Here it is! It's been a very productive couple of days, video-wise. So enjoy the fruits of my labors. And the fruit of my loins.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Adventures in Moving Pictures
So our friend Brad, the choir director at Williams, is starting a very nifty project, and, inspired by the emails we used to get as supporters of Barack Obama, in which there would be a video of the higher-ups in the campaign, he decided to make a video that he could embed in an email and send out to potential donors. He asked me to help him, and we brainstormed, shot script ideas back and forth, did some practice runs, and then sat down and filmed the $@!@#$(*^ thing. Brad then edited it together, and the result is linked below for your perusal. And i think it came out absolutely fabulous. Once the rubber hit the road, I ran the camera and flipped the cue cards, while Brad made the magic happen. Check it out, it's way cool:
My vacation started early on Friday. Snow day! Even though the snow didn't actually start falling until nearly noon, our beloved and exceedingly wise superintendent pulled the trigger and took no chances, forcing us to stay home for all of Friday. It was grand.
Today was grand too, though I did not get out and hunt. I'm feeling a little sickly again - nasal stuff this time. Not sure what to think. So I stayed in and rested. The snow has been glorious - we did quite a bit of video shooting yesterday and today, so hopefully I'll be able to get that up on here before too long. Been clearing some old projects out of the way - the video for Quinn's birthday, and another that's basically odds and ends from the summer that don't coalesce by themselves into a form that makes for a compelling narrative, but which I've concocted into a stew that might still be satisfying.
There - I did it! Here's Part 1:
And here's Part 2:
Q had his friend O over today, and they spent 90% of their time outside building a snow fort. There was this whole narrative going on of how they would defend themselves against "bullies" (I'm picturing thickset kids from 1935 with plugs of tabacky and slouch caps, slingshots poking out of their back pockets, the whole nine yards). It was cold out, too - never got above 19 degrees today. But through the miracle of snow pants, they were able to stay out the whole time. T went out for a good amount of the day as well, and they played with her beautifully - Y'know, he was here for hours, had lunch with us, and never, not once, was there a squabble, not only between O and Q, but among the three of them. They never got impatient with her, she never felt ignored...What a successful interaction.
O's Dad came and took him skiing at 4:30 or so, and we settled in for some video-watchin' (the video I may or may not get up tonight) and shower-takin' before supper, since after supper we were scheduled to go to our friend Ed's house, because Ed got tenure! (As did Nicole across the street - one of Rafi and Luca's moms!) He had us over for desserts and "grapa", an Italian licqueure (the computer tells me that's spelled wrong, but I forge bravely ahead, since most of the letters there look like they shouldn't be there, but I know that they're not all wrong, and so I'm paralyzed). It was very nice - the kids all sat and watched "The Wizard of Oz", thus enabling Janneke to keep the promise she had made T - that they would watch it tonight on TV, as it was to be broadcast.
T made Christmas cookies with Janneke today, and that's also in the video pipeline...Y'know, I should probably get my act together and start cooking up these videos rather than sit here and describe them to you. I got this one up - I'm on vacation, I can do the others too. Shouldn't take too long, provided I don't do any household chores. (Don't tell Janneke.)
My vacation started early on Friday. Snow day! Even though the snow didn't actually start falling until nearly noon, our beloved and exceedingly wise superintendent pulled the trigger and took no chances, forcing us to stay home for all of Friday. It was grand.
Today was grand too, though I did not get out and hunt. I'm feeling a little sickly again - nasal stuff this time. Not sure what to think. So I stayed in and rested. The snow has been glorious - we did quite a bit of video shooting yesterday and today, so hopefully I'll be able to get that up on here before too long. Been clearing some old projects out of the way - the video for Quinn's birthday, and another that's basically odds and ends from the summer that don't coalesce by themselves into a form that makes for a compelling narrative, but which I've concocted into a stew that might still be satisfying.
There - I did it! Here's Part 1:
And here's Part 2:
Q had his friend O over today, and they spent 90% of their time outside building a snow fort. There was this whole narrative going on of how they would defend themselves against "bullies" (I'm picturing thickset kids from 1935 with plugs of tabacky and slouch caps, slingshots poking out of their back pockets, the whole nine yards). It was cold out, too - never got above 19 degrees today. But through the miracle of snow pants, they were able to stay out the whole time. T went out for a good amount of the day as well, and they played with her beautifully - Y'know, he was here for hours, had lunch with us, and never, not once, was there a squabble, not only between O and Q, but among the three of them. They never got impatient with her, she never felt ignored...What a successful interaction.
O's Dad came and took him skiing at 4:30 or so, and we settled in for some video-watchin' (the video I may or may not get up tonight) and shower-takin' before supper, since after supper we were scheduled to go to our friend Ed's house, because Ed got tenure! (As did Nicole across the street - one of Rafi and Luca's moms!) He had us over for desserts and "grapa", an Italian licqueure (the computer tells me that's spelled wrong, but I forge bravely ahead, since most of the letters there look like they shouldn't be there, but I know that they're not all wrong, and so I'm paralyzed). It was very nice - the kids all sat and watched "The Wizard of Oz", thus enabling Janneke to keep the promise she had made T - that they would watch it tonight on TV, as it was to be broadcast.
T made Christmas cookies with Janneke today, and that's also in the video pipeline...Y'know, I should probably get my act together and start cooking up these videos rather than sit here and describe them to you. I got this one up - I'm on vacation, I can do the others too. Shouldn't take too long, provided I don't do any household chores. (Don't tell Janneke.)
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Upstate Theatricality
Hey, folks - It's really late, but I haven't given you the latest for a good little while, so I'll just shoot you some highlights quick before I hit the hay:
I was home sick two days last week with a stomach thing, and now T appears to be coming down with it. More on that later. Had an ultrasound done, I did, and an x-ray on the abdomen, and there were no knitting needles or staplers lodged down there. Other than that, I don't think we determined much.
Ain't seen hide nor hair neither of buck nor doe up yonder on Ragged Mountain. And that, again, is more than enough of that.
Hobie is ever more palsied and rickety. He still enjoys life, but the decline is becoming precipitous. More and more eye goo, deafness now that is all but total, a tendency to wander over to you and lean heavily, asking for attention like an old drunk hitting up a barely-recognized former gradeschool classmate for a drink...He followed me downstairs this morning for some reason, and I had to go back down and carry him up. Can't do hardwood stairs - his feet don't get enough purchase, and the slipperiness is more information than his brain can process. Stiff in the hips, paler and paler, shedding more and more...He's still nice to have around, but I suspect it won't be long. (Now watch him show up in Q's high school graduation photos.)
T has taken to preparing breakfast in the morning for whichever parent she can. I was home sick on Thursday and so was the recipient of a tray with any number of plastic food items on it. She doesn't ask permission, doesn't ask what you want - she just walks in, carefully balancing her brimming tray, and announces it to you. It is the warmest and most delightful thing anyone has ever experienced, ever.
Q spends probably a total of at least an hour of each home day at the piano - APART FROM practice time with Mami. And he isn't just hammering out "Crazy Frog" as fast as he can (though he does do that) - he's going ahead in his books and checking out what next week's lesson will bring, he's refining his attention to subtleties in the pieces he's working on how, he's inventing minor-key versions of songs he learned to play weeks ago, alternating between those and the major versions he's learned...It's fascinating to listen to. I'm scared to mess it up so I don't say much, but Janneke and I will just look at each other and smile when he heads that way. Best pile of money we ever spent.
Though the Dyson Ball vacuum cleaner is at the top of the list too. It is just brilliant. Spending the big bucks on a vacuum cleaner is so worth it. (Though the Rainbow was just waaay too much.)
Spent the afternoon today on a field trip to Schenectady, NY, where we watched a community theater production of a locally written and produced play called "The Land of the Night Before". I'm sure the theater group has a website somewhere - it was at the Proctor's complex, which has a giant theater (that was holding a performance of The Nutcracker today at the same time as our play, and which attracted a whole separate class of people, from what we could see - we had kind of had enough of that show last year, and so vowed to do a different sort of Christmas outing this year) and a smaller theater space a couple of doors down. They seem to dominate much of the old downtown in Schenectady. (I just revel in the fact that I can spell that. "Schenectady". Though I'm still not too clear on "Poughkeepsie".)
It was very "Waiting for Guffman" - original songs, local folks with well-hidden dreams of making it big, a cast of fifty-year-olds and seventh graders, hand-painted scenery, a spotlight that you could hear every time it fired up - I think they were actually shoveling coal into it. Not a big-budget production.
But over a hundred people, probably, clapping and laughing, and probably forty involved in the production. There was a lot to make fun of - and Janneke and I were sneaking sidelong glances at each other all afternoon. The plot was that there's this place where they're perpetually locked in "The Night Before..." - and nobody there knows what comes the next day, because the next day never comes. And some magical travelers come through and are perplexed by the situation - gifts that never ever get opened, trees that are circularly decorated and undecorated all day long - and you're sure, of course, that these travelers will show the people that the true joy of "The Holiday" ("Christmas" is never mentioned, which reeeeeally grated on us after not very long at all) is in its oh-so-ephemeral, and therefore, glorious, completion.
But no, in the end the travelers decide that the townspeople are better off being perpetually blue-balled by Christmas (sorry - "The Holiday That Shall Not Be Named"), and they all sing happily about how great it is never to achieve fulfillment. Which is just very, very weird. (Janneke was the first to connect "The Holiday" and "It" as something that good kids can play around with, and maybe even come close to, but can never actually do.)
But I can't bring myself to make too much fun of it, because we had this overwhelming impression throughout, for so many reasons, that the world is a far, far better place for having seen this production. The writers, the producers, the directors, the musicians, the actors, the stage hands, the volunteer ushers - Everyone was so tickled to be living their lives in this very full way, producing something that is new and is theirs, and which never would have been had they not come together as a community and done it. It was very appropriate to be in upstate New York and feel such a Bedford Falls-type event coming into being. I could almost see Bert the cop and Ernie the taxi driver sneaking into the chorus on a couple of numbers.
We had a lot of other things in common with "It's A Wonderful Life" too. T had taken her dramamine before the trip, and when the play started, and when its quality became pretty apparent, T started to complain about being sick. We assumed this was her being dramatic about her medicine, which she does a lot, as an excuse to not have to stay in the theater and be bored. So we told her we weren't going to leave, that she could lie down in our laps if she wanted but she wasn't getting out. "Am I gonna throw up?", she'd ask, with that strange belief that we would know, and that strange belief that whatever vaguely travel-related activity she partakes in might somehow result in vomit. Last time I'd heard it was when we got pulled over for a burnt-out tail light on the way to a movie. "No, T," we said, "you are not going to throw up. You're not sick, you just want to move, but you can't right now. Settle down and watch the play, please."
Then she threw up. So both T and Zuzu had holiday heaves. I caught some in my hands, Janneke some more in hers, and I carried her (T, not Janneke) to the bathroom and cleaned us both up. (I just now wonder how Janneke managed to clean herself off - she stayed behind with Q, who, by now, has seen T vomit so many times that he hardly even blinks. Just lifts his hands to protect his eyes and keeps watching. But, hey, I shouldn't worry about how or if she managed to clean up. This is Janneke. She probably has a firehose and an autoclave in her purse - I'm sure she did just fine.) Then T and I went down to the lobby and hung out on a big comfy couch, waiting for intermission and talking about penguins. She felt a lot better, and was able to go in and see the second half of the show, where the giant snowman was finally vanquished and Yule, the magical stranger, overcame his self-doubt and realized with triumphant zeal that he should give up on this whole idea of helping people to actually experience their lives and pretty much just leave well enough alone. Huzzah!
Home to Chinese food, piano lessons, bedtime stories and bedtime. Which I am soon to experience.
I was home sick two days last week with a stomach thing, and now T appears to be coming down with it. More on that later. Had an ultrasound done, I did, and an x-ray on the abdomen, and there were no knitting needles or staplers lodged down there. Other than that, I don't think we determined much.
Ain't seen hide nor hair neither of buck nor doe up yonder on Ragged Mountain. And that, again, is more than enough of that.
Hobie is ever more palsied and rickety. He still enjoys life, but the decline is becoming precipitous. More and more eye goo, deafness now that is all but total, a tendency to wander over to you and lean heavily, asking for attention like an old drunk hitting up a barely-recognized former gradeschool classmate for a drink...He followed me downstairs this morning for some reason, and I had to go back down and carry him up. Can't do hardwood stairs - his feet don't get enough purchase, and the slipperiness is more information than his brain can process. Stiff in the hips, paler and paler, shedding more and more...He's still nice to have around, but I suspect it won't be long. (Now watch him show up in Q's high school graduation photos.)
T has taken to preparing breakfast in the morning for whichever parent she can. I was home sick on Thursday and so was the recipient of a tray with any number of plastic food items on it. She doesn't ask permission, doesn't ask what you want - she just walks in, carefully balancing her brimming tray, and announces it to you. It is the warmest and most delightful thing anyone has ever experienced, ever.
Q spends probably a total of at least an hour of each home day at the piano - APART FROM practice time with Mami. And he isn't just hammering out "Crazy Frog" as fast as he can (though he does do that) - he's going ahead in his books and checking out what next week's lesson will bring, he's refining his attention to subtleties in the pieces he's working on how, he's inventing minor-key versions of songs he learned to play weeks ago, alternating between those and the major versions he's learned...It's fascinating to listen to. I'm scared to mess it up so I don't say much, but Janneke and I will just look at each other and smile when he heads that way. Best pile of money we ever spent.
Though the Dyson Ball vacuum cleaner is at the top of the list too. It is just brilliant. Spending the big bucks on a vacuum cleaner is so worth it. (Though the Rainbow was just waaay too much.)
Spent the afternoon today on a field trip to Schenectady, NY, where we watched a community theater production of a locally written and produced play called "The Land of the Night Before". I'm sure the theater group has a website somewhere - it was at the Proctor's complex, which has a giant theater (that was holding a performance of The Nutcracker today at the same time as our play, and which attracted a whole separate class of people, from what we could see - we had kind of had enough of that show last year, and so vowed to do a different sort of Christmas outing this year) and a smaller theater space a couple of doors down. They seem to dominate much of the old downtown in Schenectady. (I just revel in the fact that I can spell that. "Schenectady". Though I'm still not too clear on "Poughkeepsie".)
It was very "Waiting for Guffman" - original songs, local folks with well-hidden dreams of making it big, a cast of fifty-year-olds and seventh graders, hand-painted scenery, a spotlight that you could hear every time it fired up - I think they were actually shoveling coal into it. Not a big-budget production.
But over a hundred people, probably, clapping and laughing, and probably forty involved in the production. There was a lot to make fun of - and Janneke and I were sneaking sidelong glances at each other all afternoon. The plot was that there's this place where they're perpetually locked in "The Night Before..." - and nobody there knows what comes the next day, because the next day never comes. And some magical travelers come through and are perplexed by the situation - gifts that never ever get opened, trees that are circularly decorated and undecorated all day long - and you're sure, of course, that these travelers will show the people that the true joy of "The Holiday" ("Christmas" is never mentioned, which reeeeeally grated on us after not very long at all) is in its oh-so-ephemeral, and therefore, glorious, completion.
But no, in the end the travelers decide that the townspeople are better off being perpetually blue-balled by Christmas (sorry - "The Holiday That Shall Not Be Named"), and they all sing happily about how great it is never to achieve fulfillment. Which is just very, very weird. (Janneke was the first to connect "The Holiday" and "It" as something that good kids can play around with, and maybe even come close to, but can never actually do.)
But I can't bring myself to make too much fun of it, because we had this overwhelming impression throughout, for so many reasons, that the world is a far, far better place for having seen this production. The writers, the producers, the directors, the musicians, the actors, the stage hands, the volunteer ushers - Everyone was so tickled to be living their lives in this very full way, producing something that is new and is theirs, and which never would have been had they not come together as a community and done it. It was very appropriate to be in upstate New York and feel such a Bedford Falls-type event coming into being. I could almost see Bert the cop and Ernie the taxi driver sneaking into the chorus on a couple of numbers.
We had a lot of other things in common with "It's A Wonderful Life" too. T had taken her dramamine before the trip, and when the play started, and when its quality became pretty apparent, T started to complain about being sick. We assumed this was her being dramatic about her medicine, which she does a lot, as an excuse to not have to stay in the theater and be bored. So we told her we weren't going to leave, that she could lie down in our laps if she wanted but she wasn't getting out. "Am I gonna throw up?", she'd ask, with that strange belief that we would know, and that strange belief that whatever vaguely travel-related activity she partakes in might somehow result in vomit. Last time I'd heard it was when we got pulled over for a burnt-out tail light on the way to a movie. "No, T," we said, "you are not going to throw up. You're not sick, you just want to move, but you can't right now. Settle down and watch the play, please."
Then she threw up. So both T and Zuzu had holiday heaves. I caught some in my hands, Janneke some more in hers, and I carried her (T, not Janneke) to the bathroom and cleaned us both up. (I just now wonder how Janneke managed to clean herself off - she stayed behind with Q, who, by now, has seen T vomit so many times that he hardly even blinks. Just lifts his hands to protect his eyes and keeps watching. But, hey, I shouldn't worry about how or if she managed to clean up. This is Janneke. She probably has a firehose and an autoclave in her purse - I'm sure she did just fine.) Then T and I went down to the lobby and hung out on a big comfy couch, waiting for intermission and talking about penguins. She felt a lot better, and was able to go in and see the second half of the show, where the giant snowman was finally vanquished and Yule, the magical stranger, overcame his self-doubt and realized with triumphant zeal that he should give up on this whole idea of helping people to actually experience their lives and pretty much just leave well enough alone. Huzzah!
Home to Chinese food, piano lessons, bedtime stories and bedtime. Which I am soon to experience.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Adjustments Have Been Made
So Wednesday morning I went out and scoped out my deer stand. I knew about the isolated apple tree, and brought with me a couple of blaze-orange items to hang in it and then back away to see what my best shooting lanes might be. But as I approached the tree, I came across very fresh deer tracks in the snow. I followed them, and they appeared to skirt the clearing heading south in what may actually be a regular route for them. So I now had two potential shooting lanes to scope.
I dropped my blaze-orange hat on the trail, and then went and hung the vests I'd brought (and dropped my gloves there in various spots for good measure), and then paced back to see just how I might be able to position myself.
I found the base of a tree that would break up or disguise my mass to deer approaching either along the path where the tracks were, or approaching the apple tree from the south, and which allowed very open shooting in either direction. The apple tree at 12:00, the path at 9:00. Great spot.
I then spent an hour or more scoping out my approach, making sure I'd be able to find it in the dark. And when occasionally I ran across a squirrel, I'd do my best to try to bring him down. And I am man enough to admit that they all got away from me.
Now, I shoot a .22 for squirrel, so when they're way up there in the tree, there's some skill involved. No scope - just me and the open sights. And they maneuvered well enough to never allow me a very open shot, and all got away clean, either by scampering to other trees that had holes in them, or, in one instance, by deciding that the treetop was no safe place and blazing down the trunk - even as I ran toward it to try to scare them back up - and then high-tailing it cross-country to where it doubtless knew there to be a rabbit hole. Because it dived under a brush pile, and no amount of stomping would dislodge it.
What I needed, was a dog. And as soon as I have one - one that is not old and deaf - I think I will teach it to chase squirrels. Because had I had a dog - a bull terrier, say - eagerly awaiting the squirrel at the bottom of the tree, he'd have stayed up. And I'd be frying him right about now.
So the land where I'm going to hunt is public, and there is the danger that some other yahoo will have scoped out the same spot, and will be sitting there - or maddeningly near - tomorrow morning. All I can do is get there earlier than they're willing to. The sun comes up around 6:00, so if I'm there by 5:00, I have to imagine that would make me the champion. But we'll see. I have all my gear already laid out in the front room - I'll probably sleep on the couch tonight so as not to bother Janneke.
And that is much more than enough about that.
T and Janneke are off watching a puppet show in Albany with T's friend Conor and his mother, Denise. Leaving me and Q here for the afternoon. Q's settled in to watch the Giants and the Redskins, and I'm doing this until my school website is up and running. I hope it comes up before too long - I have a standard sub document that I alter for any given day that I'm going to be out, and if I can get to the website, I can access it. If not, no - and I'll have to do the whole thing from scratch. Bla.
On the squirrel front, we've taken Auntie Jayne's advice and purchased a squirrel-proof feeder. The Yankee Dipper, I believe - curved little perches with a spring that will hold up the weight of a bird up to a cardinal, but buckle under anything heavier. And today we saw a squirrel try it, and by crackee, that thing works - plunk!, right to the ground. Here's some evidence:
What did I do with the old, non-squirrel-proof feeders? Take a gander:
Squirrels can't get up the aluminum siding, and can't scamper down from the roof. (He said, arrogantly.) And here, it's visible from the vantage point of the couch, looking out through the patio door. Nice. And the other one:
I resurrected from the pile at the side of the house the pole with the inverted-cone-shaped squirrel baffle that the previous owners left us, and hung from its top the suet, and bolted the other feeder to the flat platform on top.
See how the squirrels stare longingly from the closest possible leaping point, which is still just slightly too far away:
I have no sympathy whatsoever.
There's other news, but I'm about to get set composing from scratch a new doc for my sub tomorrow. (Bleah.) Still no response from the Lenox server. Man, I tell you, the timing of that couldn't have been worse. It was working yesterday! They had warned us that it might be down for a while during the vacation - but to wait until Sunday to have it go down?! Grr...
I dropped my blaze-orange hat on the trail, and then went and hung the vests I'd brought (and dropped my gloves there in various spots for good measure), and then paced back to see just how I might be able to position myself.
I found the base of a tree that would break up or disguise my mass to deer approaching either along the path where the tracks were, or approaching the apple tree from the south, and which allowed very open shooting in either direction. The apple tree at 12:00, the path at 9:00. Great spot.
I then spent an hour or more scoping out my approach, making sure I'd be able to find it in the dark. And when occasionally I ran across a squirrel, I'd do my best to try to bring him down. And I am man enough to admit that they all got away from me.
Now, I shoot a .22 for squirrel, so when they're way up there in the tree, there's some skill involved. No scope - just me and the open sights. And they maneuvered well enough to never allow me a very open shot, and all got away clean, either by scampering to other trees that had holes in them, or, in one instance, by deciding that the treetop was no safe place and blazing down the trunk - even as I ran toward it to try to scare them back up - and then high-tailing it cross-country to where it doubtless knew there to be a rabbit hole. Because it dived under a brush pile, and no amount of stomping would dislodge it.
What I needed, was a dog. And as soon as I have one - one that is not old and deaf - I think I will teach it to chase squirrels. Because had I had a dog - a bull terrier, say - eagerly awaiting the squirrel at the bottom of the tree, he'd have stayed up. And I'd be frying him right about now.
So the land where I'm going to hunt is public, and there is the danger that some other yahoo will have scoped out the same spot, and will be sitting there - or maddeningly near - tomorrow morning. All I can do is get there earlier than they're willing to. The sun comes up around 6:00, so if I'm there by 5:00, I have to imagine that would make me the champion. But we'll see. I have all my gear already laid out in the front room - I'll probably sleep on the couch tonight so as not to bother Janneke.
And that is much more than enough about that.
T and Janneke are off watching a puppet show in Albany with T's friend Conor and his mother, Denise. Leaving me and Q here for the afternoon. Q's settled in to watch the Giants and the Redskins, and I'm doing this until my school website is up and running. I hope it comes up before too long - I have a standard sub document that I alter for any given day that I'm going to be out, and if I can get to the website, I can access it. If not, no - and I'll have to do the whole thing from scratch. Bla.
On the squirrel front, we've taken Auntie Jayne's advice and purchased a squirrel-proof feeder. The Yankee Dipper, I believe - curved little perches with a spring that will hold up the weight of a bird up to a cardinal, but buckle under anything heavier. And today we saw a squirrel try it, and by crackee, that thing works - plunk!, right to the ground. Here's some evidence:
What did I do with the old, non-squirrel-proof feeders? Take a gander:
Squirrels can't get up the aluminum siding, and can't scamper down from the roof. (He said, arrogantly.) And here, it's visible from the vantage point of the couch, looking out through the patio door. Nice. And the other one:
I resurrected from the pile at the side of the house the pole with the inverted-cone-shaped squirrel baffle that the previous owners left us, and hung from its top the suet, and bolted the other feeder to the flat platform on top.
See how the squirrels stare longingly from the closest possible leaping point, which is still just slightly too far away:
I have no sympathy whatsoever.
There's other news, but I'm about to get set composing from scratch a new doc for my sub tomorrow. (Bleah.) Still no response from the Lenox server. Man, I tell you, the timing of that couldn't have been worse. It was working yesterday! They had warned us that it might be down for a while during the vacation - but to wait until Sunday to have it go down?! Grr...
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Rugged Individualism
So Janneke went to Philadelphia and spent several days at a conference. She did all kinds of professional stuff, including facilitating panels and...Hey, you know what? If you want to know so much about it, go and ask her, fer chrissakes.
Because back at the ranch was where the rubber hit the road. Back where no one reimburses us for our travel, where there's no complementary cocktails and no Christmas room at the B&B. Back where two kids have hungry mouths that need to be fed, there's a pile of laundry sky-high, outdone only by the tower of dishes and the dog that's clamoring to be walked at the end of a long, hard day in the salt mines of public education. Back in the real America.
Ronadh was instrumental in my foray into single parenthood. She let me dump - er, drop off the kids at her house around 6:45 Friday morning, which allowed me to get to work on time for a day of restraint training. Kid rasslin', as I like to put it. (I get re-certified every year. It's usually the same stuff - what you're allowed to do, legally, to keep students from injuring themselves or each other in case of a melee or some such. This year, the bureaucrats down in Boston finally saw reason and reinstated the throat punch.) Of course, I work at a district so bucolic that one of my students, when told why I wouldn't be in the classroom Friday, asked, without irony, "Why would you need that in a high school?"
At the end of the workday I came home, grabbed the kids, and headed south again to have pizza and movie night the way Papi does it - in style. (Which is to say: the way we do it when no one in the house knows how to actually make a pizza.) We went to eat at Pizzatella and watch "Bolt" on the day of its global release at the Berkshire Mall. After a quick stop at the side of the road at the suggestion of one of Massachusetts' finest. (I had a tail light out, apparently - T cried as we sat and waited, afraid we'd miss the movie; when I assured her, after being told what the issue was and while we waited for him to run our plates, that we weren't being ticketed, that this would take five minutes tops, she kept crying, but changed the reason: "I don't want to waste our time!") The kids were spectacularly well-behaved, and a grand time was had by all. Except for when T dropped her little blue plastic mouse, which she had purchased with the tickets that the "Squash-a-Spider" machine had spit out following her very good run. I had to jog back out to the concession stand and ask for a flashlight so I could crawl around in the stale butter and juju-bees until I found the worthless little trinket, which she had infused with a great deal of love over the previous hour and a half. Still, it wasn't so bad - I came out the other end looking like a hero.
When we came out, there were scads of teenagers lined up waiting to get in and see "Twilight". Among them were many of my students, in a huge group, all of them female, and they squealed with delight upon seeing...Q and T. They got a good look at Q, but T buried her face in my shoulder the whole time we were near them. It was nice to see them outside a school context - I remember seeing my teachers in shorts and tee-shirts at different points when I was young, and it was a very healthy adjustment for me to see them as actual people. Though it did kind of remove some of their magic.
Saturday morning, we loaded into car and went to Caretaker Farm, Stop & Shop, Wild oats, and the hardware store - because there has been rodent trouble of late.
All revolving around the birdfeeders. The larger rodent issue is the squirrels that continually eat the birdseed out of the feeders. Readers of my facebook page will know that I want to get a slingshot and shoot chickpeas at them to dissuade them - the tennis balls we lob from the deck just haven't been accurate or effective. I think they find them entertaining, honestly. But until I can manage a foray out of state, the slingshot purchase will have to wait. Because, as Dave, of Dave's Sporting Goods, said to me over the phone on Thursday: "Not in the State of Massachusetts. I can sell you a .44 Magnum, but I can't sell you a slingshot." First the throat punch, now this.
Until my contraband Wrist Rocket is in place, I've had to come up with an alternate plan, and have taken to sneaking out our back door with a hatchet in my hand. Why a hatchet? You certainly don't think I plan to harm them! These are town squirrels - killing one would be like killing the pigeons that eat out of your hand at the park, or the revered and holy cows that wander the streets of Des Moines. No, no. I don't try to kill them. Instead I creep as close as I can before one of them sees me, then charge the rest of the way, and as they scramble up the chain-link fence around the yard I underhand flip the hatchet in their direction. What are the odds I'll ever hit one? It clatters and bangs against the fence and scares them to absolute death - they sprint across the neighbor's yard for a good fifty yards before taking to a tree again. It's been very effective.
Today, when I charged, three of the four there gathered beat it in short order - but a fourth, the most daring, still clung to the sunflower seed feeder. He was turned in such a way that he couldn't see me - I could see his back side hanging off to the right, but his head was behind the feeder. And he waited there, not sure what to do or what the threat was. This is a very stupid squirrel, who probably deserved, in a Darwinian way, to be cloven in two there as he hung suspended between the feeder and the ground.
And keep in mind, I eat squirrels.
I barreled down on him, hatchet in hand, not believing how close he was going to let me get, wondering, in that split second, whether anyone had before stalked and hand-killed a wild - Spoiled, sure, but still technically wild - squirrel. So I raised my hatchet -
...and I poked him in the behind with it.
Hard, I must say. I was running, after all. He (she?) flew spraddle-legged and panicked off the feeder and crashed through the fence. I could actually feel the squirm and spasm of his (her?) terror through the handle of the hatchet - a live and wriggling jolt straight from (ah, screw it) its heinie to my hand.
And after that little incident, which took place this morning around 11:00, I did not see a single squirrel back there all day.
But I still want a slingshot.
The other rodent-related birdseed caper, which was the reason for the stop at the hardware store, is a chipmunk that had burrowed into the garage through a gap in the lowest...I don't know, "rung", I guess, of siding at the back of the house, and could regularly be seen scrambling off the shelf where I keep the bird seed, across the floor, and back under the woodpile when I'd go into the garage. I was concerned about how he might be getting in, so I moved the whole woodpile last week and found the entry point. I then took some nails and closed off the hole forever - and in subsequent days, Janneke observed him from the patio door, running back and forth, trying to jump up toward his former point of entry.
This little sunflower addict must have been waiting at the door when I charged out after the squirrels, leaving it banging open behind me, because even after closing off his entry point, I kept seeing him in there.
This was bad. He had no way out now - if he got in while I chased squirrels (or when the garage door was left open), he'd be trapped, and would probably have to try to chew his way out. If we leave the doors open in hope that he'll get out, how do we know for sure we're not just letting him in again? He's cute and all, I said to Janneke, but he's got to go.
So I took advantage of Janneke's absence this weekend and purchased a rat trap.
And I will simply say this: They are highly effective.
And I bravely stood up to all these rodential challenges without a helpmeet, with wailing, clinging brats impeding my every move with their endless tooth-brushings and behind-wipings and in-tuckings. Q made things easier by going away Saturday night for a sleepover birthday party, which left T and me to go out and have a night on the town.
T picked the restaurant in the car on the way back from dropping Q off, hollering it in wide-eyed glee as soon as I solicited ideas.
"COYOTE FLACO!"
Run by Ecuadorians, it's Williamstown's only Mexican restaurant. And as anyone who knows me well can attest, I could eat mexican food every day until I die and would never complain. T had crispy tacos and avocados (her own and mine), and I had a plate of enchiladas. And we shared the utter bliss of a cold, sparkling bottle of Mexican soda, made with actual, honest-to-Go sugar. The Mexicans, being a fine and wise people, simply refuse to drink anything with corn syrup in it. Try it some time - go get a Mexican soda from your local Mexican grocer's, and keep in mind as you try it that it isn't just different. It's better.
That was last night. Today we had pancakes, and then T did a lot of self-directed play while I took the underwear off the lampshades and mopped up the tequila and otherwise removed evidence in anticipation of Janneke's return this afternoon. We picked up Q around 10:30, and had leftover pancakes for lunch - in the afternoon, T's pal Hazel came over, and between that and the Fox Soccer Channel (Q's new favorite pastime), I was free to continue wiping up the bloodstains.
(Of which, all kidding and hyperbole aside, there actually was one this weekend. Like I said: Highly effective.)
The evening's fun came when I realized that, when I had cracked open the well holding the failed tail light, and had discovered that by simply twisting it, I could, as if by magic, re-activate the offending bulb, I had simply walked away, happy with myself - and left the lights on. So I had to jump start the Prius - a car with a thousand-pound battery in it. The irony! But it didn't take long, and it allowed me to erase my image as forgetful buffoon with still another in a long series of images of steely-eyed manliness - this time, automotive, rather than man-versus-nature. Either one works.
And that's it, in a nutshell. Janneke came home and the rest is history. So I'll sign off, having brought you up to speed, and having made Williamstown safe again for sunflower seeds. Take care, be in touch, and, as always: Don't tell Janneke.
Because back at the ranch was where the rubber hit the road. Back where no one reimburses us for our travel, where there's no complementary cocktails and no Christmas room at the B&B. Back where two kids have hungry mouths that need to be fed, there's a pile of laundry sky-high, outdone only by the tower of dishes and the dog that's clamoring to be walked at the end of a long, hard day in the salt mines of public education. Back in the real America.
Ronadh was instrumental in my foray into single parenthood. She let me dump - er, drop off the kids at her house around 6:45 Friday morning, which allowed me to get to work on time for a day of restraint training. Kid rasslin', as I like to put it. (I get re-certified every year. It's usually the same stuff - what you're allowed to do, legally, to keep students from injuring themselves or each other in case of a melee or some such. This year, the bureaucrats down in Boston finally saw reason and reinstated the throat punch.) Of course, I work at a district so bucolic that one of my students, when told why I wouldn't be in the classroom Friday, asked, without irony, "Why would you need that in a high school?"
At the end of the workday I came home, grabbed the kids, and headed south again to have pizza and movie night the way Papi does it - in style. (Which is to say: the way we do it when no one in the house knows how to actually make a pizza.) We went to eat at Pizzatella and watch "Bolt" on the day of its global release at the Berkshire Mall. After a quick stop at the side of the road at the suggestion of one of Massachusetts' finest. (I had a tail light out, apparently - T cried as we sat and waited, afraid we'd miss the movie; when I assured her, after being told what the issue was and while we waited for him to run our plates, that we weren't being ticketed, that this would take five minutes tops, she kept crying, but changed the reason: "I don't want to waste our time!") The kids were spectacularly well-behaved, and a grand time was had by all. Except for when T dropped her little blue plastic mouse, which she had purchased with the tickets that the "Squash-a-Spider" machine had spit out following her very good run. I had to jog back out to the concession stand and ask for a flashlight so I could crawl around in the stale butter and juju-bees until I found the worthless little trinket, which she had infused with a great deal of love over the previous hour and a half. Still, it wasn't so bad - I came out the other end looking like a hero.
When we came out, there were scads of teenagers lined up waiting to get in and see "Twilight". Among them were many of my students, in a huge group, all of them female, and they squealed with delight upon seeing...Q and T. They got a good look at Q, but T buried her face in my shoulder the whole time we were near them. It was nice to see them outside a school context - I remember seeing my teachers in shorts and tee-shirts at different points when I was young, and it was a very healthy adjustment for me to see them as actual people. Though it did kind of remove some of their magic.
Saturday morning, we loaded into car and went to Caretaker Farm, Stop & Shop, Wild oats, and the hardware store - because there has been rodent trouble of late.
All revolving around the birdfeeders. The larger rodent issue is the squirrels that continually eat the birdseed out of the feeders. Readers of my facebook page will know that I want to get a slingshot and shoot chickpeas at them to dissuade them - the tennis balls we lob from the deck just haven't been accurate or effective. I think they find them entertaining, honestly. But until I can manage a foray out of state, the slingshot purchase will have to wait. Because, as Dave, of Dave's Sporting Goods, said to me over the phone on Thursday: "Not in the State of Massachusetts. I can sell you a .44 Magnum, but I can't sell you a slingshot." First the throat punch, now this.
Until my contraband Wrist Rocket is in place, I've had to come up with an alternate plan, and have taken to sneaking out our back door with a hatchet in my hand. Why a hatchet? You certainly don't think I plan to harm them! These are town squirrels - killing one would be like killing the pigeons that eat out of your hand at the park, or the revered and holy cows that wander the streets of Des Moines. No, no. I don't try to kill them. Instead I creep as close as I can before one of them sees me, then charge the rest of the way, and as they scramble up the chain-link fence around the yard I underhand flip the hatchet in their direction. What are the odds I'll ever hit one? It clatters and bangs against the fence and scares them to absolute death - they sprint across the neighbor's yard for a good fifty yards before taking to a tree again. It's been very effective.
Today, when I charged, three of the four there gathered beat it in short order - but a fourth, the most daring, still clung to the sunflower seed feeder. He was turned in such a way that he couldn't see me - I could see his back side hanging off to the right, but his head was behind the feeder. And he waited there, not sure what to do or what the threat was. This is a very stupid squirrel, who probably deserved, in a Darwinian way, to be cloven in two there as he hung suspended between the feeder and the ground.
And keep in mind, I eat squirrels.
I barreled down on him, hatchet in hand, not believing how close he was going to let me get, wondering, in that split second, whether anyone had before stalked and hand-killed a wild - Spoiled, sure, but still technically wild - squirrel. So I raised my hatchet -
...and I poked him in the behind with it.
Hard, I must say. I was running, after all. He (she?) flew spraddle-legged and panicked off the feeder and crashed through the fence. I could actually feel the squirm and spasm of his (her?) terror through the handle of the hatchet - a live and wriggling jolt straight from (ah, screw it) its heinie to my hand.
And after that little incident, which took place this morning around 11:00, I did not see a single squirrel back there all day.
But I still want a slingshot.
The other rodent-related birdseed caper, which was the reason for the stop at the hardware store, is a chipmunk that had burrowed into the garage through a gap in the lowest...I don't know, "rung", I guess, of siding at the back of the house, and could regularly be seen scrambling off the shelf where I keep the bird seed, across the floor, and back under the woodpile when I'd go into the garage. I was concerned about how he might be getting in, so I moved the whole woodpile last week and found the entry point. I then took some nails and closed off the hole forever - and in subsequent days, Janneke observed him from the patio door, running back and forth, trying to jump up toward his former point of entry.
This little sunflower addict must have been waiting at the door when I charged out after the squirrels, leaving it banging open behind me, because even after closing off his entry point, I kept seeing him in there.
This was bad. He had no way out now - if he got in while I chased squirrels (or when the garage door was left open), he'd be trapped, and would probably have to try to chew his way out. If we leave the doors open in hope that he'll get out, how do we know for sure we're not just letting him in again? He's cute and all, I said to Janneke, but he's got to go.
So I took advantage of Janneke's absence this weekend and purchased a rat trap.
And I will simply say this: They are highly effective.
And I bravely stood up to all these rodential challenges without a helpmeet, with wailing, clinging brats impeding my every move with their endless tooth-brushings and behind-wipings and in-tuckings. Q made things easier by going away Saturday night for a sleepover birthday party, which left T and me to go out and have a night on the town.
T picked the restaurant in the car on the way back from dropping Q off, hollering it in wide-eyed glee as soon as I solicited ideas.
"COYOTE FLACO!"
Run by Ecuadorians, it's Williamstown's only Mexican restaurant. And as anyone who knows me well can attest, I could eat mexican food every day until I die and would never complain. T had crispy tacos and avocados (her own and mine), and I had a plate of enchiladas. And we shared the utter bliss of a cold, sparkling bottle of Mexican soda, made with actual, honest-to-Go sugar. The Mexicans, being a fine and wise people, simply refuse to drink anything with corn syrup in it. Try it some time - go get a Mexican soda from your local Mexican grocer's, and keep in mind as you try it that it isn't just different. It's better.
That was last night. Today we had pancakes, and then T did a lot of self-directed play while I took the underwear off the lampshades and mopped up the tequila and otherwise removed evidence in anticipation of Janneke's return this afternoon. We picked up Q around 10:30, and had leftover pancakes for lunch - in the afternoon, T's pal Hazel came over, and between that and the Fox Soccer Channel (Q's new favorite pastime), I was free to continue wiping up the bloodstains.
(Of which, all kidding and hyperbole aside, there actually was one this weekend. Like I said: Highly effective.)
The evening's fun came when I realized that, when I had cracked open the well holding the failed tail light, and had discovered that by simply twisting it, I could, as if by magic, re-activate the offending bulb, I had simply walked away, happy with myself - and left the lights on. So I had to jump start the Prius - a car with a thousand-pound battery in it. The irony! But it didn't take long, and it allowed me to erase my image as forgetful buffoon with still another in a long series of images of steely-eyed manliness - this time, automotive, rather than man-versus-nature. Either one works.
And that's it, in a nutshell. Janneke came home and the rest is history. So I'll sign off, having brought you up to speed, and having made Williamstown safe again for sunflower seeds. Take care, be in touch, and, as always: Don't tell Janneke.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Correspondence
A few documents that have passed through the ranch of late, verbatim:
Front side of crumpled paper found at the bottom of Q's backpack:
"Q
"Donna
"Letter"
Other side, originally folded in:
"Q
"I know you are a smart child in the school. I think you are very asome."
And another, this time a letter addressed to Miss T Johnstadt, and accompanied by a roll of stickers, three State quarters, and a crisp dollar bill:
"Dear Granddaughter;
"Just a note to go along with the important stuff in the envelope.
"Blue is laying here guarding me. He is a killer dog. He kills things he doesn't like. Its a good thing he likes you & Q. He doesn't like rats & mice and skunks, and racoons, woodchucks, snakes, moles and some other tings. I think he likes you best.
"I love you too.
"Grandpa John"
In case you don't know about Blue, here's a picture, which I believe I posted here previously:
Yesterday evening after supper, Q climbed into my lap where I sat at the table and asked me to tickle him. I asked if he thought he could keep his arms raised while I did so. He said, "What will you give me?" I said, "If you can keep your arms up while I tickle you for one minute, I'll give you five dollars."
He thought about it, twitching spasmodically as he did so, and finally agreed. A couple of false starts later, he thrust both high in the air and, wild-eyed, began pre-emptively howling.
I tickled that boy pretty darn mercilessly as I slowly counted to sixty, and by God if he didn't keep his arms up the entire time. Wriggling, squealing, laughing screaming, wailing, writhing - and I never let up, even though I was laughing so hard myself that my stomach muscles still hurt today. I don't think I've ever laughed that solidly, for that extended a period, for decades. Janneke and T looked on in horror from the opposite end of the table, also laughing but also sympathetically suffering.
If that boy ever ends up a POW, he's going to pull a John McCain and spit in their eye as they string him up.
Except when he comes back, he won't turn into a jackass.
Front side of crumpled paper found at the bottom of Q's backpack:
"Q
"Donna
"Letter"
Other side, originally folded in:
"Q
"I know you are a smart child in the school. I think you are very asome."
And another, this time a letter addressed to Miss T Johnstadt, and accompanied by a roll of stickers, three State quarters, and a crisp dollar bill:
"Dear Granddaughter;
"Just a note to go along with the important stuff in the envelope.
"Blue is laying here guarding me. He is a killer dog. He kills things he doesn't like. Its a good thing he likes you & Q. He doesn't like rats & mice and skunks, and racoons, woodchucks, snakes, moles and some other tings. I think he likes you best.
"I love you too.
"Grandpa John"
In case you don't know about Blue, here's a picture, which I believe I posted here previously:
Yesterday evening after supper, Q climbed into my lap where I sat at the table and asked me to tickle him. I asked if he thought he could keep his arms raised while I did so. He said, "What will you give me?" I said, "If you can keep your arms up while I tickle you for one minute, I'll give you five dollars."
He thought about it, twitching spasmodically as he did so, and finally agreed. A couple of false starts later, he thrust both high in the air and, wild-eyed, began pre-emptively howling.
I tickled that boy pretty darn mercilessly as I slowly counted to sixty, and by God if he didn't keep his arms up the entire time. Wriggling, squealing, laughing screaming, wailing, writhing - and I never let up, even though I was laughing so hard myself that my stomach muscles still hurt today. I don't think I've ever laughed that solidly, for that extended a period, for decades. Janneke and T looked on in horror from the opposite end of the table, also laughing but also sympathetically suffering.
If that boy ever ends up a POW, he's going to pull a John McCain and spit in their eye as they string him up.
Except when he comes back, he won't turn into a jackass.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Halloween Interpretive Dance
Really - I ain't kiddin'. This is what T and Q concocted off the cuff the other day, inspired by the season (which was still to arrive, as you can see by the distinctly non-rotten pumpkins that still adorn the floor). Q began playing the tune you hear, something of his own invention, and T grabbed the prop you'll see and away she went. They had gone through one iteration of it before Janneke alerted me to things and I scrambled to the front room with the camera.
In other news, tonight's supper was a particularly delicious and narratively interesting one, for the main dish consisted of two pheasants, prepared by Janneke and shot by me. (In reverse order.) Matt B, father of Alex, Q's best friend, had invited me to go out pheasant hunting, and he and his father and his father's dog and I drove to Hatfield, MA on Saturday morning to do just that. And I have to say, it is a way of hunting that I could definitely get used to.
Things to love about it: The dog is a thing of utter beauty. So well trained, so obedient, so dedicated and energetic, literally trembling with anticipation - but never, ever barking. If ever she got so far out ahead of us that she might spook a bird that would be too distant to shoot, Matt's dad would say, in a hardly-even-raised voice, "Gretchen, you're too far." And she would stop and wait. To watch her "get birdy", as Matt put it, and to stalk in after her and suddenly hear and feel the bird go up and draw on it and fire - What a thrill. The first bird we ("we" - Gretchen, I should say) found was a rooster, and the boys sent me in after it, as I was the guest. All day long they worked like crazy to get me as much shooting as they could, since this was my first time. And I actually saw it on the ground before it took off. Once it did fly, my first shot went wild, but the second, I feel confident, was pretty accurate. Of course, so were Matt's and his Dad's, so there's no telling who got it. But that was the first.
We kicked up another one in that field, but were unable to down it - I hadn't even gotten a look at it. And then were on to another, where Gretchen found and Matt jumped a hen out of the hedgerow between picked-over potato fields. (Hatfield has got to have the absolute best agricultural land on God's green earth. No stones, flat as a pancake, well-drained, and black as tar. Gorgeous. I think I grew an inch just from walking on it.) It was a hen, and it rose up and fluttered straight for me. Boom, and down it went, which brought cheers form both my partners. I have to say, I felt like I was ten years old, grinning ear to ear. I could definitely get used to that.
Things not to like: The birds are all raised and seeded to be shot, either by the state or by the town. Doesn't quite feel totally fair - but then again, without Gretchen, and without the hours of training (she goes out every, single, day to practice), we'd never have known they were there. So it's not as if there's no skill involved. And you do have to shoot a bird as it quickly flies away from you. That ain't easy.
So that was Saturday - I came home not only with both the day's birds, plucked and ready to cook, but with a recipe book. And today, Janneke prepared them. They were delicious.
And it's Janneke's birthday! We went out to the Blue Benn in Bennington to celebrate - it's one of those pre-fab diners from the 50's that you could get by mail and set up as an instant business. There's another one still standing in Adams, and this one in Bennington. Big fun, followed by a jaunt over to the big municipal park in Bennington with the gimungous wooden castles for the kids to climb in. Janneke and I groused loudly to a man who didn't pick up after his dog. His cleverest retort: "Shut up!"
We had a lot of interesting talk with the kids about the whole incident afterward...Home to leaf-raking, birdfeeder-filling, laundry-doing, kid-tickling and other domestic tasks. I even managed to follow the Packers online as they failed to win the game with a 52-yard field goal and lost their third or fourth by three points or less. It's starting to get to me- I'll have to swear off them. I mean, I didn't even see the game, and I'm spittin' mad about it.
Professional development day tomorrow, followed by a day off Tuesday. Updates as time allows!
In other news, tonight's supper was a particularly delicious and narratively interesting one, for the main dish consisted of two pheasants, prepared by Janneke and shot by me. (In reverse order.) Matt B, father of Alex, Q's best friend, had invited me to go out pheasant hunting, and he and his father and his father's dog and I drove to Hatfield, MA on Saturday morning to do just that. And I have to say, it is a way of hunting that I could definitely get used to.
Things to love about it: The dog is a thing of utter beauty. So well trained, so obedient, so dedicated and energetic, literally trembling with anticipation - but never, ever barking. If ever she got so far out ahead of us that she might spook a bird that would be too distant to shoot, Matt's dad would say, in a hardly-even-raised voice, "Gretchen, you're too far." And she would stop and wait. To watch her "get birdy", as Matt put it, and to stalk in after her and suddenly hear and feel the bird go up and draw on it and fire - What a thrill. The first bird we ("we" - Gretchen, I should say) found was a rooster, and the boys sent me in after it, as I was the guest. All day long they worked like crazy to get me as much shooting as they could, since this was my first time. And I actually saw it on the ground before it took off. Once it did fly, my first shot went wild, but the second, I feel confident, was pretty accurate. Of course, so were Matt's and his Dad's, so there's no telling who got it. But that was the first.
We kicked up another one in that field, but were unable to down it - I hadn't even gotten a look at it. And then were on to another, where Gretchen found and Matt jumped a hen out of the hedgerow between picked-over potato fields. (Hatfield has got to have the absolute best agricultural land on God's green earth. No stones, flat as a pancake, well-drained, and black as tar. Gorgeous. I think I grew an inch just from walking on it.) It was a hen, and it rose up and fluttered straight for me. Boom, and down it went, which brought cheers form both my partners. I have to say, I felt like I was ten years old, grinning ear to ear. I could definitely get used to that.
Things not to like: The birds are all raised and seeded to be shot, either by the state or by the town. Doesn't quite feel totally fair - but then again, without Gretchen, and without the hours of training (she goes out every, single, day to practice), we'd never have known they were there. So it's not as if there's no skill involved. And you do have to shoot a bird as it quickly flies away from you. That ain't easy.
So that was Saturday - I came home not only with both the day's birds, plucked and ready to cook, but with a recipe book. And today, Janneke prepared them. They were delicious.
And it's Janneke's birthday! We went out to the Blue Benn in Bennington to celebrate - it's one of those pre-fab diners from the 50's that you could get by mail and set up as an instant business. There's another one still standing in Adams, and this one in Bennington. Big fun, followed by a jaunt over to the big municipal park in Bennington with the gimungous wooden castles for the kids to climb in. Janneke and I groused loudly to a man who didn't pick up after his dog. His cleverest retort: "Shut up!"
We had a lot of interesting talk with the kids about the whole incident afterward...Home to leaf-raking, birdfeeder-filling, laundry-doing, kid-tickling and other domestic tasks. I even managed to follow the Packers online as they failed to win the game with a 52-yard field goal and lost their third or fourth by three points or less. It's starting to get to me- I'll have to swear off them. I mean, I didn't even see the game, and I'm spittin' mad about it.
Professional development day tomorrow, followed by a day off Tuesday. Updates as time allows!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)