Muckin' about

I admit to a certain degree of lethargy. At least it appears that I'm lazy, lacking discipline in the 'shoulds' while readily seeking distraction (which makes me question my child-raising skills in as much as I used to say "75% of discipline is distraction," thereby avoiding the rod but twice, once for each, in their more formative years). But I digress.

This December had promised to be a record dry month. Having received a mere .10" of rain through the equinox when we should have closer to a full 8", I was not alone in the fret. The last two days have fixed that problem to the tune of at least 7 more inches and a few lingering showers until tomorrow morning. The bulk of it came last night and today, and as one might suspect, caused a couple issues, meaning that I would have to put aside my surfing and such.

The seasonal pond is over its bank on one side, spilling into the yard and drowning moles. The mounds are percolating and underground tunnels are now earthen hoses. Of course, the sub-surface rivulets are subject to erosion and are becoming little ditches, one of which is making its way across the driveway to the barns and mules pasturing. We'll get some 3/4 gravel tomorrow and fix it.

What pasture there is left, especially around the trough, feeding area and shelter, is badly puddled. Between the mud, ponding and trickles, there was need to dig some small trenches to facilitate drainage, which is what the mule owners and I did this afternoon.

But first, we needed to eyeball-survey the grade to plan out our course. To do that, one needs to get a little distance from the site, which was my self-appointed duty, so I stepped out of the paddock to a somewhat overgrown area between the fence and the barn and onto a board with a nail pointed north.

No worry, as it seems that I still have a little spring in my step, and even though my boots are no longer waterproof, I received only a small bruise. The digging proceeded unabated.

The effected area of the paddock is draining nicely. Tuesday, we'll dump and spread seven yards of hog fuel.

Oh, and the brand of those boots? Muck, of course. (Pictured are my new ones.)

Glimmer

Or glimpse. Not really certain, which after all makes sense. Light coming in is about all I can say at this point. Folks acting on my behalf is hope enough, and should something move forward, well then, dear friends, I shall speak of that which I did not jinx with early speculations. Not that I'm that superstitious. It's really more sabotage of my motivation and that "eggs in one basket" thing. I have several other applications that require my attention, some within the next week. Still, the word is out: I'm looking elsewhere, so now is the time to show me some love. (OK, glimmer.)

Raise your hand if you think the holidays are traumatic. I have an uncle in the hospital undergoing dialysis and heart surgery. Guess when he was admitted. Yep. The wife's good friend is a mess for more reasons than her main squeeze was rushed that same day and now has four new arteries feeding his heart. The phone.... the phone. Seems we missed a bullet ourselves on the same day when Thumper decided to remind me that I needed to sleep more than go to the young farmers' place and catch one helluva cold that cancelled our dinner plans tomorrow with other attendees. I slept and everything is pretty much back to the usual. Other than that, Santa was cool.

And now the New Year is upon us. I will be attending the annual New Year's Day poker gathering at our old home game host's house. Cash at 1300 hrs, eats at 1500 and then a tourney. If memory serves, I took the tourney down last time.

Otherwise, poker is poker. Play money O-8, albeit hilly at times, remains a walk in the park. The same for the 8 Game. Should events in paragraph one come to fruition, I may have the luxury of playing one of these games live someday.

Some day... But I shouldn't even be playing online right now. So much to do in the next week...

Wish me glimmer.

Same to you.

Soft touch

We're eating tomorrow. The turkey has defrosted and is back in the fridge. The sweet potato pie took longer to bake than I expected, but I think it's finally cooked through and is cooling. What else? Cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, dressing, gravy and peas. We'll be hitting the same feedbag for days and we're both fine with that.

Some of you are off to celebrate with family, others will knock on a neighbor's door, while an older couple are glad for the quiet and others content with solitude. I'm sure even nonbelievers get a bit in the groove of love and gratitude.

 I ask only one thing: Drop a fiver in the red bucket.

The best to you all.

Drawing non-conclusions

I could vent some more. I could.

The rainbow and shadow artist just landed another grant. Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Clever girl.

I am aware of the gap in posts of late. Thing is, it's very hard to explain what it is that keeps me away, and that's because words pretty much fail me these days. It happens, and I may have mentioned in the past how it is that this happens, or rather, what takes its place when it does. Oh, I'm good for a snippet here and there, which I've also shared a while back, which is mostly as titles. Titles for drawings.

A couple of you have no doubt seen these elsewhere. And to be truthful, I have avoided putting them here because of that darn image recognition software that is available. Not that I don't want them seen; it's just that I still hold onto the silly notion that I want this space to be free of prying eyes. Of course, that's already a desire that has been compromised. I didn't make myself clear to some when I should have. But then again, the attention seems to have waned, so we're back to cozy. Therefore, I am inclined. For those of you who are already privy, I apologize for the duplication, except you now have the advantage of seeing several of them in one place. For those out of that outside loop, I kinda feel like I owe it to you.

It may be too much at once. Add to that Blogger has managed to upload them out of order and I am too lazy to make a second attempt. I would invite you to take some time with each one, click on it to enlarge so you can see the titles. Also, think about what I wrote above, that words fail me right now. After all, that's what these pieces are about, whether it is caused by existential confusion or the frustration in the 'wordlessness' that is Nature.

C'mon

Big news here in Hollow Fork: Another road-killed deer has been added to the compost.

Lord, sometimes it seems so fucking isolated here I want to scream. So, I go play free poker online.

That's only the half of it. Believe it or not, I'm pretty content with my old adage and it is more than enough.  Not the poker. Just here. With you folks. All, what? five of you. And just here, without you.

There is the wife. She has been doing the Christmas Spirit thing. Pretty remarkable performance by an agnostic Jew. She grooves on it. She is overcome by love and generosity. I sign the cards. Oh, I bought a few presents as well. Not Scrooge, mind you. After all, I cry at the end of Alister Sim's portrayal. And I am working on her presents, which I could tell you about, for she has no idea that this blog exists. (I'm sure she has her secrets too.)

A little background: Money is a bit tight (future tales, to be sure), so we have agreed to make each other presents this year. I wrote a poem. Nothing new there. I do it for every special occasion.  I'm also compiling some music for her. But again, we've been doing that for each other for years (more she than I). But besides those two things, I was having a hard time figuring what else my little mind could come up with. So, I googled.

A memory jar. Fill a jar with hand-written notes that recall shared experiences, thoughts about those times, etc. How perfect, right?!  A gallon jug for 50th anniversaries, or a pint jar for grandkids. You're welcome, although I can't take too much credit. The very Christian folks have a bunch of ideas as well, but a collection of one's favorite Bible verses just isn't appropriate in my case. Even though I do have some, no evangelical, I keep them to myself.

Yet, I look back to near the beginning of this post, and it did start out as a prayer, did it not? Yeah, I am. Don't tell anyone, OK? Tis the season, otherwise, I wouldn't be so fellowshippy.

And I also mess with the English language. Fa la la la la laaaaaaaa.

Where was I?

We have a wreath on the front door. Kinda seems appropriate.... with the dead deer and all.

Couple days

Let's see...

Turns out the young man who died in the motor home ran a pub tourney and they had a fundraiser tourney at the same pub Monday night. Didn't go. Should have, perhaps, but will make restitution.

Maybe a good thing after all, for no telling if I would have made it back home before the power went out up here in the hills. Just an hour or so, long enough to nap and be startled awake when all systems were go once again. So, there I was, wide awake until way too late.

I sleep with my phone on. Habit from earlier dictate in the thumper days. It rang early. The wife was outside and noticed the water trough iced over, which shouldn't be with the floating heater. There may have still been a little scotch in my system, but I threw on some clothes anyway. (My head hurts just to write this.)

Yep, no power in the one barn. Hmmm. Checked the other outbuilding and they were fine. Checked the breaker box, click-click and nothing. Hmmm. Follow the extension cords from the space heater for the pipes and the one out to the trough. The connection was laying on the ground and it looked like it was covered in mud. Nope. Fused and charred.

Things get testy. Thumper tells me to take a corner. Neither lasts long.

Phone calls. Lots of phone calls, mostly to the mule folks. Want an electrician to check the barn. After all, the breaker should have broke. Don't like it one bit. No returned call, so rerouted cords and waited for the mule's pappy to bring a new trough heater.

Thinking while waiting. Check the box one more time. Not breakers I'd seen before. Fiddled with them and noticed one didn't click through. Gave it an extra push and 'click'. One more click and we have power. Disaster averted. Pipes safe for now. A ton of hay now going up in smoke.

Knock on wood.

Bad Moon

I neglected to mention the weather last night convinced me that it was in my best interest to not venture the twenty miles or so to the monthly home game. Despite the grilled burgers that would await me no matter when I showed up, I thought about the level of stress to and from as I imagined deer and drunk drivers in the dense fog, and begged out.

Mike, the host of the game, is most gracious, as are his mother and lady friend who endure this men-only game. And those who have been with me for a while know the fun I often have at this game, regardless of winning or losing, so it just seemed fitting to bring a bottle of Mike's favorite booze (I don't know what the women drink, if at all). Again, if I had gone. Still, I had the bottle and it is not something I can bring myself to drink, so when I called to cancel, I asked if he would be around today so I could drop "a little something" off for him. He said he would.

Errands were to take me near his house, and I called as I approached. I got his voice mail and I informed it that said bottle would be left on his stoop.

Now, I mention all of this without any indication of the foul mood I was in while driving in the city, sent to search out something I was almost certain of not finding. So, even though all vehicles were accounted for in Mike's driveway, I thought better not to knock as I had no idea how long the game had gone last night, and I wasn't much interested in the ensuing small talk or pleasantries while my other goal remained elusive, so I did as I said I would.

It was not long before my cell rang.

"Did you leave a bag on my step?"

"Yes. I left a message for you and didn't know if you were home, asleep or what."

He did not thank me, which I found curious (see above). "Man, it's been a rough morning." He then proceeded to tell me about his girlfriend's son and that son's girlfriend dying in a motor home fire that morning. The fire was started at the doorway of the vehicle, which the police found suspicious, and though the couple apparently tried to escape through a window, they were unsuccessful.

I expressed my sympathies and hung up. I thought about how his girlfriend must feel. Then I thought about how my own mother feels so many years after my brother was killed.

And I'll leave it at that.

Why too? Okay, again.

Frosty and foggy full moon last night, a nice ring of a rainbow when I last looked, when the dog took her last piddle. I was aware a full eclipse was on its way some hours later, and remarked so back inside. "Last one until 2014." Not that I'll stay up or get up early to see it then, either.

One of my credit cards expires 12/14. Funny, but I don't think about the same thing when I purchase online: That the world as it is now won't much matter should there become an absence of hominids next year about this same time.

Oh, lonely moon.

It was warm under the blanket and comforter.

Today promises to be busy.

Tangle

So, according to a very reliable source, I have reason to bitch. It seems that there is some evidence of favoritism toward some artists, and those who make the determinations carefully chosen. Yes, I thought "slam dunk," but that doesn't mean someone more deserving was also displaced in the pursuit of developing a more perfect mutual admiration society. Same as it ever was, elsewhere as well.

And, as promised, I have set to work on the next proposal. However, it will take a few days to put this little episode behind me.

Besides, there are other things to be thankful for.

But I won't be calling this fine art.

Bitter

I shouldn't complain. It's no doubt colder elsewhere at lower latitudes. Yet, there is something about a fog when it's 29°F that seems colder than it is. At least that's what my bones tell me. Supposedly rain is on the way, and that means the fog will dissipate and milder temperatures will set in, which is more often the way things go around here this time of year. At least until Christmas, anyway, when all hell breaks loose. Usually. Trends always have a bit of unpredictability built in.

Nor do I think I should piss and moan about other breaks from the status quo of the day-to-day. In fact, in my case I think that would be a cause for celebration.

Not everything, for again, variance is to be expected. Am I right, poker players? Am I right? Show of hands...

No, not another poker post. Let's keep the exceptions to a minimum, shall we?

It was supposed to be a done deal, fait a compli, shoe in, sure thing, picture perfect proposal. I sent in the photos of fields. You know the ones. The grant award was a cool 3K, enough to print and frame a suite of these shots. Then, I could send images of the work around to various galleries and museums in the state and pitch for an exhibit. Now, I'm back to square one. I did read that another artist I know made the cut. She works with shadows, prismatic rainbows and colored paper on windows to make pretty. I am curious to see who else got the cash.

I'll tell you, it makes me want to write some scathing reviews. It also brings out other feelings about such an artist that are no so well-deserved.

Complaining is useless. So is asking myself the rhetorical question: "So, what else is new?" Another funding deadline looms and I have yet to begin the submission process; but for now, just for the rest of the time I am awake tonight, I am going to bolster myself against the chill with a hearty three fingers of scotch.

BB Action

The week of Thanksgiving found me in Southern California, sunny about 50% of the daylight hours, but warmer, so I'll take it. Besides eating meat at least twice a day (mum-in-law dictate), and seeing some art with a friend, the only other thing on the agenda was hitting Commerce Casino with the bro-in-law for some poker.

While NL Hold 'em is where I feel most comfortable, I thought I might want to give Omaha 8 a go. I've been playing that game about 99% of the time the past few months, averaging about 100 or so hands a day in Stars' free site. Granted, freerolling is nothing like playing for real money, but I have been trying to take the game seriously, paying attention to position, figuring odds to draw and not playing any four cards like 75% of the pack does. It's paying off, but again, the field is somewhat lacking and therefore some doubts lingered as to whether I was ready for live action where chips represented more than fairy dust.

I know a couple poker regulars who play O-8, our buddy Mojo being one of them, so I dropped him an email asking for pointers. It would appear that he is a cautious player, perhaps more so than I, but I planned to take his style as my own for this foray, and watch the tables for a bit before taking a seat. If each round of betting was going to get capped as my bro-in-law suggested it sometimes does, I would look elsewhere for a chair.

As it happened, there were only two table of O-8 and they were both 6/12, so, no thanks. I said as much in a response to an email that Mojo sent me this evening asking how I had done. You can thank him and his inquiry for an actual poker-related post.

I've thought about the game off and on over the last week or so. Although the win was nice, the room itself, aside from its monstrous size, left much to be desired. The Commerce spreads a horrible NLHE game. The lowest is 2/3 with a $100 buy-in. The $200 game is 3/5. They are designed for action and rake, and one has to expect to see or be involved in all-in hands. This might be why the older Armenian guy in seat 7 opened so large, anywhere from $20 to $40. I saw a flop with a pair of tens in the BB to his $20 bet and folded to his c-bet on a dry flop. When he bet $40, once again I was in the BB, I folded AKo with very little hesitation. I had yet to see his hole cards during any hand and couldn't see a reason to pull the trigger that time with a drawing hand with less than 2 to 1 to call.

About 50% of the hands were limped around. While this could have afforded me an opportunity to play a wider range, I stuck to basics except when it came to playing the Almighty Deuce-Four and the Spanish Inquisition. Perhaps I was bored, folding as much as I was on an action table, or just because I like Grump and have fond memories of playing the SI with BWOP one evening in Vegas. Sadly, 2-4 cost me a little money, yet I am happy to say that the SI paid handsomely, enough to get me up to about $150.

Of course, pocket Kings brought me back down to $75. I began to consider topping off my stack, as there were plenty of other players willing to call, call, call when someone had the best of it. For instance, the Ukrainian in seat 6 had plenty of gambool in him, and a hot head to-boot. Before I could dig out a crumpled $20, I was dealt pocket threes, again in the BB. The Ukrainian limped, as did a couple other players. I prayed for a set and received it. I led out and only the Uke called. He did so again on the turn. When the last card was dealt, the board was straightening to the middle and I slowed down but he flatted, saying, "You have Ace-ten maybe? Good hand." He showed KT. This set him to leading out for ten bucks for a while, which shut me down. Well played, sir. And after a bit, he had to rebuy, pissing and moaning the whole way. Then he decided to take a walk.

I waited — well, not really, just card dead and more pairs that led nowhere — for his return. In the meantime, another eastern European type settled into seat 8. And when Ukey returned, the fun began again. First it was my Aces UTG. I bet smallish, $8. Ukey called. I checked my set on the flop and flat-called his bet of $10. The turn threatened straights again and I check-raised his $20 with a jam, to which he immediately folded. If looks could kill... The very next hand, again the BB, I got in free with pocket deuces. A deuce on the flop, yummy. I led out for $10, Ukey called (of course) as did the new guy. The turn was a thing of beauty: the case two. Again, I led out, but kept it small at $15. Ukey called and the other guy went into the tank with about $60 behind. My only mistake was insta-calling his jam, but on the other hand, I would not want to be accused of slow-rolling without metal detectors at each entrance. Ukey folded.

I was now doubled up. Better, even, but not by much.

Time was running out. I knew my bro-in-law wanted to leave in a half hour. (I haven't even told you about the other easy money at the table that I could have had in another three hours. Or, I could have lost all of my buy-in in the same amount of time.) As bro-in-law had to rebuy in the 3/5 game, only to see his Queens go down in a blaze to two other players, both holding AK, when an Ace came on the river, we were out of there early.

I paid for the valet parking.

Taken

Deciding that I can afford anything I want, while not wanting for much, you understand, I opted for driving by the burn piles yesterday. Not much to see, really, as they have been bulldozing the ashes,  hoping, I suppose, we get some rain before strong winds, disregarding, of course, a gully-washer sure to come. Furthermore, I can't see seeding this time of year — not that it would take well to the dead growing medium. Anyway, so dissuaded, or maybe uninspired, I continued on into town to run errands.

This was rather late in the day. Late this time of year, as 1500hrs is nearing sunset at this latitude. (Three weeks from now, the sun won't clear the tops of the fir tress across the road from us.) Still, the light lays out some nice shadows and puts a nice glow on things.

There is a parcel of land across from the brush pile fires. Until recently, there was a rather dilapidated house on the site that sat abandoned for three years as construction of a new house began. In that time, a foundation has been dug and poured, but not much else, except for the removal of the old structure. Why I bother with this background I cannot say, yet this slow pace of country life does afford a mild curiosity about the goings-on of (would-be) neighbors, and as I drove back toward home, having already dismissed the potential of a photograph of the burn, glanced up at the home site.

And I continued down the road, but not much further before looking for a place to turn around.