Another Crex Photo Contest.

The submissions are in, at least from me. I admit to needing help this year, not with the photos per se, but with getting them onto the form to send in via computer. My granddaughter is much more computer literate than I am, and welcomed a visit. No taking 8 x 10 photos over by hand, no writing out information on each one like my name, contact info, title of the shot, location of shot (very restricted area qualifies) and the modest submission price to cover their turning my electric file into an 8x10, mounting all submissions, and printing out voting sheets. In each category anybody who walks into the building can vote in each category for top places, with a final vote for best in show. You have to actually show up for that. It opens the 24th and closes... well, it's written down somewhere here in the house. Or check online.

My skills are fine for moving a thumbnail out of my photo files, onto my desktop, and then onto a standard email or into my blog. I admit it took me a long time to figure out the blog glitch. I needed a hole to drag the thumbnail into, meaning it needed a line of text both before it and after it with a line of space in between. It was by accident of course. Nobody ever explained it. One day it worked, the next months it didn't, but eventually I tired it again and again until I finally figured it out.

Here's my space, created ahead time to go back and plunk a photo into. This photo above I'm calling "Butterfly Magnet" and its category is wildflowers. I could have done it featuring the butterfly instead, but here it is. What else is the point of a flower?

This one goes there too, and is simply called "Blue Wall." It's not that I have high hopes for it, but we are allowed/restricted to two photos per category, and I figure paying for more photos is a way to both have fun submitting, and supporting them from the modest fees for entering. I have been known to email them an occasional photo for permitted use if they like it, unconnected to their contest, just for the fun of what it shows, not for any hope of being in a contest. But that is still the most fun, and the only way to see what others are shooting.

Landscapes are another category, and this particular shot, "April Reflections". is hard to get unless you go there in early spring  after ice is gone but before the trees leaf out and the water between them and shore hasn't filled up with water lilies yet. It's actually the first time I'd gotten there that early in the year. The clouds were just a bonus. Like most details they show much better in reflections when the photo is up to an 8x10 size, what all submissions are printed out in for viewing.

My personal favorite shot for this contest is this one, taken late last September. I'd finally, in all the years going there, figured out where Fish Lake was. I know, it's on their maps, but I just needed to figure out a reason to go there when the lake is mostly hidden in trees with little direct shore access. Most visits already take enough time that I never explored further. Once I finally did, I managed to notice the sign to the boat launch, the only feasible way to actually reach the water. The road ruts there are so deep my little car was bottoming out unless I steered with one side in the high middle and the other on a high side, rather than in the ruts other vehicles had made through the years. There's a strip of land at the end of the road in that's wide enough for a boat to get backed down, though in the times I've visited since finding the spot I've never seen sign of a boat there, nor a trailer bringing one. I managed to walk down avoiding the plentiful poison ivy.

This was just after last year's contest when "night landscapes" was a category. I never had a night shot there, period. I decided I wanted something where I could take advantage of lake reflections and the direction I wanted to shoot in , from west to east, didn't yield close water access along a wide uninterrupted stretch of open water. Maybe a full moon? Finding the boat launch was perfect. So was the calendar. I knew the harvest moon was coming up, though that was  before hearing that technically this was the second full moon in the month so it was officially the Corn Moon, so the harvest moon would be in October. Almost nobody I ever talked with got that message - but not my problem.

I thought my opportunity was spoiled when it rained near the time to leave for the shot. Plus I had a 40 minute drive to get there. But it finally cleared, leaving rainbows locally, and on impulse I decided to head over and see what I could see - or even better, shoot. The storm had moved off to the east, but the clouds were so tall, that while the sun was setting behind me their tops were high enough to catch the sunset colors. I had to wait for the moon to clear the lower clouds, but I arrived just in time to blitz about 20 shots before all the light  was wrong. Nobody else was around who could have gotten a similar shot. It could only happen from that side of a lake, and few opportunities exist in the allowed photo area with a road along the west and enough open water for the reflections.   "Corn Moon Rising After The Storm" should be completely unique. I make a point of that after last year's contest where nearly all the submissions were a night with auroras caught in sky and lake, so similar that when I was voting I couldn't tell enough difference between them to pick a favorite. 

So many years the same bunches of photos come in. There are a lot of breeding trumpeter swans in that area, so water shots often are loaded with those for the bird category. Of course sandhill cranes are a huge draw as well, but the 30,000 acres hold a lot of other birds to shoot in addition. I've done my share of trying all of those. Lots of other people do it better. Sometimes I have to go for unique instead.

This is a trumpeter swan, taken in early April. The day I was there I shot photos of three different swans in this position, one I'd never seen before.  So... try going for unique. Research informed me they were working to regulate their body temperature by sprawling across the water like this. They had just migrated north and ice was recently out, so I could make a case in my head for them either warming or cooling themselves, and spent hours arguing both cases against the other. Mostly they looked exhausted, as still as they were sprawled, only the head barely moving for proof of life. I opted to title this one based on that impression, so this is "Don't Wake Me Till Saturday!"

I had another unique-for-me shot from years back that I spent weeks hunting fruitlessly for after our move back north. I finally gave that one up as a lost cause, along with a huge bunch of Crex photos from previous years, completely within the timescale of shooting allowed. I did however have a set of "nearly as good" shots, if I could ignore lying to myself about how settling for one of those would be OK.

The lost shot was a close-up of an eagle next to the road, peering down intently from its perch on a dead tree spike at what I presume was its intended dinner on the ground. I'm still frustrated that file disappeared. Another time in the same general location I caught this pair up in a dying tree. Both the two perches no longer exist. At some point in the intervening years they have been removed, possibly while doing controlled burns, possibly removed as hazards, especially likely to fall from storms or too much human attention. This "consolation submission" I call "Double Eagles".  (No, I do not golf. If I did I'd be making triple bogies instead of any eagles.) In a different shot taken within minutes of this one it appears that a rudimentary nest had been started on a crotch of the same dying tree. The eagle on the right sits next to it in that shot but was moving its head as the shutter clicked, then turned its back to the camera. That's what you get with wildlife.

One of these days I will have to ask where they are nesting these days. I've been assured some are still within the area. Most years a staffer will happily point out what's special in which location that day, like a wolf den entrance along a road that season, or a drying pond holding a dozen great blue herons scarfing the more easily available fish, or even three stray whooping cranes joining the sandhills before migrating south. This year's greeter isn't quite so forthcoming with information.

I referred above to night landscapes last year. It was a special category that one time. This year the special category is "Animal Families". It has to show both adult(s) and young in the same photo, interacting. I have bunches of those in Canada geese families as well as trumpeter swan families. It's the main reason why I keep going there, of course. I manage the occasional crane with a colt, or even a doe and fawn I entered last year... but I entered that one last year. The shots I selected for that category are pretty much what everybody gets, and most of those much better. But as I've said, much behind these is to support Crex. I go there to shoot pictures when I can, rather than shop in their store. So these are my way to give back.

This turkey family along one of the roads is just two from a string of them, picked not for numbers of birds since I was too close in my car to get a wide angle, but for the best color in the adult. I had fun watching them in small groups scooting into the grasses and popping out again, presumably with a meal. I rarely get this close to wild turkeys, but this one reminds me of a time when I was working and pulled into the dock area of a business only to be attacked by turkeys defending "their" territory. What stuck with me the longest was how blue the head and neck of the meanest one was. At least these were shot with a good zoom lens!  The car managed to keep pace with them for a bit, until they stayed hidden in the grass, but the only title which came to mind was "Turkey Trot".

There are a lot of possibilities for "shooting" Canada geese in open water where the family is gliding along. Sorry, but BORING! I got this family stretched out along the edge of a pond next to the road. This one was my favorite even though it only shows five of the goslings of the seven in another shot. I figured this family was as successful as it was because they were playing "Hide and Seek In The Rushes".
There are a lot of predators both from above and below that find them quite tasty, and later season shots tend to show smaller families.

If any of this gives you a desire to see even better photos in the contest, go visit Crex later this month if you'd like to vote, or all during the coming year since all the submissions are displayed in the visitor center lobby until the next contest. It's on the north side of Grantsburg, WI. That's close to Minnesota on US 70. The town has a nice campground if that's your thing. If you want to get your own shots, maps are available for free of the wildlife areas. Just be polite and drive slowly so as not to raise dust clouds or scare the critters into hiding or flying. Everybody is welcomed, free of charge.

Not Your Ordinary Party

 

Note that this post has been delayed for for over a week. It paused from frustration and my need to de-stress, and paused again for other things I needed to say instead as the days went by.  Some of what is written about, as in present, future or past, is a fubar jumble from where this one will land. You may have already read some  of it in previously published posts.  I don't feel like apologizing or huge rewrites. Read it or don't. I'm kinda busy lately. But weird stuff happens when hours worth of organization don't reach those it's planned for. Murphy must have been on the party planning committee with me.

Steve had planned for his 83rd birthday party for nearly a year, including this time having no cake.  His last two birthdays he'd ordered a nicely decorated one from the local bakery, fishing decorations in both frosting and in edible decorations on the top, like a boat, fisherman, and line, the end of which had always snagged a huge fish, regardless of the actual fisherman's luck. But it's been a hard year for justifying something that expensive. So the plan had simply been to invite family to our home, grill burgers and hot dogs, and hold a nice potluck. He didn't even shy from the idea of everybody singing "Happy Birthday" to him, though both of us are the two known musical tune carriers in his family and find it close to torture to smile through the dissonance some times.

I have discovered that it happens in the families of good friends as well. I'm learning to experience it as a minute of joy, and concentrate on the good wishes expressed. This year the way things turned out, nobody got around to singing anyway. The good wishes were all still there... despite everything else.

With Steve in a rehab facility, we weren't having the party at home. First step was to talk to them and find out if, huge as they are, they had some kind of party room we could hold his party in. Yes, and I got a tour through the maze of halls and turns to a large room with tables and chairs, a small sink, and an adjoining bathroom which was well furnished with grab bars, as well as being large enough for anybody in a wheelchair plus their attendant. I was shown the closest door to it in relation to the parking lot, and another door opening out back to a large grassy area with a large swing up a small hill. One needs a code to go through those doors even in daylight hours since there is no staff overseeing comings and goings like the main entrance has.  I wrote that code down and memorized it. It turns out that after hours - however those are defined - one needs to call staff in order to leave even the main entrance. Of course that code lets you leave without having to call somebody and wait for them to be able to reach you in this fairly distant wing, but nobody explained that fine point to us. Somebody who'd been given the code to get in for the party simply typed it in without asking if it worked and we found out it did, though this was well after cleanup when we were last ones out. We did discover that holding the door open for the last straggler did manage to set off an alarm. As it shut off as soon as the door closed, and nobody had come to check on us during that delay, we just left. Why wait around to make an explanation? Especially when nobody seemed to be bothered.

Part of the "fun" of this facility is the maze. On my second visit I was able to navigate to Steve's room with minimal wrong turns. It took my fourth visit to leave without asking staff's directions. Going from his room to the party room... I'm saving that part for later. At least eventually there were signs so we knew we were heading in the right direction. They just didn't say "Party Room" so people had to pay attention to what they hadn't learned they needed to pay attention to. By the time we all knew they needed more information we just extended the line of people so one could always see somebody familiar ahead of them.

Oy! But I'm getting ahead of myself. Guess I'm not totally de-stressed yet.

As bare-bones as the party room is without a kitchen, and a big part of the menu being grilled burgers and dogs, the first question had to be could we set up a charcoal grill outside the building? Nope! OK, grill at  our place and haul the cooked meat over. Only 4 1/2 miles door to door. So what if they cool a bit? As planning progressed, the family bringing the meat (their present to Steve) wound up with delays in arrival. So the party started almost two hours before the meal was ready.

 The family includes grandchildren from independent adults to elementary school age. Then there are great-grands from preschool to elementary. The youngest needed something other than adult conversation and some food to keep them happy. It's becoming a tradition for Grandma to provide a cardboard playground to keep them busy, then recycle the remaining pieces afterwards, however many loads into the recycle bin it takes. The huge new furnace box has been occupying the living room just waiting for kids. It was finally time.

My very helpful son not only came over with his keyhole saw the night before to cut all kinds of interesting and varied holes in the "tunnel" with different sizes, shapes, and folding spots for hours of creative play. He even vacuumed the carpet afterwards. The cardboard crumbs were more like sawdust! At least they match the color of the carpet, so nobody will know if any got missed. I won't tell!

For the littlest people, the monster furnace box became their playground while they waited. The person with a pickup who could have hauled it over to the party area to a large patch of grass outdoors, or inside if weather required, was tied up at work. An angry customer and cops were involved and we still never have heard the story - but we will ask next time we see him - so the families with the little kids arrived at our house with a box to play in, well before heading over to the rehab center and the official party. At least there were snacks for the wait.

One of the kids had informed his mother a few days earlier that he had plans for destroying the box this time. He's been excellent at doing it in the midst of play during other visits with normal boxes. I assured her that he'd have a difficult time with this box since any box holding a furnace for shipping has be be extra strong. And frankly, any inroads he could make - or all four who used it together - would be helpful to me by saving work in recycling preparation. It turns out that the box still sits on the living room floor as intact as Paul made it after his saw redesigned it. The kids even got up on top of it hoping to squish it flat, and while it bent slightly under the largest one, as soon as she got down it returned to original shape.  Every time I look at it I wonder if there's a daycare in the area that would love to haul it to their location and turn kids loose on it... with a promise of recycling of course. Otherwise it's the saw and a vacuum again. I'm really not interested in keeping it long enough till the next big family event, Thanksgiving. There's not really a place to store it out of the flow of traffic, and right now, on that point, it's good Steve isn't here having to figure out how to avoid it.

(Note that this problem was solved days later by a neighbor. Not the Steve part, the box part. You may have read about it already.)

Steve was in a wheelchair for his mobility getting to the party. He didn't know where it was since I was still figuring it out myself in that maze, and I couldn't push him around the place by myself with my shoulders still having restricted activity even if I weren't tied up at home. So a good friend of his went over early, was directed to his room, and spent time with him while waiting for all the rest of us to show up. I had gotten such great assistance from the weekday staff in locating the party room, checking out the facilities, etc., that I made the huge mistake of thinking that the weekend staff knew what was going on and how to get Steve there. 

I had sent out long emails documenting which main entrance to go in and where from there, passed the code for the doors on to all, and thought that was what was needed. It is totally simple from the parking lot, just go in the door  next to the huge chapel which cannot be mistaken for any other purpose, put in the code, see the room door under a huge clock up near the ceiling as soon as you walk in, and it will be the only large room, off the area,  full of tables and chairs with a bathroom off the corner. Much easier done than described... in theory.

First problem is not everybody read the email. Some ignored it, others had changed their email addresses and nobody told me. Even so, when they showed up at our place, I made sure they heard "door next to the chapel"  and a reminder to use the code for the door, in the same sentence as questioning that they did in fact have the door code.

That means, of course, they all went in the main door by the flagpole instead.  Sigh! That is the front desk, but it's not staffed on weekends. Every bunch of people had to hunt for somebody who knew, first, how to find Steve's room since they at least knew his name, and then find staff who could point them to the party room from there.

Remembering the words "next to the chapel" would have made a huge difference. Instead the staff    directed everybody to a small room with a table and a few chairs that is often used for a group of visitors or even a patient plus staff conference meeting. It's as far away from the party room as is possible to get in that facility. It was also completely packed, no room to move. 

When I arrived in the proper location the party wasn't there! It was my turn to hunt up people, starting with finding staff who knew where our party had been relocated to despite having reserved the large party room. It was, crammed, everyone was hungry with no plates or anything since all that was in my car, with nothing to keep little kids entertained to be found. 

That family left early. There was no communication to the outside because the walls of the building are solid concrete block and cell signals don't penetrate. I'd had to stay behind to make sure the grill cooked all the meat, the coals were quenched, and the house was locked. The rest of the people made the best of it until I arrived.  I finally tracked them down,  then led the way to where it was actually to be held, but only because my son had stayed back assisting in the grilling, had a key to our place to lock up, and sent me on my way about half an hour before the meat finally arrived. I arranged for everybody to parade through the halls carrying what they needed to, snaking around corners to the proper location, occasionally waiting for folks to catch up instead of getting lost a second time, until we arrived in the actual party room.

We have no plans to try that again!

Of course we didn't have plans for how it turned out either, but once we were all together in the right spot we had a good time... mostly. Gifts were opened, tables spread,  stories told. One of the adults who'd been grilling got violently ill, had to leave with his family early and stop at the hospital after somebody insisted it could be appendicitis from all the symptoms. After sitting in the waiting room for three hours, waiting for blood test results that was so delayed the blood coagulated and the staff asked for another sample, he was totally fed up and walked out. So far as we know, he's been fine since, so it must have been something he ate before the party since nobody else was ill.

Steve got to see most of his local extended family including some he married into on my side, except the ones stuck at his job dealing with the cops.  He never made the party. Steve's friend who had arrived at the rehab facility early to keep him company, stuck around long enough to wheel him back to his room afterwards, so he had a  good time all the way through, and his friend did as well. (Or if he didn't, I never heard about it, nor did Steve.)

I've asked for email addresses from those who have changed theirs, as well as asking other family members who did have those newer email addresses, could they please send them off to me for the next party we will be planning or whatever family communications?  Of course nobody has sent me any yet. We'll have to find new problems for the next party we try to throw since we trust nobody will be in that same facility recovering from major surgery again. Since those parties tend to be in snowy months, I figure I don't have to do any work  in arranging problems. The weather will do all the work for us. Even for people who can't/won't read  emails they still know where our house is, so the weather may have to get creative. It would tend to fit in with this year.

I just need to come up with more boxes by then for the wee ones. Please, no more new furnaces needed for box donations!

If you've managed to stick with this post for this long, here's a bonus reward: Steve gets to come home Friday. He's been working hard on his PT, walking with his walker, using their stationary bicycle, getting himself in and out of bed, and finally working on stairs today. The surgical crew stopped by since he couldn't come visit them, pronounced his surgical site to be in good shape yesterday, bandages and stitches now gone. His insurance will allow (pay for) the extra days until Friday. He'll miss the Friday bingo game, but not enough to stay, and after winning three prizes last week, somebody else will get a chance! On top of all that he'll have three weeks of Jeopardy recorded on the TV to watch when he gets here. My reward is not just having him home, but that he didn't ask me to save the weeks of all his cooking shows on the DVR for him to watch to make up  for all that time missed!  What a guy!

Preparing For The Next Storm

The forecasts changed from "not gonna get here" to "it will likely rain" to watching the radar images slide our way. Tornadoes were possible... just not here, at least. Morning news showed damage from elsewhere in the state. But lightning was steady and strong through the system, which I verified for myself from the Real Time Lightning Map which remains bookmarked among all the other reliable weather sites bookmarked on my laptop, up to and including Space Weather.com.

(OK, that last one mostly never affects what happens here but it does indicate interesting things in the sky should we ever get cloud free night skies.  Dream on! It was useful in Arizona though.)

Anyway, I had to get busy before hitting the sack. My son had just been over, despite still having 80-plus degree temperatures and high humidity until sunset, at a level a local TV forecaster refers to as "air you can wear." He was demolishing the rotting porch/stairs combo outside the door facing the street. No, we never liked it, now won't use it, having declared it totally unsafe since the old furnace was removed and the new one installed through that door. He's been putting its replacement together and will be ready to bring segments over for installation as weather permits. The house door was dead-bolted so nobody can use the entrance, and with the old framework now gone there is no temptation to injury in that spot.

There was, however, a huge mess. First, an unexpected pile of last year's dead leaves had managed to find the right winds to slide them through between gaps in the wood and pile up unmolested. Not our leaves, of course, but maple and oak leaves, none of which come from our lot. I had also inspected the area covered by the concrete slab which supported the former porch, visible once the large crap was gone. It was additionally loaded with piles of collected dust and dirt, decorated with abundant, somewhat painted chips and chunks from the former wood so badly maintained by former residents. My son kept mentioning their lack of using proper screws for the construction. Good thing he's a perfectionist! I know we can trust the safety of its replacement. And yes, it will get repainted regularly.

My original plan was to be out bright and early in cool morning air to clean it up. The amended weather forecast pushed that plan forward to after dark but before bed. That turns out to be local mosquito time. I'd turned on the outside light so I could see to clean up properly. They noticed. I'm tasty. Amazingly they were my first mosquito bites of this year, as the steady lake breezes keep them at bay, but my back is busy reacting with a heavy dose of itch. SOMEBODY forgot to buy OFF! this year.

Oops. I'm making a shopping list for later today.

Meanwhile with a broom and dustpan I managed to tightly pack a wastebasket to the brim three times, each load dumped into the garbage bin which goes curbside tonight. No, mea culpa, I didn't take the extra time to treat the mosquitoes to a feast by stopping to bag the stuff. I just hurried to get rid of it all before the rain showed up, though mostly to remove myself from the evening menu. 

Yep, selfish me! Hey, you feed them all you want!

The can goes curbside tonight. With the next round of storms expected later today/tonight, maybe or maybe not here again, there's enough ballast in it to withstand normal storm wind gusts. There was a lot of detritus on that concrete pad which had chipped off over the years. I still think "wood hamburger" is an appropriate reference. It might be heavy enough that I'll ask Paul to wheel it out for me, since I still shouldn't be handling heavy stuff, and my limitations are pretty wimpy with titanium screws holding my shoulders and arms together. I'm officially approved for PT now, and I'm counting last night as part of it!

The storm rolled in on schedule, most of its power spent by then. I'd been watching, both through slightly opened blinds and TV/laptop reports, and clearly clocked one lightning strike one second away. But I'd taken the time to air gap certain electronics, and delayed what would have been a much welcomed shower for my salty/itchy back. I'd always been warned not to be in water, indoors or out, during interesting weather. It didn't pass until 2AM, and my late activity kept me awake through it, coupled with mosquito bites. 

There was one incidental benefit. Since my back stopped me from relaxing enough to sleep in my recliner, and my shoulders won't let me sleep on my bed (I swear that mattress is harder than the one I selected in the store!) I decided to stack pillows on the couch and give that a try. Almost instant zonk!

At least I slept till 7:30. After morning duties, I opened the front door to see what might have been left on the concrete pad. No wood chips or chinks, no hardware. Whatever the dust had been composed of, the storm arranged it into piles of small black pebbles. Weird! After breakfast I'll head out and clear it off, checking what it might be and hoping it isn't cemented together. But maybe a nap first, eh? Or at least, coffee for sure.

Fifth Of July

The little fireworks as always started days ahead of the official celebration on the 4th. As somebody with a series of small dogs over the years who reacted badly to the loud noises,  it never was the most pleasant of times. Now with no pets other than a "few well-behaved houseplants" I'd hoped for something more peaceful, the way last year was.

Fine, call me a fool!

Mother Nature started it off with a thunderstorm, which defied the reputation of storms in this area  for going around in every other direction by hitting us directly this time in mid-late afternoon, bringing both noise and lots of rain with it. Luckily we didn't lose power, though lots of places in the state did, per this morning's news. I'd had warning of possible weather, and headed out to relocate a couple plants which needed a deeper location before it all arrived so they'd get well settled without my needing to drag out the hose, but just emptying a rain bucket instead over their new location. It had the added benefit of not giving mosquitoes a chance to hatch out in its wet bottom. I'll dump it again this afternoon.

I'll also head out to check our rain gauge. I wasn't in the mood at the time, since once the storm stopped making booms the neighbors began. It had been happening in small bits for days, as it does every year in the general area. It's a great time to stay indoors even without disturbed pets. Too many stupid, careless people setting them off. While our state has fairly strict laws on personal fireworks, it's a very short hop across the border into Wisconsin which has much more liberal laws and doesn't bother to check which side of the border they'd be lit in. Apparently inflation and gas prices didn't make an impact this summer for the personal budgets set aside for noise and light shows.

In the decades I've lived  - or at least summered - in the general area I've seldom noticed parents supervising kids in setting them off, nor policing their trash afterwards. (Your fireworks from the middle of the street or your backyard bonfire land in the neighbors yard? Not your problem!) I'd hoped that being in a seniors area, we could escape all that. (When living in Sun City, the sheer size of that senior community meant we escaped local fireworks and kid events like trick-or-treating. Oh horrors, the penalty of eating your own bowl of candy!)  Normally we could, but too many people acquired the big boomers this year. From where the sounds originated, every person living on any of the lakes in the area had their own hour's worth of illegal ones to set off out over their own piece of lakeshore. If I had drones and energy I'd be curious how many fish are floating on the lakes' surfaces as a result. I had visions of Crocodile Dundee fishing with dynamite sticks in one of his movies.

Am I overreacting? This cluster of communities doesn't normally set off their own shows. One has to drive  a dozen miles to large central displays, find parking, bring your own blanket or folding chairs, bug spray, and beverages , settle in on the beach and watch the show, stick around afterwards to let the drunks have a chance to get off the roads before you go on them. It loses its charm. Our town has its own fireworks at a different annual celebration a week or two later, and one can look down our street and see the high ones over the tops of the trees. Just sit or stand on the front porch for a few minutes or as long as you want. You can still get all the noise you want - and then some - over about 20 minutes. No long drives, all the amenities of home without the lines and inconvenience.

Last night the noise started early. Typical formal displays start at ten, when it's dark enough to see them all clearly. For neighborhood displays though,  many people not only neglect safety, they don't care what you wanted to listen to or when, or how terrified your pets are. Last night once the rain stopped, the man-made booms began, everything from little pops to industrial-level BOOMS! I could have sworn I was living in the middle of 18 different towns, not 500 scattered pyrotechnic neighbors. Not only did it start days ahead on the small home scale, once it started last night it simply didn't stop. 

I told myself things would simmer down around eleven, the way it does every other year. There were times it was so loud and incessant I stuck my head out to see if despite lack of announcements our town was in fact setting them off nearby, or the next one over in any direction. Nope, dark. So local yokels with big pocketbooks and a need to out-compete the world. Got it.

I tried to sleep after that, already past my usual time. I figured it had to stop soon, right? An hour's worth is good enough for everybody, right? Two hours later it hadn't slowed. And yes, the huge boomers were still going off. Would anybody have noticed if somebody shot their domestic partner? Or had a drive-by shooting? Ignore it folks, just another firecracker, enjoy! 

But did they all have to keep going until 2AM on the 5th?  Seriously?

It's such an "interesting" combination of being wired and sleep deprived. I'm having my morning mug of coffee. At this point it ought to relax me enough to get some decent sleep. OK, maybe an hour nap. Perhaps by midnight.

Third Life... And Counting

Another problem fixed!

I was sorting laundry, checking pockets and so forth, in the front area of our home this morning. Suddenly I heard the giggles, the kind only happy children under a certain age can produce. A quick peek out the window showed their source, a neighbor diagonally across the street. Or more accurately, a couple of their granddaughters. I presumed a holiday weekend visit, enjoying early morning mild weather on their large covered porch without threat of imminent rain for a change.

Laundry could wait! I headed out for a chat with the family, describing the box, its former uses for furnace and kids' playground/tunnel, its designation for recycling eventually, and my hopes for more children to have some fun without any financing needed on the part of their families, my lack of a car large enough to relocate it in its current state. The children turned out to be granddaughters, the littlest one walking well and giggling better, the older one either about to enter or just leaving kindergarten.

Perfect!

Grandpa was volunteered by the family to head over and take the box back to their home to get acquainted with its second wannabe demolition squad. All adults agreed its ultimate home would be recycling, in much smaller pieces. I did point out an overlooked sticky tag still attached, much as I'd tried to remove all of them, visible once the box was angled for heading out our door, over the porch railing, out over the grass between gardens, across the street, and... gone to another happy home.

Wow! The living room is really that big again? How did I forget... Oh wait. 

Now I have no excuse to put off getting my printer up and running again, now that I can actually see it and reach it. I have the replacement toner cartridge, but sadly am down to two pieces of suitable paper. I see a stop on my way home from my shoulder surgeon later today. Then a bit of an assist with the cartridge swap from my son on his next visit, and another thing fixed.

Fair Swap

I'm doing a fairly good of of shoulder #2  healing, despite  certain uses still making it ache. I'm way down on tylenol most days, or even off if it's been an easy day. Of course with ferrying things for Steve back and forth it has become a useful part of my pill regimen again. Tomorrow is supposed to be my final appointment with my surgeon, where he puts in orders for my PT to start. But well as it's doing, there are still things I can't/won't accomplish.

I realized with the driving all around I've been doing lately that I likely needed oil in the car, or at least to get it checked. I keep one spare bottle in the back just for top-ups. The problem is that these days I can't  open the hood. Besides, somehow every time I buy another vice grip needed to open the cap after the mechanics have finished with the oil, the next time I go to find one, it's managed to "walk away".  

Mind you, I'm not pointing any fingers. I don't have any suspects like we did in Arizona when beads I know I dropped got lost forever, I could blame the cockroaches there for coming out to play soccer with them while we were sleeping. Not only do we never see cockroaches here the way we did there, but I simply cannot imagine them even as a troupe towing away a vice grip. Not claiming here I know everything about them, but just saying they're unlikely to be responsible.

The point is I still can no longer do some things I'd do regularly a couple years back.

It occurred to me this morning, in the middle of errands with several more coming up in the next few days  before the holiday that I likely needed to top up the oil before putting a bunch of miles on the car. With no time for an oil change and no likely openings for what requires an appointment these days to even get one in the shortened week, I'd better go for plan B,

I drove the few miles to my son's house after supper, asked him to please open the hood, check the levels, and put the last full can in before letting me know how low I might still be. I still needed a bit more, so there was a drive to pick up more than I needed just then to top it, in order to have some for next time. 

In exchange, I did one of the things I still can do with a single shoulder in good shape, pull weeds out of his garden. It's a job he'd prefer to ignore, but he happens to have a large section of already tall ones which I know from years of experience are easily persuaded to release their grip on the soil... most of the time. Parts of his garden are now emerging into view.  I left him a couple nice piles of them before I drove off the final time for both of us to do whatever for ourselves in what remained of the evening in our own homes. 

Steve as expected is still in the rehab facility, recovering from the day's strenuous PT and OT, perhaps with energy left to read a few pages in one of the several books he asked me to bring, or possibly to look for any watchable TV leading up to a holiday weekend. He was really tired and in pain as I'd left earlier, working as hard as he is to get himself out of there and home again. Yesterday was easier on him, leaving him time to join the blackjack table, where all play for fun, not money. I don't think he's played more than a couple times since he retired as a dealer. 

At least today when he wasn't up for much of anything, one of the staff handed him an alternate menu where he can order ala carte foods instead of the same three meals every day. He was saying something about a BLT when I left after dropping off his laptop earlier. He was happy for the change, but we both knew he'd really have preferred BATs, where instead of lettuce there is fresh mashed avocado, not just tastier but providing the occasional shocked reaction to the uninitiated along with a chance to let them know what they've been missing in their sandwiches all their lives. Hey, some days fun is where you can make it.

Quiet House

Steve went from hospital to a rehab facility. We're hopeful that he will improve as quickly as possible so he can return home and function here. It was no kindness in sending him home where within just hours he was a prisoner to wherever he happened to be. I tried to do what I could, but with a healing shoulder I still carry the reminders that it was a bad idea for both of us. I'm thinking it's a good thing that I only needed to go back on Tylenol, but damn! I'd been totally off all painkillers for a few entire days!

I'm here and he's almost 5 miles away. I'm used to him calling out, once I start moving in the morning, asking if I'm up. It's not a redundant question, in case you think hearing something means I'm awake for the day. It really means am I planning to be awake for a while? Or was this just one of those wee hours pit stops with a return to bed planned? It doesn't always mean he wishes to come join me if I plan to be up for a while. He might be busy with his laptop in his room, or reading a really good book. It's a reminder that he cares. I miss hearing it.

There's the sound of his walker as he emerges from his room. It has four wheels, not two wheels plus two legs with tennis balls. It makes its own special noise as he uses it, which changes as he goes from carpet to hard kitchen flooring and back to carpet, so I can always tell his progress. I miss hearing that too.

There's the noise of his favorite TV shows, mostly a wide variety of cooking contests, but it includes every Jeopardy episode, and  when he's in the mood, bass fishing tournaments. It will include certain Olympic events when it's the season, with a special fondness for figure skating any time and anywhere those are held including the four years  leading up to the big event. There is always a pause button one of us uses so we can read the name of the music the skaters will be using, and often is the only classical music we hear for long periods. I can hear that alone in the car too, with a good MPR station, but we enjoy doing it together while watching skaters. The car is more a time for talking and observing.  I miss those times as well.

There's the reminder as I leave the house to drive anywhere to drive safe, watch out for all the idiots and the Minnesota attack deer. He could shorten it to "I love you" but that says it perfectly well.

He listens to my telling him how the garden is doing, sharing family news either of us has to share, even rehashing old memories together. Shortly I'll get dressed to be out in public, drive over to the facility he's in, share progress reports. His will be about the food, the PT, perhaps a particularly helpful staff member, or  just how bad the pain is -  at the moment or for the last hours. I'll probably stay an hour because I'm also busy planning the details of the birthday party that's being moved to where he is instead of here in the house. There's still cleaning and shopping to be done, from ordinary messes to checking to be sure medications are up out of the reach of the great-grands who will come early to the house to play in the monster box before we head to the party. One already is telling his mom about his plans to demolish the box, which is fine, though I hope to persuade him that his siblings should get a chance to play in it for a while with him first. The house won't be quiet for an hour or two then, and it will be wonderful, even if they are squabbling. Their parents can deal with that quite well. I have already remembered to tape a certain display cabinet door shut, since the youngest is fascinated by its contents and will open it any chance he gets, in the firm belief that whatever he can see is his to touch. If he's still fascinated in a few years, we can have a supervised "explore" of things like southwest pottery storytellers. I can certainly understand the appeal, especially when so many of the artists were so creative, using animals, or even corn people.

Until then there will be the sounds of dishes getting washed - by hand since Steve is the one who loves the dishwasher - and likely occasional vocalizations over the amount of food grease and "stickeys" on the stove and counters because the person who loves to cook in this house doesn't get a dishpan of soapy water in the sink with a dishrag to wipe the counters clean. It won't be a quiet house then. It just won't be his noises filling empty spaces, not for a while. It will be me grumping, but at least knowing those spaces will stay clean because for at least a short time nobody will be frying bacon in a pan without a lid at high temperatures. OK, sometimes a lid, lately, but baby steps.

I'm not altogether sure I miss that particular sound. But his happy noises while he cooks and eats the cause of those messes....

You guessed it. I love and miss those too. It's so quiet here I might have to start singing again. I haven't done that for years, so I'm sure he wouldn't miss hearing any of the warm-up attempts Yikes!