low_delta

This week has been a mess. Work is super busy. I have a couple of big projects coming due at the same time. It's stressful not only trying to meet these deadlines, but having to work overtime. Six hours this week and seven last week. That doesn't sound like much, but it's killing this old man.

Last night I was so tired I went to be early, before midnight. I felt myself drifting off, but then I drifted back. got up and read for a while, and went back to bed at 2:00. Ended up getting just over five hours of sleep. Tonight I was falling asleep while reading, so I went to bed just a few minutes before midnight. Was wide awake by the time I got to bed.

I need to go to Chicago and pick up whisky for our tasting. I was going to do it Wednesday night, but had to work late. So I made plans for Saturday, but was reminded I have a D&D game that afternoon. Decided on Friday night, but probably shouldn't drive there on so little sleep. That leaves Sunday afternoon.

Saturday night we went to Milwaukee to see the Milwaukee Police Band. Kind of an orchestra pops concert thing. It's the oldest police band in the country, since 1898. Cindy's friends were officers and are heavily involved in the band. Karen joined the band over 40 years ago, and has been the director for more than 25. The concert was free, and at the Pabst Theater on a Saturday night, so they must have some funding.

I honestly didn't want to go, since that sort of thing doesn't interest me much, and I felt like I had more important things to do, but Cindy wanted to support her friends. The band did medleys of songs by Journey, Meat Loaf, Billy Joel and The Beatles. Let me tell you, as a huge fan of rock music, there are few bands Cindy likes less than Journey and Meat Loaf. After the intermission, they did three tunes as a jazz ensemble. This was more my thing, and I really liked the first one in particular. Too bad the two women behind me were chattering and laughing loudly.

The show was free and we had free parking, three blocks away at my office. It was 20°F, which doesn't seem like it should be very cold, but it was cold!

I have a travel cup at work, for water. It's a tall insulated stainless steel cup with a clear plastic top. This morning I got water, but when I tried to drink from it, no water came out. I figured the the mouth was closed, so despite thinking that this was highly unlikely, I went to slide the cover back from the little hole. It was already open! So I tried again. No water came out at first, but then it suddenly poured through and splashed down my front.

WTF #1: How did this happen? A bubble of air blocked the opening? I can't picture it.
WTF #2: This has never happened before.
WTF #3: When it did happen, it happened in a meeting.


After work, I walked over to the Public Market to meet a friend for dinner. I walked up to a corner as a bus pulled away. There was a guy there whom I was sure was going to ask me for money. He did, saying the bus left him behind because he didn't have any change. I was pretty sure I didn't have any small bills in my wallet, but I always carry coins in my coat pocket. I reached in and pulled out... a dime, two nickels and four pennies. I just looked at it trying to figure out what to say to the guy, like this isn't much, do you want it? He said, "God's gonna reach down for you," like I was going to get smited. I put the change back in my pocket and he reiterated something similar. So I got to stand there with him, waiting for the light. He walked back to his stuff by a light post and said something about what Jesus thought of me.

Tuesday morning it was -2°F, so I went to the lake at sunrise. It had been not only very cold but windy, so I expected some great ice formations on the beach. I started at my usual spot on the bluff, but from what I could see below me, the ice was not that great. I guess because the wind was coming from the west, and not blowing toward the shore. And I was getting cold. I realized once I was out there, that I was short a layer. So I went home.

This morning it was -15°. I did not leave the house.

We were underway early, yesterday. We loaded the car with artwork and were out by 10 am. We went down to the Ronald McDonald House, to install our latest exhibition of members' work. It took a little longer than usual, but we got it done and went downtown for lunch.

The snow falling was pretty, but the wind was biting cold. We walked over to a gallery where a friend was giving a gallery talk at her opening. Then we drove to a friend's for a party, stopping on the way to pick up our offerings.

Doug and Susan were having a hygge party.

Hard to pronounce, hygge ("hooga", H(Y)OO-gə ) is difficult to explain, too. In brief, hygge is about taking time away from the daily rush to be together with people you care about - or even by yourself - to relax and enjoy life's quieter pleasures.

Hygge is often about informal time together with family or close friends. Typically, the setting is at home or another quiet location, or perhaps a picnic during the summer months. It usually involves sharing a meal and wine or beer, or hot chocolate and a bowl of candy if children are included. There is no agenda. You celebrate the small joys of life, or maybe discuss deeper topics. It is an opportunity to unwind and take things slow.

There was a full house, which seems to go against the idea of hygge. I didn't know many people there. Had conversations with a few. It was nice, though not too exciting. Doug had a fire going outside, and kept trying to get people to go out there. Finally, he said he was going out there, and I decided that since we were getting out coats on to leave anyway, we might as well join him for a while. It was not that great. It was cold out, and I pretty much had to stand up against the fire to be warmed (on only one side of me), and the smoke rose straight into my eyes. And of course we were suffused with smoke. That didn't bother me much, but Cindy hated it. But then a few people started sledding down the hill. Cindy joined them for one run. I'm not winter averse, but nothing about that appealed to me.

It ended up being a long day. I was v. tired, yawning all the way home.

I thought I had written this story out before, but if I did it wasn't tagged.

When my dad was eighteen, his sister and her husband took a trip out west from Indiana. They were visiting someone on a ranch in Montana, and they guy said to my dad, "too bad you're not staying. We'd give you a job!" My dad didn't say anything, he just went out to the car and came back in with his suitcase. So the guy had to give him a job. He said "go down to the basement, pick out some tools and tell them your a carpenter."

I've heard this story quite a few times, along with his exploits there. But last night he said that he was staying with a family, and they charged him a dollar a day. That, and he needed to help with the dishes, and do all the ironing. He was apparently paid in silver dollars. This was about 1962, and a lot of the coins were very old - Morgan and walking liberty dollars from the 1800s. Most people didn't like the silver dollars because they were heavy and wore out their pockets, but he didn't care so much. He ended up taking the train back home, and it cost him thirty dollars. In the station, he put every coin on the counter, making sure that everyone in the place could hear the coin clink.

EDIT

This is about his second summer going to the ranch...

He went to the ranch again, but it had rained for 30 days straight, and there was no work. Their veteran ranch hands were out of work, so they couldn't take him on. They said he should try for work out in Washington (he was from Indiana), so he went out there. Unfortunately, Boeing had just laid off a bunch of people, so any available jobs went to them - people with families. He applied for jobs at about 300 places. He finally went to Cincinnati (about 50 miles from home), and was hired at the first place he applied.

What did he say about that ranch... it was so big the north and south parts each had their own air strips. They had about 300 breeding mares, just to keep the ranch in horses.

Today was Christmas with my dad and stepmom. My sister hosted, and my niece and her boyfriend made dinner. An Italian thing with homemade pasta and sauce. Also focaccia, mozzarella/tomato/basil, and tiramisu. Very good.

My mom called to say our Christmas cookies were ready, so I went over to pick them up. What kinds are there? Yes. Peanut butter balls, peanut brittle, pecan crescents, some things with lemon frosting, some amaretto somethingsorother, some with pistachio and chocolate frosting, caramels, fudge, gingersnaps, chocolatey somethings with m&m's, and a few nondescript cookies with frosting or chocolate.



When I was there eleven days ago, she was baking cookies for church. Some cookie auction or something. She hadn't started on her own cookies yet. She got those all done last night, so tonight she was packaging them for delivery. This is only a fraction of the plates she puts together. There are fourteen buckets on the table, but I'm not sure if that's all of the different kinds she made.

She gave Cindy and I each one, though mine has only peanut butter balls and pecan crescents. She named off all the neighbors she gives to. She said she was once talking to her financial guy who mentioned Christmas cookies, so she decided to take him a plate. And she still takes them to that place, even though he doesn't work there anymore. And she'll take a plate to Dan's dad (I have no idea who Dan is), but he has bad teeth so she's worried that some will be too hard for him. Of course she'll tell Dan to tell his dad that he can soften them up by putting them in the microwave (she can hardly give you food without also giving that advice). I don't know who else. She's got to have friends to give them to. And a coworker or two. My sister, and her two kids.

And Mom wonders how much money she spends on this. She used four to five pounds of butter, but she had to tell me how cheap butter is at Costco.

Last night Cindy was making supper, baking some chicken. She walked into the kitchen to see smoke. It was coming out of the vent on the stove top. She opened the oven door and a cloud rolled out. But wasn't the smoke of burnt food. There was a glow coming out from under the bottom panel of the oven, and sometimes sparks. The heating element had fried itself.

We had to finish the chicken under the broiler, periodically turning it off and back on. It turned out a little well done, but not bad.

Today I took it apart to get at the element. I unplugged the thing, then removed the back panel. I pulled the connectors off the element. Then I took out the panel on the floor of the oven, and removed the two screws that were holding the element in place. Then I placed an order for a new one. $50, plus $12 for shipping, will arrive on Wednesday.



( But then it got worse )

I published this on Substack last weekend. You've seen the photos already, so I won't repost them, but if you wanted to read it with the photos, here's the link.

Winter is here, finally

Don’t get me wrong, I like Autumn. I like all the seasons, really. It’s the in-between seasons that I’m not a fan of. I suppose these days they’d call those the liminal seasons, as if I needed another reason to dislike that term…

But late Autumn is a problem. It’s all brown and grey, and mostly frozen. This weather was mercifully short this year, so I’m trying not to complain, but I was feeling a little bleak - my photography had dried up. I hadn’t shot anything new in a while, and everything I had done had been shared. I organized all my folders of images, and my “To share” folder was empty. That made it very clear I had nothing going on.

I would have been going to the lake, at least, to get a shot every few days, but the park was closed for deer hunting for nine days. So that was no fun.

But the weather weighed on me too. It feels like a sort of Seasonal Affective Disorder. But it’s not about the light, exactly, or even the cold, it’s about doing. Or not doing. And I wasn’t shooting.

But then it snowed! Snow is my favorite thing about winter. I don’t even take advantage of it like I used to. When I was a kid I would play all day in it, and when I was older I enjoyed cross-country skiing. Now I just like the feel of having it.

It’s so much nicer than drab frozen ground. And of course it makes for good images.

It started last Saturday morning. It didn’t come down very fast, but there was no wind so it all came straight down and settled on everything. It was so nice! I went out in the yard with my camera, and immediately felt better.

They predicted eight inches (on the low end), and I figured there would be less. By midnight we had less than four. But then it picked up and I was surprised to see around ten inches (25cm) on the ground in the morning. It was very heavy and weighed the trees down (and knocked out our power for a while).

But the snow covered everything and the sun was out. So beautiful!

Fortunately I got to spend a lot of time outdoors on Sunday. Unfortunately, most of it was spent shoveling, but that’s the price I have to pay, I guess.

Maybe part of my SAD is not seeing the sun. But it’s not just a problem with long nights and short days, it’s the cloudy days too. Because I really love it when the snow multiplies the sunlight.

Winter is the time for introspection, I guess…