Good for the soul

The gut thing has found me in a foul mood the last several days, yet I shall not bother you with the details except to say that it is a good thing the sun attempted to show itself today.

The wife had told me about pumpkins still laying in a field south of us a good twenty miles. She mentioned it because she knew that a few weeks ago I came home disappointed after planning to take photographs in a ten-acre field of pie pumpkins alongside the interstate. I saw them one day, another, and then thought that my flags would look nice amongst all of that orange and dirt (the leafy matter and vines long rotted away). In that I had to take that road the following day, I did not stop, or rather, turn around at the next exit (for the flags and camera are always in the rig). The next day... they had been plowed under.

And, in that the sun had teased today, I thought to make the trip to the remaining patch.

Test #13

As you can see, the sun was not as accommodating as I would have liked. It was there, behind me, but its glow softened by clouds.

I have gotten ahead of myself.

As readers know, these trips out into the country revitalize me. Although I have been on these same roads many, many times, I never tire of them: The hills, the trees, the river and creeks, the fauna... I was singing along with lined-out hymnodies by Old Regular Baptists. I could feel myself purging the bile and was glad to see the diner, Shirley May's, I thought had closed for good had a lunchtime crowd. I counted two raptors devouring their prey roadside and at least five nutria as road kill. And I am sorry to say there is likely a Western Jay in my grill. (I forgot to check but felt the thunk.) I thought to write a poem about all of this.

Then a toilet break.

More clouds seemed to be rolling in, but I wasn't ready to call it a day. I called the wife to say I'd be taking the long way home, for I had another location in mind for a flag photo.

Thomas Creek

 Test #14

Served with a smile

We've had an appointment for a couple weeks for the local phone co-op to install our fiber optic line from the road into the house. I was just about to make a call to find out if they were running late or we had been forgotten when I saw them pull in the drive. I opened the door while the technician was still about twenty feet from the back door.

"Saw ya comin'."

"Well, sir, I am about to provide you with a state-of-the-art service that will make this cloudy, rainy day seem like one on which the sun is brightly shining on you and yours!"

Finding it a little strange that there should be a sales pitch forthcoming for a product and service we have already purchased, I replied, "You sound like a Jehovah's Witness."

In this neck of the woods, one should know better than to make such a statement. Yet, after some embarrassment and a couple apologies, we had a lovely conversation based on mutual, certainly more general ethics, beliefs and opinions. We even discussed whether the internet in its pervasiveness was inhumane and to what extent it effected familial relationships. He related how his house rules conflict with his children's friend's visits to his home. I could feel a mini-sermon coming on and interrupted.

"Again, I am sorry for any offense."

"Don't worry, I get it all the time."

I am not unfamiliar with their doctrine: "I have a couple friends who were raised as Jehovah's Witnesses, but in that they are both gay, they have been shunned."

Oddly likening their predisposition to drunk driving, he asserted, "Well, there's always free will." And knowing that I would not be able to dissuade him from such a perspective, chose to end our chat with a story.

"I'm an artist, so I see things a bit off kilter sometimes. When we started farming, one of the things that bothered me was the perniciousness of some of the weeds, and when you farm organically, it's tough to get rid of them on a wholesale basis. I asked myself what I could use to kill weeds besides a hoe.

"Now, I know from large-scale farming that a type of ammonia is used on crops as a fertilizer, but use too much, and you'll kill the plant. Urine has ammonia in it, and I had a ready supply of piss, so I decided to see if I could kill a weed just by peeing on it on a daily basis. And, because I'm an artist, I thought to videotape the process.

"I chose a thistle just starting to come up by the barn door there. Every day I'd pee on it, camera in one hand and up to my eye while I aimed with the other hand. Well, sir, one day while I had my eye stuck to the viewfinder, a van full of female JWs pulled up in the drive, but I didn't see them until I was done with my business and they were backing up."

We had a good chuckle but we did get down to business immediately thereafter. And it is only now, several hours later, I wonder if his "wife of eighteen years" had been in the van.

Book preview

I've gone ahead and done it, ordered the tell-all book by my step cousin. Half price, mind you, online. Read the reviews, all five stars. Salacious stars, no doubt, for this tale of love between step children, she of early blossom and the male drinking age.

And her mother still with us...

And the reviews speak of a sequel.

"She writes lovely letters," so says another relative.

"I've been meaning to tell you for several weeks that the book has been published," says my mother. "She's having a signing this week at the deli," and another one is in the works at the hotel over in the county seat.

"And why would you want to buy the book, Mom?"

"To help her out."

"To encourage her."

I was there for some of it and I can tell you she wasn't picky... at least regarding which step-brother. It was just a matter of which one was the wiser of the two.

Not that I am completely innocent. Well, in fact, I was innocent, as in thirteen years old, but also with those surges. Well, not exactly surges, for it seemed constant, or at least embarrassingly inconvenient in that tight pants were all the rage. No telling what had I copped the feel I bargained for but failed to acquire as that other brother would not kiss her first.

I suppose I should be grateful. For my mother's sake.

Proportion

Poker, I've played my share, including a home game last night and a trip to the casino today. I had thought, albeit last minute and very briefly, to hop on a flight to Vegas for the WBPT, but realistically knew that four or five days away might be too much of a drain on my constitution, not to mention an expense I didn't know I could justify despite the support of the wife.

So, in short, last night's game was a card-dead wash and today saw a double-up in a few short hours. "In short" because although I wanted to tell you about the set of Kings and the Aces against Queens, something far more interesting happened elsewhere in the building.

Yet, before I go on, I have a little set-up:

A few days ago, an old PAO friend, John (AKA Mad Mosby) wrote to say he would be making the drive to our local rez casino and asked if I wanted to go. We met in the poker room where I found him at a 2/5 table. Just watching the huge pots made Thumper flutter despite the beta blocker, and I thought that even were I able to afford that game, I would not be able to justify putting that much money on the line just for entertainment. I was happy when John later informed me that he had done quite well.

Then we went to dinner.

The plan was that John would head home and I wold hit the 1/3 tables again after eating. We said our goodbyes, and I headed back to the poker room. Then I remembered I should call the wife and headed outdoors. John was coming back inside. He changed his mind and decided to play roulette for a little while. Having never played roulette, nor wanting to, I was nevertheless curious and decided to watch.

We both watched for a while, and then we again said farewell.

But I couldn't bring myself to go back into the poker room. Dinner set too heavy, which meant my head would not be in the game, so I played a slot, broke even and decided to call it a night.

John was playing roulette.

Now, as I said, we had watched this game for a while. The table was full at one point and the chips were flying. I guess 37 to 1 odds will do that, but it was the Asian couple on the far corner that caught my attention, for while she was putting a hundred or so in play each roll, her husband was placing out anywhere from 900 to 1,000 dollars all over the board.

Both were well dressed. He had some card in front of him on which he wrote after each roll. While we watched, he managed to stay about even. When I found John the second time, no more than a half hour later, he informed me that the guy had already gone through $7,000 in that time, and I watched him go through another 2K in ten minutes.

My lord.

But it wasn't just him. And the house was killing. Granted, others had less but everyone except John seemed intent on getting all or most of their chips on as many numbers as they thought "prudent." All bent forward over the board placing chips like charms, it was more like ritualized hysteria than a game. And perhaps knowing that success was surely fleeting, no one smiled when they won.

And while I could pat myself on the back for sticking with a game I knew I could beat, I also knew that nothing could beat the warm fire and bright smile waiting an hour away, so we said our final goodnight.

A quick poem

Fountains in the yard where moles and gophers 
once roamed. Small back flow in the basement.  
The pond is over its banks. 
Little sun breaks turn to a starry night 
and thin ice on the porch.

I flop Jacks Full on a spades draw board but fold 
with three players in to that black King turned
and a reraise, re-reraise, all-in, 
call. Flip 'em. The one-outer comes 
on the river for a Royal.

No Spring-Back Chicken

So, I was in Illinois, first at my Mom's for five days and then in Chicago for three. Mom's a bit of a pack rat. Not a hoarder, mind you, but her sentimentality does get the best of her, enough so that her car sat in the drive. Twenty contractor bags later, we're still friends. Now there's plenty of room for the vehicle and just in time for her eightieth birthday.

Good son.

Then Chicago. And on the first night, scotch. Lots of it. These people hadn't seen me in many years: some just three years; some more like twenty. I couldn't say no, could I?

I should have.

This was early. It was also a bit of frivolity as the officer who has my arm wrenched behind my back is a friend of friends. I asked for a photo with him and got a little more than I expected. That's my bad arm, so maybe the booze was a good thing at this point.

But not later. Not five hours later.

Yet, I must say that I haven't laughed so much in one evening in a long, long time. I forgot my troubles and ills, and I wasn't reminded of the latter until the next morning and for the next thirty-six hours, most of which found me asleep.

That was a week ago. Let's just say my acupuncturist was none too pleased this week.

Lesson learned? Yes. In fact, lessons.

But I'm still a bit too exhausted to list them out. (And hence, my prolonged absence.) Just thought you folks would get a kick out of the photo.

Poker....

Truth be told, I have not been very good at hanging around the house and resting as I was told to do. I've been fishing once and tried to go again today, except the rivers are too swollen with the recent rains.

I thought that might be the case and came prepared. You see, the highway to the river I wanted to hit passes right by the local casino, so I brought three hundo. Just in case.

Now, if I was to have put on my waders instead, getting to the river at dawn would have been part of the plan; and it was, but one slip on a deserted bank would have found me  feeding crabs part of my face and hands a few miles further downstream. A losing day at the casino would be a better option, but arriving at 0815 hrs finds an equally empty poker room.

"How long before things get going in here?"

"About nine."

So I fooled around with $20 in the penny slots for a while and checked back occasionally until I saw a table full of white chips. Yeah, I'd play Limit for a bit in hopes of a NL table opening before dinner.

"You gonna play in the tournament?" an older gentleman asked.

"No."

"It's cheap. 40 bucks."

And by the time I got my rack of whites, the table broke for said tourney, so I bought in.

The levels were 20 minutes, 3K in chips, 25/50 to start. By the end of the first level I was short stack on the table. AK and JJ didn't cooperate, loosing both to the same codger. Yet, by the fourth level I had a well above average stack and he was gone. AA and QQ held up nicely, as did some well-timed aggression. And so it went until the final table. I did manage to make the bubble (4th) and jammed with my three big blinds from the big blind with deuces. (The first time I was able to actually defend my blinds.) Spades. Nice hand, sir.

Oh well.

Truth be told, I had a couple cups of joe beforehand. And, having not had any for a while, let me tell you I noticed a difference. I was wired for sound when I first sat down. And then I remembered my little tin with gum, Immodium and Thumper pills. I was chomping the gum, I was plugged up for the time being, and by the second level I was as cool as the seasoned pro.

So, I would like to dedicate this post to beta blockers.