Lately it seems as though the more I try to get physically organized, the greater the resulting mess.
I’m sure she wouldn’t be pleased to learn this, but all I have to do to feel considerably less overwhelmed with my own clutter is to witness firsthand what my “Big Sis” is dealing with at her two unfinished properties…
Garrison Keillor informs us that when the E-RI-E was a-rising, the gin was getting low, and so after all these years I now become aware that we’d been listening to a version of the folk song sanitized for children… Or that’s what I’m thinking, but James and I never did find the old record at the Blue Bank Hall today, and none of us could remember the lyrics that left out the reference to booze. I always figured those poor canal boaters ran out of water.
I don’t think July gets much nicer outside than this. I devoted much of the day to dealing with the west-side landscaping at the Town House. This is the zone that’s been the scene of two stolen property “ditches,” and it had to be opened up. Our neighbors hired a guy to clean up the brush on their side, so I followed up today with a drastic shrub trim on ours. The results are dramatic. Nobody is going to use that area as a hiding place now.
• The bewhiskered nugget hunter has gained the upper hand again, and he motivated me to string together one prospecting opportunity after another. Within a 24-hour period I worked the phone to get in to see the local economic developer (so I could pitch our Website services) and set into motion my Michigan contact for a greater regional outreach. I sat down with the director of a new social service agency and discussed their promotional challenges. After successfully following up with a banker who was impressed with our presence at the small biz conference, I stopped by to introduce myself to the principals of the new animation studio in Downtown Danville. Then I took a retired phone system executive to lunch at the Rotary Club. He’s moved to town to join a firm of mining consultants with contacts in South Africa and Russia. This evening we hit the political scene and panned for a bit of dust at a fundraiser, relaxing our long-standing aversion to campaign advertising assignments.
“That’s more like it… Reckon I oughta take the dang mule whip to him more often!”
. . . G B P . . .
Yes, it’s true that we’ve cut back dramatically on prepared foods and eliminated almost all meals out.
The result— I’ve been eating like a king!
The “Etch A Sketch” came easier to me than it did to most, but I never dreamed of doing work like this guy. Joan sent me the link to his site.
I suppose I’ve always had fairly decent eye-hand coordination. My sax fingering wasn’t that good, though; it had to do with rarely practicing, in addition to being able to blow on a reed, which I always detested at some fundamental level. Actually, I could have been a great bulldozer driver, or operated one of those tall cranes they use to build a skyscraper. Maybe I could even fly one of those Predator UAVs… Video games? You better believe I could do that, but I’ve never really allowed myself more than a dabble with Marty now and then. For me, doing more than that would be about as wise as trying rock cocaine.
Considering the fact that I’m the volunteer Webmaster for the Boyle County Republican Party Website, and it hasn’t been modified since before Election Day in 2004, it seems appropriate that I spend some of my 4th of July holiday updating the site for the 2006 campaigns. Patriotic as it sounds, it’s just another symptom of my metastatic pro bono condition. The Graybeard Prospector wants to drag me out back and give me a taste of his mule whip. He’d be within his rights.
I spoke to Chris P on the phone today and confirmed our reservation for the hilltop mobile home at Barefoot’s Resort this month. It’s ours from the 15th to the following Saturday morning. He said they’re having the best fishing season in over ten years. Lots of yellow perch and northern pike. Marty needs to pick out one of Joe Wood’s fishing poles for the trip. Joan was kind enough to offer him one a while back.
It’s clear that the cormorant control measures are finally kicking in, and the news is exciting. To restore the natural fishing pattern of the Les Cheneaux is the ultimate goal. As much as I love fishing for king salmon in the U.P., one has to recognize that the Michigan resource managers stocked those waters with salmon in response to the dwindling number of indigenous species. It’s only too obvious now that the introduction of non-native water fowl caused a devastating ecological imbalance that’s only now being successfully mitigated.
Conditions could hardly have been better on the second day of July for our bike ride early this morning. A 35-miler took us down through Moreland and out Black Pike, past where my brother Jay and his family used to live. Hustonville was quiet as a ghost town when we pedaled through, a perfect spot for our turnaround point. My pal Elisabeth was amused about winning the women’s division at the 5k in Stanford yesterday. She’s trying to figure out what to do with the huge trophy she was not expecting to bring home. A NYC artist who spends her summers in Lincoln County, she does quite a bit of running and cycling during her stays in Kentucky. She turns 50 later this year, and a good indication of her high fitness level is that I take ample satisfaction in ever being able to stay up with her on the road. When I asked her if she knew any sculptors, she laughed and said, “Lots!”
— Month of June workout totals: Swim-2; Bike-12; Run-1; Lift-5; Yoga-2
— All the other training took a back seat to my cycling this month, as I push to regain the conditioning I lost during 2005. The Tour started in France today without Armstrong, who, at age 35, is preparing to run the New York City Marathon. At age 36, Agassi played his final match at Wimbledon today. With all the talk of aging, legendary athletes, it’s interesting to note that both men are still in the acknowledged target zone for an endurance event like the triathlon. I don’t expect Agassi to do more than settle into his role as a retired tennis superstar after his U.S. Open appearance in New York, but I think Lance might be a very different story. If he demonstrates the ability to run an impressive 26.2-miler in his own New York performance a month later, just watch—and you read it here—for him to set his sights on the
Iron Man competition. How much time could he spot his opponents in the water before devastating the field on a bicycle and then finish strong with a marathon run? It’s interesting to contemplate. He won’t do it for sport. He’ll do it as a cancer fighter, and what better way to keep his cause before a world audience?
— As I continue to look for my next major novel, my bedtime reading jumps back and forth between Isaac Asimov and Ernest Hemingway. If you don’t think that’s a bit strange, you should try it some time. They do have one thing in common, however. When I’m reading either one, I’m struck by how profound an influence they appear to have had on succeeding generations of writers. Every creative person is influenced by those who come before, but few of us can push beyond the derivative and craft something new for others to emulate.
— I completed a proof of my “Bridget” comic this afternoon. I had a hard time convincing myself that it was finished, so I stopped and compared notes with Brendan. I was able to achieve the rough, sketchy look I desired, but some areas of the artwork still need refinement. Once I got past the storyboarding phase, which was genuinely challenging for me, I found deep satisfaction executing the drawing itself. No doubt I could get rather good at this if I tried it more that once or twice a year. I don’t expect to be getting urgent calls from Kazu Kibuishi any time soon, but I was very happy to learn that Brendan thought my effort looked “fantastic.”
I’m creating an illustrated version of Bridget this evening—as I promised… with a deadline glancing over my shoulder—as I hoped to avoid. My artwork needs to do justice to the story, and I know I’m fully capable of that.
Suddenly, cartooning is much more difficult for me than I remember it.
My mom and sister stopped by today to say hi and chat. All of us agreed that we need to take a vacation together, so we can just talk. I found out that Mombo has writings on her desktop that she hasn’t gotten around to posting. We need those MEMORIES!
‡ A copy of Flash Comics #1 sold at auction in Dallas for $273,125.
‡ To satisfy serious audiophiles, sound engineer Satoshi Imamura discovered how to mold advanced speaker cones by soaking birch wood in sake.
‡ Casey Stengel won ten pennants and seven world championships in 12 years when he managed the New York Yankees from 1949 through 1960.
‡ The miniature display of “The Greatest Show on Earth” at Sarasota’s Ringling Circus Museum contains 152 circus wagons, 700 animals, 1,500 performers and workers, and 7,000 folding chairs.
‡ In 1993, members of the American Medical Association had an average income of $170,000 per year.
‡ Competitive eater Sonya Thomas has eaten nearly ten pounds of Vienna sausage in ten minutes, just over eight pounds of baked beans in less than three minutes, and, most recently, 60 ham biscuits in eight minutes.
‡ Dairy cows should eat at least four percent of their body weight each day, which means that a 1,350-pound cow needs a minimum of 54 pounds of dry matter intake per day.
‡ In 2005, the Los Angeles Conservancy, along with seven other groups, sued the Los Angeles Unified School District to stop the demolition of the Ambassador Hotel, where R.F.K. was assassinated in the pantry off the Embassy Ballroom. The Kennedy family sided with the School District, which now owns the property. The daughter of a renowned black architect who worked on parts of the building sided with the Conservancy. The Mexican American Legal Defense and Educational Fund filed a brief to block their suit. In a separate court action to oppose the razing, the Committee to Preserve Assassination Sites joined with the lawyer of convicted assassin Sirhan Sirhan.
‡ Meanwhile, entertainer Britney Spears does 300 sit-ups a day.
Sorry, no links (they’ll just rot and stink up the place). You’ll have to trust me on all this…
I spent a good portion of today and yesterday cleaning out and organizing our stash of project files and “job jackets,” and I think I’ve hit on a key reason I’m so averse to throwing out personal papers and old records of past work. It must have something to do with a resistance to stirring up dormant feelings. To toss is to toss, but to conscientiously purge files while retaining only that which is valuable means reliving the emotional experiences, to some degree, both pleasant and unpleasant. For me, accepting this sheds light on another aspect of throwing things away—overcoming the apprehension of making a mistake or misjudgment, and inviting future emotions of loss or regret.
Some of this is downright crazy—rekindled emotions tied up with worries about emotions yet to come—and I can see why others just turn off the scrutiny and pitch away. There has to be a balance between the two forms of mild madness. One must not dread feelings from the past nor carry a fear of feelings yet to come, for both impinge on the equilibrium of the present. The past doesn’t exist, and the future is forever unreal. All we ever possess is the present. The continuous now is our only laboratory for the mastering of time and space.
Time… I’m spending it with my rubbish!
Space… I need more of it! Now!
• He overcame his childhood learning challenges to become the most highly educated and professionally accomplished member of the family—a Clan Treasure.
• Compassionate, open-minded, tireless, inquisitive—all the qualities one would hope for in a physician.
• More than a superb clinician, he’s truly earned the descriptive term of healer.
• Many call him friend—I’ve never seen a person more naturally comfortable in the role—and a generous one he is.
• He selected his mate as carefully as he picked his vocation. He chose both wisely. And now he investigates the responsibility of fatherhood with the same sincere, prayerful, conscientious approach.
• He could have given up. He could have carried hatred. He forgave instead, and unlocked the door to a lifetime of victories.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my “kid” brother. I love you, forever…
It’s been sorta push-push lately, so I think I’ll pause in Sabbath Mode until I restore both physical and cognitive abilities, and then it’s back to the grind.
“Why should I hasten to solve every riddle which life offers me? I am well assured that the Questioner, who brings me so many problems, will bring the answers also in due time. Very rich, very potent, very cheerful Giver that he is, he shall have it all his own way, for me.”
— Emerson
Five of us from Danville joined the morning bicycle ride (Frankfort to Versailles to Midway and back) as part of the “Share the Road” activities in the state capital today. It started to rain as we hauled our bikes north and it was still raining at 8 am when we left the St. Clair Mall en masse. The weather proved to be a clear deterrent to participation. There were only about 25 of us who set out, and the wet pavement caused two guys to crash within the first five miles. Steve and I opted to turn around at Versailles and got in over 40 miles before arriving at the Capitol for the “Share the Road” Rally. Martin and the two Dans did the full loop through Midway, but missed the speakers as a result. Sadly, I have to say they didn’t miss much. It started to sprinkle when we climbed back into the city via McCracken Pike and the buzz was that the rally had been cancelled. Organizers made the decision to proceed when the rain let up, but the governor had already been called away to a greater priority. Although I had the personal opportunity to network with a “Who’s Who” of cycling advocates from around Kentucky, the rally fell short of my expectations, and there was no one who came before the microphone that could articulate the full significance of the shift in policy. I didn’t see a single TV camera. I wouldn’t call it a bomb, but to say the potential for a decent media event had fizzled would not be an eggageration. Nevertheless, it was an interesting ride through a quintessentially Bluegrass region, with the Woodford Reserve estate and some of the most famous thoroughbred farms in the world. The crumbling Castlerock and Old Taylor Distilleries along Glenn’s Creek were visually fascinating. I’ve never seen anything like them. Somebody could make a helluva creepy motion picture on those grounds. Loan Andrew half a million to make a movie on location there and he could take the indie scene by storm…
• The Prospector and his Medicine Woman spent most of the day as exhibitors during the Small Business Development Conference at Bluegrass Community & Technical College. Their display was pure “scrounge,” but still the best in the room. Some of the most valuable networking took place with fellow exhibitors.
“Don’t take yer eyes off ’em— Dey feelin’ paydirt in d’bones.”
. . . G B P . . .
The pro-cycling community action group I helped organize raised its profile with a front-page story in Danville’s Advocate Messenger. In the print edition they used a quotation box with my cropped face. Dana thinks the expression looks “sour.” It wasn’t something over which I had much control, but I probably need to learn to smile more.
Most of what’s happening to make Kentucky more bicycle friendly is gaining momentum in the major metropolitan areas. It’s driven by municipal leaders and professional coordinators. That’s not true elsewhere in the state, and there needs to be a mechanism for harnessing the enthusiasm of local volunteers to promote shared byways and stimulate the planning, funding, and creation of bikeways, bike lanes, and multi-use trails.
B.I.K.E. | Boyle County may prove to be an effective model for smaller population centers and rural counties, but first we need to achieve something significant here at home.
I can’t remember the last time I had a tri-sport day, and I think I really needed it. I fit in 22 laps during a noon swim and had a decent rhythm. The pedals I got from Brian M are finally on my bike, so I did a ride test out to the staging area of the annual TWINKIE run. This event is about pace rather than speed, and the winner is the individual or two-person team closest to a predicted time. No watches allowed. I was 20 seconds under my declared 10,000-meter time (good enough for third place in the men’s division). With an emphasis on cycling, my swimming and running have suffered a bit this month, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. My stamina held up, but now I’m ready to hit the pillow.
There are times when only one solution to an intractable problem is feasible—dare to redefine the dilemma entirely.
If one no longer finds merit in reaching the ocean floor, one would hardly require a submarine. Perhaps a sailboat is more than adequate, and the same body of water is crossed with unforseen tranquility.