About Me

My photo
Las Vegas, Nevada, United States
"No, really!"

My Favorite Bit of Paper Cup Philosophy

The Way I See It #76

The irony of commitment is that it's deeply liberating - in work, in play, in love. The act frees you from the tyranny of your internal critic, from the fear that likes to dress itself up and parade around as rational hesitation. To commit is to remove your head as the barrier to your life.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Whirlwind - That's Limes NOW

David is on vacation, so Limes is at the wheel. Not "in charge" (that makes me feel uncomfortable, like a skirt with a badge), just taking my turn at the tiller. It is the end of one month and the beginning of another - extra work. The year is half over, which means we just completed the second quarter - extra work. Oh, and did I mention we went 108-degrees Monday? The home dudes were feeling it. Their personalities are different, so they deal with in different ways. But they all had to deal with it. An e-mail from the Badger as I plodded down the stairs into the fiery pit, "107 degrees at 6:00 p.m. does not bode well for my race tomorrow." I paused on stair number 17 to e-mail back "Ditto, except I'm not racing."

None of which is griping, you understand. It's just different from what had felt normal for a little minute. David here, unseasonably cool weather. One morning you get up and things are different. The ebb and flow of everything.

While the Badger races near and far, I've got his birds lodging in at the office with my own pair and I must say that doubling the number of parakeets in one's office increases the noise level exponentially. The phones are jangling now (that's the best work juju) and I have people asking me all day, "Lady, are you with the birds?" "No, the voices in my head are channeling. . . "

Waiku No. 211, An Ode to Birdbrains With a Smile to Express Humor and Affection

Raucous birds, please hush!
Badger, come and collect yours.
I need peace to work.

I've now walked a walk of more than four hours- closer to 5 hours than 4, (only once, but weeks ahead of schedule). The price I paid was one fairly sore day - say 5 on a scale of 1 - 10. I justed wanted to see if I could do it. I did it. Many things happened I didn't expect to have happen. Some things didn't come up that I expected to have to deal with. OK - balance is good.

For a month or more, the Badger has been getting some wonderful shots with that new camera. He said June may be his most prolific month of good pics ever. Coming home from Mother Badger's and his Tortilla Flats race, he had a lot of pretty dull miles to cover. He e-mailed from WickedBurg, grumbling about the constant bottleneck there. I shot one back: "Hey, Badger, you've always wanted to capture that photo op out near Wikiup. Why don't you get the picture today? I'll put it in my blog." BlackBerry reply: "OK!"

I was buying our dinner hours later when my BlackBerry notified me the photo had arrived. Yes, folks, that is Snoopy(ies) and Woodstock taking off on a rocket from Wikiup, AZ. Why? I don't know. I'm not a rocket scientist or a Snoopy scientist. Woodstock is a birdbrain. He doesn't deserve a scientist. Who would we ask? I don't know. There's no one in Wikiup.

Photo credit: J. D. Morehouse

In my ears right now: The Girl With . . . you know what kind of eyes she's got. The CD came and was promptly burned for me. I believe Beast of Burden shall be played next.

Something that charmed me: I asked a man who is sometimes a curmudgeon to interrupt his journey and take a picture of something odd. Badgers are not know to tolerate nonsense. But you're looking at the picture. And, yes, Mother Badger's offerings have been delivered to me . . . all except for the upholstered chair!


  1. I think I would definitely gripe if the temp was over 100 for an extended period of time! Hang in there...vacations will end, mid-year work will get done, birds will go home. But really, this post sounds quite restful after the helicopter incident!!!

  2. Oh and I keep forgetting to tell you...after reading your blog I always leave the computer with the song "What if God was one of us? Just a stranger on the bus trying to make his way home..." running through my head. I once dated a man who hated that song, while I rather liked it. He thought it was blasphemous. We didn't date long.

  3. Good morning - well, we'll be in those kinds of temps through September, now. The truth is, I like a busy pace. I crab about it, but when there is a lull, I'm less comfortable.

  4. Oh, dear. I would not have lasted long with that man, either. He sounds WAY too tightly wound for my taste. One could almost make the argument the other way - it's not blasphemous, it's adoring. After all Joan asks "what if" he was one of us, thereby pointing out that she knows he ISN'T. Yes, the blog is named for that very song.

    By the way, one thing I'd kind of like to blog about is geriatric dating, but I can't quite land there yet. I think each of my stories would offend at least someone. It would be cathartic for me to write about that, but I'll have to decide how sturdy I am.