Metaphor Time

This past spring I picked up a box of wildflower seeds from Dollar Tree. It was on a whim, but aren’t most purchases from Dollar Tree? I didn’t really have a spot in mind but then I remembered the field behind our house, one that is attached to an elementary school but is mostly a field of grass with one ball diamond and an area that is sometimes used as a soccer field. There are a couple of sections of bare dirt ten feet or so off a roadway, sunbaked and barren, but I figured why not?

One evening the kids and I hacked into the hard earth with shovels, not really breaking down farther than a couple of inches. We didn’t really work that hard at it because it was only a buck. Then they sprinkled the seeds and the mix inside the box seemed to be mostly perlite filler, but again, just a buck. Then we raked over the seeds and I lugged a couple of five gallon buckets of water over from my house to get the seeds settled in. Some spring rains provided the rest of the water and a week or two later, after the mowing crew did their first mow, we gathered up a few armloads of grass to make a rather incomplete mulching. Over the next few weeks we would check our garden in the field when walking over to the playground but nothing was happening and we soon forgot about it.

Fast forward to July. Where we live July is dry and hot, the time when you stop mowing the lawn for a few weeks because it’s not growing. One morning while taking a walk I was going past our barren plot and it occurred to be to check. I wasn’t wearing my glasses so I walked down the ditch from the roadway and over to the forgotten garden. There were flowers! Scraggly, spindly things holding on for life, but there they were, pops of color growing out of what was little more than dried mud.

My mind was turned to prayer and God’s overflowing goodness. I’ll pray for something for a day or two and then saunter off on my merry way, forgetting my request. But behind the scenes God is often working while I do nothing. And then BLAMMO! FLOWERS! I don’t know how many times I had even forgotten that I’d asked for flowers or wasn’t even looking for them to bloom and passed them on by. Or if I see them I don’t put two and two together and fail to thank the One who answers prayers with blessings.

Make up your own allusions for this next part. They started mowing the field and the first couple of times they mowed around the patch of dirt. But eventually a government employee mowed zoomed over the top, nipping off the flower heads. Fear not… one week later and these stubborn plants were beginning to flower again.

May 5, 2020

Even though the government is graciously allowing us to slowly recover our rights I'm still working in my basement. My cold basement. Sure, I could put in a heater but A) The room I'm in isn't small so I'll be paying to heat up a large space and B) the heat will just head upstairs after a cursory nod in my direction. So each day I put on a long sleeved flannel shirt over my t-shirt* and head into the darkness. I've got three bright lights on here, plus the one in the fishtank (hello fish, my constant companion) and I've situated my desk/folding table so that I'm facing the lone 8" X 24" window (hello outside, where I can see that it's sunny but deceptively so because I know it's only 45 degrees), but the former owner did this room in medium brown paneling so it's dark here no matter what. At least today it's 68.2 degrees. When I start work the heat is just kicking on so it's about 60 degrees. During April it peak at 66.6 degrees each day... not sure what that's all about.

As one who fights self-isolating and generally only needs a little socializing this totally blows. I'm not sure how extroverts aren't cracking up. My wife keeps tabs with her usual group of people (she would correct me if I called them her friends but they are at least close-ish contacts) and there are days when she's completely socialed out and needs copious amounts of alone time to recover. Me, not so much. I stink at keeping in touch with people**. And of course I only write these here blog posts when I'm down and need some therapeutic purging. Last week I was fine and dandy and actually waved my backside at "the law" by picking up Mike and driving 45 minutes to Bluffton to jam with Andy. And every Saturday I've been playing electric guitar in The Ridge's praise band. I really don't know how off I'd be without the praise band playing. I admit that I'm not very good at playing about any instrument (some more or less than others) but I enjoy it and I'm grateful that I'm allowed to play.

In other worlds, I'm building the worlds largest playhouse. About fifteen years ago I built one that was only 6' X 6' and my older kids (who are now almost exclusively old enough to drink) wished the could have spent the night in it. We had a small yard and I had to fit a swingset and a playhouse in there... what do ya do? So this time it's 8' X 12'. A shed, if you will. And to make matters worse I decided to put a barn-style room on it, which extends up 4' and makes the entire thing ten and a half feet tall. It's only about 6" taller than the neighbors shed so still I'm a bit concerned over what I've gotten myself into. I have one more wall to frame and then up they go! The roofing joists are assembled and the wall covering is mostly cut-out so it will look proper in no time. Did I mention that this thing has six windows? Yes, I'm cashing in some savings but hey, who needs to eat. I mean, really? Fasting is supposed to be good for the body and spirit and I'll surely find that out in about five years when we run out of savings.

I suppose I should get back to work. As soon as I find my misplaced gumption. I lost it about six years ago*** and find bits and pieces of it now and then but lately it seems to be hiding from me again. Perhaps it's under the couch.

* Yes, I wash them both. The T-shirt changes but the flannel does not. I will surely burn it after this governmental experiment is over.

** Thanks to Adam and Roger for your texts in the past six weeks. I wish I had interest in a hobby like board games and once I played a very enjoyable round of Zoo Keeper where you "grow" baby animals and once played Ticket To Ride but other than that my board playing experience is very bland. Oh, I have a HeroScapes set or two in the closet, just another attempt of trying to make a friend. Maybe one day Andrew and I will play that. Maybe that day is today. And Roger, if you read this, I got your group text and I meant to respond but yes, my flip phone doesn't handle group texts very well and one day because one week and now it's a matter of "Well, it's rather late to respond so I won't." That's why I stink at keeping in touch with people.

*** Burn-out is no laff-riot, kids.

End of 2019 Music Roundup

It’s difficult to believe that’s been twenty years since Y2K mania swept the country. I don’t feel old but maybe I should…

I guess I should do some writing and what better writing to do than an end of year list? Lazy, yes, but it’s less lazy than doing nothing.

Heart – Jupiter’s Darling
Sure, it’s from 2004. This list is the best that I heard this past year, a kind of “New to me” list. Anyway, this album is amazing. I’ve been a medium Heart fan, loving Dreamboat Annie but never really digging much past that. But this album is stellar! It’s got amazing melodic hooks, searing guitars, and vocals to climb the walls! I had never noticed it before but Heart are fans of Led Zeppelin and nowhere is this more apparent that on this album. Absolutely killer.

The Claypool Lennon Delierum – South of Reality
Crazy psychedelic fun! As a weird bassist I should love Claypool but I find his usual stuff technically interesting but melodically boring. Plus he takes one or two ideas per song and drives them into the ground. Here, though, he makes actual songs and Lennon’s contributions just send everything soaring into the stratosphere! Beatley? Sure. But inventive, melodic and anything but boring.

I Don’t Know How But They Found Me – 1981 Extended Play
An EP by a guy who was the bassist in the band Panic! At the Disco for a while. Loads of insanely catchy hooks, breathy vocals, super saturated synth tones and a whompin’ good time. A bit like PATD, sure, but definitely its own thing.

The Rembrandts – Via Satellite
I was glad to finally have some new Rembrandts music and there are a couple of really good songs but sadly it seems like it’s incomplete, like maybe they needed to work on the songs a bit more before committing them. I found a note from maybe five years ago with this title so is it possible that albums been waiting to find a company to release it? It’s not bad by any stretch but I only listened to it for maybe a month whereas their previous albums (except L.P.) still get regular listens twenty plus years later. Kind of disappointing.

Neal Morse – Jesus Christ The Exorcist What is not “kind of” disappointing but is actually really disappointing is this double album by Neal Morse. It just can’t make up its mind. Is it a church cantata with simple parts so regular folks can sing it? Or is it a prog album with a few complicated passages? And maybe I missed it but I don’t recall there being ANY exorcisms discussed in the lyrics… it’s just a kind of more Biblical version of Jesus Christ Superstar but without those pesky catchy melodies, something Neal normally has in spades. I really tried to like this but it’s just bland. Sorry.

Devin Townsend – Empathy
Also disappointing is this latest album by Devin. I think the problem is, at least for me, is that now he takes himself too seriously. I mean, there are videos leading up this album where he’s doing psychoanalysis on himself and the songs and whatnot. I wouldn’t exactly say the music is pompous but you can’t just throw a few kittens into the video for an overblown choral wash and say, “See? I’m still fun.” I was attracted to Devin’s music because he WAS fun and didn’t seem to take it all too seriously. It’s not like I’ve liked everything he’s done (which isn’t to say that it wasn’t good, it just didn’t appeal to me) but the ratio of Likes to Blah is way too low. He’s now officially on my “listen before I buy” list.

Quiet,eh?

I realized that I haven't written anything in a while. Since I use this here blog as therapy that must mean that things are going decently. Calm and quiet-like, except for the brewing holiday storm, which is usual.

I'm still going to the mens Bible study and still not connecting with anyone. If anything it's worse this year because they consolidated the Thursday early morning study into the Wednesday evening so there's a large influx of old men. I used to pine for a mentor, an older Christian who could help guide me and be the involved father I didn't have but for the most part I found these aged saints to have no more idea of what's going on then those of us in their thirties and forties. Sad but true. But I still go and every few weeks get determined to speak up and share instead of sit sullenly in a mid-row seat.

What I think has made a difference is the band. I've been posting and responding to Craigslist ads for at least three years, never really getting a good response. Then about a year ago I was able to connect a few responders so that we had a bass player, a drummer, and two guitarists. We got together three times and hobbled through some songs and then the host flaked out and said he was busy on house repairs, when actually he formed a duo and was performing in the spring. But the drummer and I kept in touch and practiced at his house, just the rhythm section. After a few mis-fires we found a guitarist who played well and sang well and was enjoyable to be around and was willing to be around us geezers and so we've have maybe four jams sessions. There are few things like two hours of wailing away at a fuzz-laden bass to lift one's spirits.

And that's about it. I haven't written any fiction this year... not even a haiku.

Walmart Tire Center

I guess it's a good thing if one's life is so uneventful that this about all you have to write about...

I went to the Maysville Road Walmart Tire center for two new front tires and to have a slow leak in a rear tire repaired ($10). My first warning was that the kid checking me in was hoping around from foot to foot and couldn't keep still. I wonder what he was on. He didn't seem to have a problem following what I wanted so I dismissed it. I also asked if the two new tires could be put on the back, the repaired tire on the front and just be charged to move the one rear tire to the front ($2.50 per tire rotation). He said sure. Then he went out and sat in my van for about three or four minutes before driving it into the bay. Odd. When he came back in I asked for an estimate and he said about an hour. Then he said that he was wrong about the tire rotation cost and that they would have to charge me for all four tires. I said to forget it. Then the tire tech came in and said that the tire size on his form was wrong, that it was R17, not R18. I had told the kid the correct size. I happened to overhear the tire tech say the name "Douglas" so I asked. It turns out that the kid also put the wrong tire on the form. I asked for a Goodyear and he entered Douglas. But the kid wasn't doing the work so I let it slide. About 90 minutes later the tech comes in with my to-be-repaired tire to show me the nail and to inform me that the tires are old, showing me where it connected to the rim and how it was broken away at one point. He could put it on but wasn't completeley comfortable with the safety. Sure, I say, put on a new tire. We've had the van about six months and even though there was lots of tread the van had likely sat in storage for some time so who knows how old they were. Well, from reading the informational posters in the waiting room I learned that there IS a way and I checked the remaining original tire when I got home. 2015. That doesn't seem too old... So now it's two hours and I have three new tires. Except that the tires were $91 each online and rang up at $102 each. Bring in the manager and ten more minutes to fix this, all while the kid is standing behind the manager, occasionally making a strange arm gesture that I only hope was drug or nerve related and not some kind of gang threat. Next time I'm going anywhere else.

A Two Talent Guy

As part of my plan to be around more Christian men (I guess I should call this “fellowship” but in the case of introverts there isn’t much fellowshipping, just being it the same room will suffice… but I digress) I had been going to a weekly men’s Bible study while my younger kids were in youth group. Overall it was quite good, which is sadly a lot more than I can say for most Bible studies I’ve been in. The culmination of the study, and the kick-off of the summer series, was held a month ago at a guys house close to the church. I don’t know how many acres he had but there was a decent-sized pond, a 4000 square foot house (give or take… probably give), a vehicle building about the size of my house, recreational vehicles, and wooded areas with trails for the aforementioned recreational vehicles. Before we began the guy spoke, admitting that he was a little self-conscious to have such property but that when he first started out he had nothing but his clothes, $20 and a chip on his shoulder toward God and how all he has now is from and for the glory of God. Unlike a lot of rich Christians I really do believe that his heart is true and that this wasn’t just some story he uses to justify his desires.

I hope you’ll believe me when I say that I wasn’t envious of this man’s house, property, or wealth. However it did make me wonder a bit as to why God isn’t blessing me with such an overabundance of material thingies. I don’t even have ONE recreational vehicle, let alone the two (or was it three) that this guy had released from his out building. But like I said, it didn’t really bother me and I didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about it that evening.

As soon as I woke up the next morning I thought about the story of the talents and it hit me that I’m not responsible enough to handle ten talents. Oh. Uh, thanks for that bit of info, God. No one wants to admit or realize that they aren’t the ten-talent guy in the story but hopefully I’m at least worthy of two or three. I’ve lately come to realize that I’m not a ten-talent guy when it comes to my work, my marriage, my parenting, my musical and artistic talents, and my writing so why not also admit it with my Christian walk? I’m not hitting it out of the park in any area of my life so why not just be whole-hog average and tepid? More likely, though, I’m the fearful guy in the story. I have lived most of my life in fear-mode but God’s been working lately to relive me of this burden. But that’s another story.

This past weekend while sitting outside on a porch swing doing my morning devotionals* another thought came to me (and again, I had not thought about this man in the between time) of “Just what is it you want and don’t have that is making you unsatisfied?” And so I sat and looked at the fifth-acre I have and the 2000 square foot house and thought about the two dependable Honda** vans out front of it and my amazing, creative, intelligent kids and (last but certainly not least) my amazing, creative, intelligent and (last but certainly not least) beautiful wife and I had to admit that there really wasn’t anything I was wanting. Not even a guitar. I would absolutely HATE having to mow and take care of all that man’s property and all that house. And it’s not like we would be inviting people over and using the space for (shudder) fellowship. If there’s anything I’m wanting it’s that I would like to be able to afford to take my family on vacations like I see other people, maybe a week at the Smokey Mountains or up in Michigan, some kind of experience.

While walking to work this morning another thought came to me*** “So why don’t you TAKE a vacation like that? You’ve got savings, though you don’t want to touch it FOR FEAR that you’ll need it later. But what good is it just sitting there when you can use it for a vacation?” Hmmm…. Maybe so, maybe so.

* And lest you think I’m Mr. Spiritual, which I wish I was but I ain’t, I only manage to read and pray regularly on weekends and days I have off. I know I should do more, like in the early days of my faith, but I’m thankful for the time I do take and I look forward to these quiet moments.

** I never thought I’d own a Honda vehicle and now I have two? Sure, they are older but still kick hiney!

*** Most likely these “thoughts” are promptings by the Spirit but I am hesitant to lay claim to such.

Ol' Razzle Tail

I dunno… maybe this whole thing is my fault. We have two pear trees in our back yard and ever year one of them makes a huge crop of pears… and we’re lucky if we get to eat ten. It’s because of the squirrels. Now I don’t begrudge a woodland creature in finding food but these varmints are wasteful and I can’t abide waste. Instead of eating an entire pear and being full they take a couple of bites and let it fall to the ground to rot and grab another one. WASTE!

Two summers ago I borrowed my dad’s pump BB gun and decided I’d just scare them a bit, run them off the ranch, so to speak. One afternoon I took a shot at one in the pear tree and it ran off toward a massively tall tree near our back fence. It perched on a branch and looked at me and I took another shot. It started to run up the tree but then fell down to the ground. I expected it get back up again and scurry away, it’s tail between its legs, ne’er to return again. But it didn’t. I didn’t see any blood but it was panting. I watched it, hoping it would recover but instead it died. So I buried it in a shallow grave. I had never before killed anything with fur on it (I’m strictly a bug killin’ man) and not only felt bad that I killed it but also that I let it suffer, albeit in ignorance. I didn’t think that a mere BB gun could be so fatal. It was just the one squirrel I killed but that fall we had more than the usual amount of pears for human consumption.

The following year in the fall a dummy light came on for the van we keep outside (the garage is still packed with things from moving, an issue I’m perpetually intending to remedy). I opened the hood and saw that the oil and transmission dipsticks were inside the engine compartment and somehow, in rattling around, they had broken the wires for the traction control. I was able to fix the wires with a bit of solder and extra wire but couldn’t find anything online about what would cause the dipsticks to blow out of their holders like that. A month or two later I opened the hood again and it was full of leaves. That’s right, some squirrel had made a nest inside the engine compartment and this time chewed through the cruise control wires. Also the dipsticks were out. Bugger! I cleaned out the leaves and tried a couple of home remedies, like soaking a rag in ammonia, but still every now and then I’d find a dipstick out. We had lived the squirrels for years and never had this problem so it had to be just one rascally varmint that had “discovered” a great hiding place. Or maybe it was payback for taking down one of their ilk.

Then one day in late winter my daughter came into the house and said her are wouldn’t start. She had a brand new battery but I figured she had left some light on so I grabbed the jumper cables and headed out. The surprise under her hood was a nest made of the fireproof material under the hood, two chewed out spark plug wires and a bunch of throttle something-or-other wires chewed right up to the plastic connector. This was all fixed with a trip to the junk yard but I had taken the rare luxury of a sick day (now spoiled) which made the damage seem even more personal.

I started watching the squirrels in my yard, and there were a lot of them, sometimes as many as five just in one tree. And then there was the day that I went outside and there was a squirrel standing stock-still on the ground by the front passenger side tire of the fan, kind of hunkered down with a look of “Crap! I’m busted” on its face. It had a frayed tail, more of a crop that then usual taper. And he looked ornery. I opened the hood and the dipsticks were in place and there was no sign of damage but when I started up the van the traction control lights came on again. I checked the wires under the hood and they were fine. However by the wheel, where the cantankerous squirrel had been, I found a two inch piece of wire. That city rat had gone into the wheel well and chewed out a piece of wire OUT OF SPITE! This certainly was a declaration of war.

I had my own pump BB gun within 24 hours.

Now I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that it was this razzle-tailed varmint that was doing the chewing and it’s not always easy to see the tail when they’re on a branch twenty or thirty feet away from you so I began to hunt indiscriminately. The first one was saddening, though not as much as the “accidental” shooting. I took out two more over the course of a week, all of them with one shot to get them from the tree and one more so they didn’t suffer. I decided to stop and see if perhaps the dipstick shenanigans would stop. I mean, there are dozens of squirrels just on my street. I would feel like a serial killer if I started taking them all out. Still, once you have the taste of the hunt I would see a squirrel on my lawn and feel the impulse to go get the gun. Still I held off and for two weeks, although there were still plenty of critters in our yard there wasn’t any changed in our vehicles. Maybe, just maybe, I got the right one.

Except I probably didn’t. One afternoon the kids came running inside. “Daaaaad! There’s a squirrel inside the van!” They were outside and watched a squirrel go up inside the van. They eventually banged on the vehicle enough that he came out and went up a tree, which is where I found him. It was old razzle tail! I got a couple of shots at him but he bounded to another tree and seemingly disappeared into nowhere. Now I knew my enemy. In way I had an arch nemesis and it gave meaning to my life.

A day or two later I was inside and saw razzle tail just outside the back door. I grabbed my BB gun and slowly opened the door. The first shot missed and since his back was to me he barely moved. The second shot got him in the hind legs. And then I winced. He was army crawling toward the big tree where I got my first kill. It was both admirable and pitying. However I knew it would be cruel to let him live and so didn’t. He received an honorable burial spot near the compost pile. And that was that.

Except it wasn’t. A few days later the kids were back. “That squirrel is under the van again!” What? Two squirrels with the same razzle tail? HOW MUCH BLOOD DO I HAVE TO SHED?!?!?! HOW MANY MORE INNOCENTS MUST LOSE THEIR LIVES BEFORE OUR VEHICLES ARE SAFE?!?!

I found him on a branch of a tree in our front yard, looking down at me. I could see his tail and yes, it was him. I wonder if earlier I had killed Son O’ Razzle Tail. Amazingly my first shot took and he fell out of the tree, out of sight behind the trunk of the ancient oak. As I went around the tree I was startled to see that he too was only injured and was army crawling. Army crawling TOWARD MY DAUGHTERS CAR! I carefully took a shot so as not to hit her car and I missed. Then he was gone, climbing up in the undercarriage. I opened the hood to be safe and he wasn’t there. I couldn’t find him anywhere so I borrowed her keys and took the car around the block, watching for him to fall out in the rear view mirror. Surely he was at death’s door! But no, wherever he was, he clung on like the fighter that he is. An admirable opponent, indeed. I parked the car and went onto the front porch. Ten minutes later I saw him on the road, flat against the pavement. Ah, the ol’ bugger crawled out of his hiding spot and died. I went to the side of the house and got a shovel and a five gallon bucket. When I came around the corner of the car he lifted his head and clambered into the wheel well. The galoot wasn’t dead after all! I could see his tail sticking out but what could I do? I wasn’t about to grab the tail of a wounded animal and I couldn’t really get any kind of shot, even at point blank range. And I wasn’t about to jack the car up and take off the wheel, though maybe that wouldn’t have been a bad idea.

So I decided to wait him out. He came out a couple of times and laid on the road but as soon as a car drove past he would climb back into the wheel well. Before long it was closing in on five o’clock and there was enough constant traffic that I didn’t see him come out again.

And I haven’t seen him since. I half expected to find his carcass under her car in the morning but there was nothing. Again I took the car around the block, expecting his body to fall out of whatever he was hiding but it was obvious by this time that he was gone. Gone. I’d like to believe that he’s dead but like as terminator-like as he was I won’t be surprised if he’s somewhere healing and plotting and one day we will have another confrontation, a worthy adversary indeed. Until we meet again, Razzle Tail… until we meet again.