassociation between its content and title. Maybe that's why I like it, too.

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Pax is in hunting mode. After yesterday's taste of squirrel he's obsessed. As we were shoveling this morning he chased a rabbit right through the garage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Above freezing most of the day, making it convenient for shrimp on the grill tonight.

Silently The Snow Falls

Heavy, wet snow...fat flakes floating lazily down.  

Dundee cakes, then prep for dinner at the neighbors, which was followed by Sequence. Green lost 3 to 1.

Pax got one today. Returning from a walk, we came around the side of the garage onto the patio only to find a squirrel on the bird feeder (no idea how he got there). Seeing us, he leapt off and landed badly, then bounded through the snow toward safety. Pax quickly overtook him, snatched and threw him in the air—only to see him land at the base of the big red pine where he was able to scrabble out of reach. The blood on the snow, contributed by Pax from a small gash on his cheek, did nothing to dampen his enthusiasm for the hunt.

Another Great Show

This time with Maddie in the starring role.  

Fun numbers, well performed. (Ellie's classroom, while nearby, was busy with its own business and not able to attend.)

In the weather department—bright sun and a temperature above freezing for several hours, both of which contributed to improved (though far from perfect) walking conditions.

Solstice

Shortest day.  

Over to Fox Point to help with furniture moving and other house projects, so the day didn't seem as short as it might have.

A bit of a thaw, with mushy slush.

Now on to lengthening days, and thoughts of spring and summer.

Holiday Pageant

Becca's turn in the limelight.  

Excellent program, followed by wonderful snacks.

In other news, gale force winds from the south relaxing early winter's painful, icy grip.

Some Days Are Like That

Calm, uneventful, relatively unproductive.  (Do have to remember that around here Christmas is over.)

Discarded the idea of sitting out back with a nice fire in the chiminea. Actually, pretty much discarded the idea of being outside at all, although Pax and I did take several painful walks. Serious windchill. On the plus side, cleared out clogged closets and assembled a substantial pile of things to be relocated.

Went swimming, too, at the Aquatic Center, and it is a bit strange to dive into water when on the other side of the large windows surrounding the pool the temperature is 30 degrees below freezing.

Not Quite Boxing Day...

...following our wonderful not-quite Christmas.  

Snow cakes were on the breakfast menu this morning at our "snow-bound" hotel.

Spruced up spruces on the way home.

Bitter cold now, making me not want to sleep out with the wildlife. 'Musher's Secret' waxy salve on Pax's feet, but otherwise the cold seeming to invigorate him—he constantly, and uncharacteristically, tugging at the leash, and when un-leashed, shooting off like a bobsled. We walked (and ran), longer than I wanted but shorter than he did, over a stretch of deserted campus, as the sun was descending, which wasn't that much after lunch.

Tonight, here in Whitewater, we are almost at our light's end, with Daylight only 9 hours long. (Of course, it's worse further north, such as on Manitoulin.) Barometer way up high.

Hang in there, wild ones, life will improve.

Snowbound

In Oconomowoc, after a great Almost Christmas party.  

Too dangerous to drive home.  

Snowball fight.  

Here It Comes

Winter storm warning received and its contents noted.

Eight to eleven inches. High winds. Temps forecast to drop to double digits below zero by Sunday morning. Worries about not having a white Christmas are diminishing. And, on top of that, the Nies family is having its Pre-Christmas Christmas tomorrow evening in Oconomowoc. Could be a four-wheeled drive.

Diner tonight of roasted root vegetables: parsnips, turnips, rutabagas, and carrots. If only we had beets too. Next year most of the garden will be in beets.

Wicked Weather

Painfully cold.  

The score in this game is one below zero to two below zero, and the fans are few.

The barometer is high, but the thermometer is low.

I feel for the letter carriers and other outside workers; and to a lesser extent, for Pax and me. Pax seems to be on hyper-drive when we walk, tugging on the leash, which normally he does not do, and picking up his feet. He seems to want to be quickly somewhere, so that he can be quickly back. I feel sorry for me because I have to take my mitten off in order to operate the ridiculous clip on the end of his leash. Plus my nose gets pinched just breathing.

On top of this, we have another Winter Storm Warning—and things look to be getting worse and worser.