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| Fruit Salad by Sam |
Saturday, June 30, 2018
Friday, June 29, 2018
Trailing Off
On our usual routine, we walk to a point where the path comes to a road. We've always turned here and headed back on another leg (of the trail, that is).
But across this street and over a little bit (and out of view), the trail picks up and there is a much longer portion which apparently goes on for a couple of more miles. This week, we walked a small part it.
The overall length of the trail is just under four miles, but Sam and I only had about two miles worth of walking in us. We ran out of energy before we ran out of trail so we headed back to the car.
The portion we saw was lovely and maybe someday I'll post more pictures of it - but I don't think it will be any time soon. For the next few days, the temperatures are supposed to be in the upper nineties. We'll be laying low and trying, at least, to stay cool.
Monday, June 25, 2018
Sorry for the Delay...
At one end of my dining room table, I have a growing stack of papers, currently about three inches tall. This pile is made up of all manner of forms and bills and receipts - all gathered over the last three or so months. All of this, of course, has to do with Sam and my blindly stumbling through the ongoing SSI process (also known as, "my life").
I continue to accumulate all of this stuff because I don’t know for sure all of what I’m supposed to be claiming - and worse, I don’t understand how I’m supposed to be recording all of this. What qualifies? How do I record this stuff? Beats me.
The few times I’ve been able to ask someone if I’m going about this the right way, I get a response along the lines of, “I think that’s ok.” This is not the kind of response that instills me with confidence.
But things are looking up. The other day, I got a form from SSI which, as Sam’s representative, I have to fill out. In some ways, this is almost a relief. The fact that this showed up right now tells me that I need to be tracking (or, attempting to track) his expenses by the fiscal year, as opposed to the calendar year. It also gives me some broad categories that I can begin dividing my pile into - thus making several smaller piles. This, at least, is progress.
Among other things, I need to declare that I’m spending money in Sam’s best interest. I don’t have any problem with this. What I do have a problem with is determining whether or not I am spending the money correctly.
I need to give dollar breakouts for different categories. Some things, like food, housing and clothing are easy enough to figure out - especially when you have a three inch pile of receipts to back it up. Other things though, are a little vague to me - especially something called, “Personal Comfort Items”. I’ve tried looking up the definition of "Personal Comfort Items" several times and other than finding a few, very specific examples, any information I've come across is either extremely vague or it conflicts with something else (surprise!).
The entire time I've been dealing with this, a scene from an old movie keeps playing out in my head...
The lost and clueless explorer makes his way slowly through the jungle. "Which way?" he wonders. "Which way?"
With each tentative step, something unseen moves quickly through the nearby brush.
He stops - and the rustling stops.
Standing as still as possible, he contemplates his next move - and he listens.
Nothing. Nothing but the sound of his heart, pounding in his chest.
He takes another step - and the rustling begins again.
Somewhere, off in the distance, a monkey screams.
Step by agonizing step, he makes his way deeper and deeper beneath the increasingly dark canopy.
Up ahead, unseen through the dense fauna, scattered leaves cover the ground - leaves which conceal a pit below.
Inside the pit is …what? Poison tipped sticks? Snakes? Or… something worse.
That’s pretty much what this is like. Except, my pit isn’t covered with leaves. It’s covered with forms and receipts.
And, the monkeys - there's no screaming monkeys. Yet.
Sunday, June 17, 2018
A Quiet Day
A very quiet Father's Day today. Nothing much to say about it, but I'll end it, as always, with this...
Friday, June 15, 2018
A Follow-up
A while back, I wrote an extremely long series of posts (here, here, and here) which ultimately led up to this photograph. Even with all that I said, there were a couple of things I wanted to add. One of these things is something I never realized until I was writing the post. The other though, is something I think about quite often.
Back when I was writing about the photo, I was working out the timeline and thinking about everything that led up to when it was taken. As I was working through it all, I slowly began to realize that the photo was taken less than a month after Sam’s prolonged hospital stay. I was shocked by this - to the point where I had to go back a few more times, just to be sure.
When I think back on the period of time, I remember it as if everything else in the world had been frozen in time, that nothing else was happening. I had forgotten that other things were still going on and that life was moving forward.
But, that's just one thing.
Almost exactly a year before this photo was taken, I had a phone conversation with Dad. He and Mom were leaving the next day for a short vacation and before he left, he called me to touch base.
The conversation was nothing out of the ordinary, but one of the things he asked me about was what my plans were for my car. I told him about my Master Plan (buried somewhere in part three) and he just laughed. We talked about it a little bit more, he wished me luck, and that was it.
I figured I would let Dad know how I made out when he got back from his trip. But of course, that never happened. Dad died the night before he was to head back home and I never saw or spoke to him again.
Through all of the years since, I've thought about this a lot.
I think about how it was just a normal, everyday conversation - nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary - but it just happened to be our last.
And I often think about this when it comes to someone I love. What words, what feelings will I leaving them with, at the end of some random, some normal, some everyday conversation?
Thursday, June 14, 2018
Nancy, Revisited
Back here, I wrote a little bit about the comic strip, Nancy. I have a lot of affection for this strip, at least as it was originally drawn. Part of this is due to the strip itself, but part of it is due, like so many things (for me), to nostalgia.
Other than a few recent times before that post, I hadn't read the strip since I was a kid. But as I mentioned in the post, I had a conversation with Rachael, and later, she gave me some old Nancy comic books for Christmas. Those comics sparked my interest once again, and in turn, it led me to buy some books of reprinted newspaper strips from the original run (published by Fantagraphics). Beyond that though, reading the strip is nothing that I particularly pursue.
Still, if I happen to come across an old strip, I read it and I enjoy it - and I continue to look upon the strip with fondness. It's feels a little like visiting my old home town and finding that things had stayed pretty much as I had remembered. At least, that’s the way it is for me when I read a strip from that early era.
When the creator of the strip passed away, it's my understanding that it was taken over by someone who continued on with the same look and feel of the original run. I'm not sure how long that went on for, but I know that in more recent years, the strip was produced by a couple of different artists. And while theirs may have been perfectly fine strips, their styles were different enough from the original that the few times I stumbled across them, they held no interest for me.
I bring all of this up because the other day, an article about Nancy came up in my news feed. If you don’t bother to read the article (but you should), the gist of it is that recently, another new artist has taken over the strip - and as expected, some people aren’t happy about it. More surprising to me though, is that some people are.
Along with enjoying the article, I also enjoyed the reader comments (400 of them, at the time of this posting). I often avoid reading the comments because too many times the "discussion" seems to devolve into people hurling insults at each other. I don't necessarily have a problem with this, as long as someone's being a bit clever about it - and as long as they happen to agree with my point of view - but if they're just being nasty for the sake of being nasty, I'm not interested. For the most part, I found these comments to be pretty entertaining.
Anyway, I've read a few of the new strips and I've enjoyed most of what I've seen. In this case, the old home town may have changed a bit, but there's enough there that it still has much of it's original charm. And for me, at least, that makes it worth revisiting.
Other than a few recent times before that post, I hadn't read the strip since I was a kid. But as I mentioned in the post, I had a conversation with Rachael, and later, she gave me some old Nancy comic books for Christmas. Those comics sparked my interest once again, and in turn, it led me to buy some books of reprinted newspaper strips from the original run (published by Fantagraphics). Beyond that though, reading the strip is nothing that I particularly pursue.
Still, if I happen to come across an old strip, I read it and I enjoy it - and I continue to look upon the strip with fondness. It's feels a little like visiting my old home town and finding that things had stayed pretty much as I had remembered. At least, that’s the way it is for me when I read a strip from that early era.
When the creator of the strip passed away, it's my understanding that it was taken over by someone who continued on with the same look and feel of the original run. I'm not sure how long that went on for, but I know that in more recent years, the strip was produced by a couple of different artists. And while theirs may have been perfectly fine strips, their styles were different enough from the original that the few times I stumbled across them, they held no interest for me.
I bring all of this up because the other day, an article about Nancy came up in my news feed. If you don’t bother to read the article (but you should), the gist of it is that recently, another new artist has taken over the strip - and as expected, some people aren’t happy about it. More surprising to me though, is that some people are.
Along with enjoying the article, I also enjoyed the reader comments (400 of them, at the time of this posting). I often avoid reading the comments because too many times the "discussion" seems to devolve into people hurling insults at each other. I don't necessarily have a problem with this, as long as someone's being a bit clever about it - and as long as they happen to agree with my point of view - but if they're just being nasty for the sake of being nasty, I'm not interested. For the most part, I found these comments to be pretty entertaining.
Anyway, I've read a few of the new strips and I've enjoyed most of what I've seen. In this case, the old home town may have changed a bit, but there's enough there that it still has much of it's original charm. And for me, at least, that makes it worth revisiting.
Wednesday, June 13, 2018
Tuesday, June 12, 2018
Spotted on Last Night's Walk
I have no idea what this is about. As you can see, there's no sign on any of these chairs saying, "Free," - so, I'm ruling out the possibility of it being left over from a weekend tag sale.
Since this is on a relatively quiet side street, I think it's unlikely that it had anything to do with a parade.
The only possibility I can come up with is that these people did this so they could sit there all day, staring across the street (most likely while listening to loud music and drinking many beers) - all to piss off the neighbor on the other side.
If this is true, I admire their dedication.
Friday, June 8, 2018
Late Update
One of the things we did on Rachael's brief trip home, was to ride over to the College (sans Sam) to check on the turtle egg status. As I had feared (but had hoped otherwise,) the fanatics had mowed the lawn - right over the filled-in hole (and everywhere else.) So much for "the wide berth."
The filled-in hole was undisturbed but the stick, which I had left to mark the spot, was shattered (much like my hopes.)
Rachael and I talked about what to do. She ringed the filled-in hole with small rocks and we debated about some kind of a sign - an idea I wasn't comfortable with. (Sometimes these kinds of things attract the wrong kind of attention.) We wanted to protect these things, but how?
Ultimately, Rachael made another attempt at communicating with the shed-sitting, card-playing grounds crew and when that blatantly didn't work, she went into the College. In her best faux-student mode (however unintentional,) she made the rounds, starting from the Administration Office, going all the way to the Science Department.
From the sounds of it, more than one person was a turtle fan - and at least one person was not a fan of the grounds crew - having been familiar with the scenario of the chilly reception received upon interruption of the all-important card playing. Everyone, it seems, was interested.
How well did all of this work? We will see. We will see.
The filled-in hole was undisturbed but the stick, which I had left to mark the spot, was shattered (much like my hopes.)
Rachael and I talked about what to do. She ringed the filled-in hole with small rocks and we debated about some kind of a sign - an idea I wasn't comfortable with. (Sometimes these kinds of things attract the wrong kind of attention.) We wanted to protect these things, but how?
Ultimately, Rachael made another attempt at communicating with the shed-sitting, card-playing grounds crew and when that blatantly didn't work, she went into the College. In her best faux-student mode (however unintentional,) she made the rounds, starting from the Administration Office, going all the way to the Science Department.
From the sounds of it, more than one person was a turtle fan - and at least one person was not a fan of the grounds crew - having been familiar with the scenario of the chilly reception received upon interruption of the all-important card playing. Everyone, it seems, was interested.
How well did all of this work? We will see. We will see.
Thursday, June 7, 2018
Pretty Flowers
Well, after a whirlwind visit from Rachael (who is now back in the Big City) and with Helaina driving cross country, and Jake being out of state, currently car-less, there's not a lot happening on the non-paperwork front (other than me fighting my usual depression due to the aforementioned reasons.)
With that in mind, here are a few photos which were taken on some of Sam and my recent walks. Yes, a couple of these are from my front yard but technically these count as well since we pass these on our way.
With that in mind, here are a few photos which were taken on some of Sam and my recent walks. Yes, a couple of these are from my front yard but technically these count as well since we pass these on our way.
Friday, June 1, 2018
This Week's Adventure
Two weeks ago, Sam and I went on one of our walks around the College. Our usual routine is that we:
1.) Drive slowly down the College entrance, looking for rabbits as we go.
2.) Park the car.
3.) Walk over to the duck-less pond, which I invariably comment on, while Sam pretends to listen.
4.) Walk over to the bench on the south side of the duck-less pond, where Sam slowly walks around it, brushing his foot through the grass as he looks for spare change, while I head over to the bench on the east side and wait for him.
5.) Wait as Sam joins me at the bench on the east side, where he finds a little bit of change.
And then, finally...
6.) We go on our walk.
There are several more steps after this, but they don’t relate to this story. Plus, they all involve me complaining about how steep the hill is and how out of breath I am. (Sometimes I toss in a few comments about how much I’m sweating - just to keep it interesting.)
Anyway, the pre-walk routine stays pretty much the same, every time we go.
If the ducks were still there (which they’re not,) you could insert “feed the ducks” between steps three and four. But since the ducks have gone, the most we do beyond these steps, is look for turtles.
Usually, we spot one or two turtles hidden in the pond. When it gets to be later in the year, we will often spot several of them sunning themselves together on the east bank. We've decided, though we don't know for sure, that this is all one big family. We have nothing to base this on, other than the fact that we like this idea, and that they all share a remarkable family resemblance.
Two visits ago, on our approach to the pond, we spotted what looked like a turtle over by the east side bench. We walked over (after stopping at the south bench to look for change) and sure enough, there was a turtle, scratching away at the dirt. We watched for a while as the turtle dug a decent sized hole, then we resumed our routine.
After rounding the College, on our way back to the car, we looked over past the pond, and the turtle was gone.
On our last visit, at the beginning of the week, we parked and looked over towards the bench, and the turtle was back. I went over to get a closer look while Sam checked for change around the south bench.
I’m not sure if this was the same turtle as the one before, but regardless, she (now clearly a “she”) had just finished digging a new hole, and was now in the process of laying eggs. I waved Sam over and we watched as she shuddered, laid an egg, gently pushed it deeper into the hole with her hind leg, and then worked on pushing out the next egg. We watched as she did this over and over again, for a total of seven eggs. (I like to think that the turtle was grateful that Sam and I had happened by so we could watch her and take pictures.)
One of the things about this college is that they are religious about keeping their grounds mowed (the word, “fanatics” comes to mind.) While this makes for some lovely looking, well-manicured fields, this has had a negative impact on our rabbet spotting pleasure. Standing there, watching as this turtle was now covering up her freshly laid eggs, it occurred to me that these lawnmowers may also have a negative impact on this turtle, as well as her potential family.
I asked Sam to stay with the turtle while I went into the building and tried and find someone I could flag this to. Since this was after dinner, the place was nearly empty. I walked the halls without finding anyone, so I left, and on the way back to the pond, I swung by the car and I grabbed a tape measure.
Back with Sam (and the grateful turtle) I measured off of the back leg of the bench to the hole, came back a foot, and poked a stick in the ground.
That was the best I could do for now.
Sam and I continued on our walk, this time with something new to talk about, other than the usual subject matter.
The next morning, I called the College and I got their their automated directory. I listened as the recording told me what number to press to get connected to places such as, the Administration Office, the Library, even to a Directory of Professors. Inexplicably, it offered no option for reporting pond related issues (so much for flagging the No Ducks situation.) Eventually, an operator picked up and I explained why I was calling. Amazingly, not only did she not laugh or hang up on me, she actually connected me to the Head Groundskeeper.
The Head Groundskeeper picked up right away, and not only did he also not laugh or hang up on me, he asked me where these eggs were buried. I explained to him which bench to go to, where to stand in relation to the bench, where and how far to measure off of the bench to where he should find a stick poking out of the ground, and how, once he saw the stick, to draw a twenty inch radius. The now buried eggs would be within that area.
I was relieved that this guy seemed to be, not only interested, but also on the ball. Not only was he following my detailed directions, but, presumably since he works at a college, he was understanding my technical terms, such as “radius” and “stick”.
He took down the information, said he knew right where I was talking about, and that he would instruct his crew to “keep a wide berth when we mow in that area for the next few weeks.” (Using terms like, “wide berth” is another reason I knew I was dealing with a professional.)
Since I wasn’t laughed at, I left him my name and phone number, “in case he had any questions” - though really, beyond him asking me what I meant by “radius” or “stick,” there wasn’t anything left to ask.
Sam and I haven’t been back to the College since this adventure. Maybe we’ll make it back there this weekend, but if I can slip away by myself, which is unlikely, I may try to swing by alone - just to make sure we won’t be met with some unforeseen disaster.
I don’t know what predators dig up and eat turtle eggs and I really don’t want to find out. At least, not when I’m standing there with Sam. Plus, if I’m able to go back there a little early, maybe I can check around the benches - just to see if there’s any loose change.
1.) Drive slowly down the College entrance, looking for rabbits as we go.
2.) Park the car.
3.) Walk over to the duck-less pond, which I invariably comment on, while Sam pretends to listen.
4.) Walk over to the bench on the south side of the duck-less pond, where Sam slowly walks around it, brushing his foot through the grass as he looks for spare change, while I head over to the bench on the east side and wait for him.
5.) Wait as Sam joins me at the bench on the east side, where he finds a little bit of change.
And then, finally...
6.) We go on our walk.
There are several more steps after this, but they don’t relate to this story. Plus, they all involve me complaining about how steep the hill is and how out of breath I am. (Sometimes I toss in a few comments about how much I’m sweating - just to keep it interesting.)
Anyway, the pre-walk routine stays pretty much the same, every time we go.
If the ducks were still there (which they’re not,) you could insert “feed the ducks” between steps three and four. But since the ducks have gone, the most we do beyond these steps, is look for turtles.
Usually, we spot one or two turtles hidden in the pond. When it gets to be later in the year, we will often spot several of them sunning themselves together on the east bank. We've decided, though we don't know for sure, that this is all one big family. We have nothing to base this on, other than the fact that we like this idea, and that they all share a remarkable family resemblance.
Two visits ago, on our approach to the pond, we spotted what looked like a turtle over by the east side bench. We walked over (after stopping at the south bench to look for change) and sure enough, there was a turtle, scratching away at the dirt. We watched for a while as the turtle dug a decent sized hole, then we resumed our routine.
After rounding the College, on our way back to the car, we looked over past the pond, and the turtle was gone.
On our last visit, at the beginning of the week, we parked and looked over towards the bench, and the turtle was back. I went over to get a closer look while Sam checked for change around the south bench.
I’m not sure if this was the same turtle as the one before, but regardless, she (now clearly a “she”) had just finished digging a new hole, and was now in the process of laying eggs. I waved Sam over and we watched as she shuddered, laid an egg, gently pushed it deeper into the hole with her hind leg, and then worked on pushing out the next egg. We watched as she did this over and over again, for a total of seven eggs. (I like to think that the turtle was grateful that Sam and I had happened by so we could watch her and take pictures.)
One of the things about this college is that they are religious about keeping their grounds mowed (the word, “fanatics” comes to mind.) While this makes for some lovely looking, well-manicured fields, this has had a negative impact on our rabbet spotting pleasure. Standing there, watching as this turtle was now covering up her freshly laid eggs, it occurred to me that these lawnmowers may also have a negative impact on this turtle, as well as her potential family.
I asked Sam to stay with the turtle while I went into the building and tried and find someone I could flag this to. Since this was after dinner, the place was nearly empty. I walked the halls without finding anyone, so I left, and on the way back to the pond, I swung by the car and I grabbed a tape measure.
Back with Sam (and the grateful turtle) I measured off of the back leg of the bench to the hole, came back a foot, and poked a stick in the ground.That was the best I could do for now.
Sam and I continued on our walk, this time with something new to talk about, other than the usual subject matter.
The next morning, I called the College and I got their their automated directory. I listened as the recording told me what number to press to get connected to places such as, the Administration Office, the Library, even to a Directory of Professors. Inexplicably, it offered no option for reporting pond related issues (so much for flagging the No Ducks situation.) Eventually, an operator picked up and I explained why I was calling. Amazingly, not only did she not laugh or hang up on me, she actually connected me to the Head Groundskeeper.
The Head Groundskeeper picked up right away, and not only did he also not laugh or hang up on me, he asked me where these eggs were buried. I explained to him which bench to go to, where to stand in relation to the bench, where and how far to measure off of the bench to where he should find a stick poking out of the ground, and how, once he saw the stick, to draw a twenty inch radius. The now buried eggs would be within that area.
I was relieved that this guy seemed to be, not only interested, but also on the ball. Not only was he following my detailed directions, but, presumably since he works at a college, he was understanding my technical terms, such as “radius” and “stick”.
He took down the information, said he knew right where I was talking about, and that he would instruct his crew to “keep a wide berth when we mow in that area for the next few weeks.” (Using terms like, “wide berth” is another reason I knew I was dealing with a professional.)
Since I wasn’t laughed at, I left him my name and phone number, “in case he had any questions” - though really, beyond him asking me what I meant by “radius” or “stick,” there wasn’t anything left to ask.
Sam and I haven’t been back to the College since this adventure. Maybe we’ll make it back there this weekend, but if I can slip away by myself, which is unlikely, I may try to swing by alone - just to make sure we won’t be met with some unforeseen disaster.
I don’t know what predators dig up and eat turtle eggs and I really don’t want to find out. At least, not when I’m standing there with Sam. Plus, if I’m able to go back there a little early, maybe I can check around the benches - just to see if there’s any loose change.
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