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.

Well enough alone

I'm still quite capable of running errands or taking drives into the country.  The above was taken behind our vet's clinic. I thought to add my flags to the scene but a tad bit of self-consciousness snuck in as another vehicle pulled into the lot.  Out in the sticks, it's not an issue.

OK, I'm back.

Kind of... Enough, anyway, to try to redeem myself with another, more readable essay. Be sure to check out the links at the bottom, especially the first one. It gives a good picture of the environment in which the photos were taken.

I haven't gone public with the following yet, but you guys are special. I have been ordered by the medical folks to curtail my travels to the city, except, of course to keep my appointments with them. Seems I was beating a nearly-dead horse, largely fueled by coffee and Pepto.

Yeah, I know. How rough is it to work from home with a road trip twice a week to look at art?

My one editor, the one that pays a living wage, took it pretty well. The other one I'll wait to tell as he owes me money. The former has suggested I work on my memoirs and do some broader cultural commentary pieces for him at my leisure, at least until I get to feeling like my old self.

And when, exactly, will that be? I was told a year. I'm hoping it's considerably less, for it's not just the city stuff that she wants me to forgo: Trips of any kind, certainly that wood pile, and anything else that causes stress or exertion. (Judging from the way my gut and Thumper reacted last night, this includes poker.)

Well, it's going to have to wait a bit. I have one more obligation up north and need to go help my Mom in a couple weeks. In the meantime I will do as I'm told as best as I can by confining my activities to the studio. Upon my return I need to organize the thousands of photos I have (mostly trashing) and ready myself for a March exhibit.

I do need to turn this ship around in case we get a buyer for this place next spring.

I think it's also time I write a piece about an eccentric relative...

And hey, thanks for being there.

Metaphor for my week

The low tide is twelve to eighteen hour of sleep each day. See you when I get back on my feet.

Oddities

Grass field burns yesterday and day before. The latest I've seen, but given the air quality from the forest fires, understandable. That and today it's raining for the first time since early July.

Found a stupidly bingo-ish PLO full table. Apparently they're regulars to this game nightly. Variance is massive but I'm still making fake money by the worthless hand fulls.

And speaking of "nothing," I have another essay published. If you've thought others esoteric, just wait until you read this one.

And I've gone ahead and started putting away the firewood. The pile is tarped right now, but I kinda amazed myself yesterday by enduring several hours of hauling and stacking. And my back hurts just a little.