After my third time warming the bath last night I began to wonder about water. (Every so often I enjoy a long bath, a really long bath. This is a reaction to my time of going weeks without a good cleansing, times change. And I really enjoy my new aquatic learning tools). Floating in the tub reminded me of the time spent bring down trees with my uncles. We would chop them, drag them with the mules, and then float them to the mill.
Water is the great choice when trying to move a huge tree from the forest down to the mill in order to make some floor boards for the neighbor’s house. Have you ever noticed that mills are near a river or stream? Party this local is to harness the strength of the river to power the saw blade. But another great reason is to float your newly felled tree with the water and not break your back in the process. The current can work for you and carry the load.
You can also go with the current when transporting your long boat through the narrow straights surrounding the arctic north. The water knows where it is able to go, and the current will tell you where you’ll be able to go as well. The ship’s pilot still needs to be vigilant and watch for glacier peaks, but on the whole the current can work for you.
Beyond the bath tub and the occasional trip to the beach I am not around water that often. But I still see the influence of currents. I see currents working in my social and financial life. Books that my friends like are the ones I want to read next. Music that is held in high regard by people I trust deserves a listen. The people that know about saving and how to find a deal are the ones I want hanging around.
I do my best to keep these streams of influence small. Many friends and acquaintances have drove head first into quickly moving rapids of social fun only to find out they need a floatation device. The new computer ploy to take my money and time is not a current I want to move with. Find yourself a group of frugal fun loving folks are you are free to float. Just be sure the current is not guiding you toward a saw mill. That blade will tear you two ways to Tuesday. (For real, don’t mess with that. I knew a guy once, I won’t go into it, but he doesn’t play cards any more, or the guitar. He’s got Velcro sneakers; it’s sad). All I’m saying is you have to stay aware while you float.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Nesting
The nesting instinct is real. Lest you doubt, take for example the cardinals in my back yard. (As an aside, I live in an affordable row home in a large North Eastern City, and I have a back yard with trees, I love our realtor). Back to the majestic birds with the deep red plumage preparing nests in our yard. At this time of year the yard is alive with transition.
The grass is preparing to grow strong and thick, the crocuses are beginning to bloom, and the daffodils are on deck to display their deep yellows. But these grounded changes are slow in comparison to the flittering above the vegetation. The birds are preparing their spaces for the coming brood. Especially busy is the female cardinal. She flies back and forth through the yard collecting material for the nest as her bright red partner keeps a protective eye.
In her natural habitat the North American Pregnant Spouse (NAPS) is not so different. My wife is one of 10 intimates that are going to add to their brood in the next month or two. And goodness is our house flittering with activity.
Up to this hour we have; cleaned the car inside and out, built new shelves and subsequently redistributed the contents of the basement, cleared the old growth from the garden, installed new exterior doors, revamped the budget with all the necessary debates and agreements, made a list to track the lists that we will need to complete, packed a bag, assembled the crib, vacuumed with abandon, stocked the freezer, and ordered pizza. It’s been a good morning.
Like the male cardinal I mostly stood watch and added opinions when needed. I enjoyed the construction in the basement and cleaning the car. But mostly I am here to lift heavy things and give a reassuring nod.
The grass is preparing to grow strong and thick, the crocuses are beginning to bloom, and the daffodils are on deck to display their deep yellows. But these grounded changes are slow in comparison to the flittering above the vegetation. The birds are preparing their spaces for the coming brood. Especially busy is the female cardinal. She flies back and forth through the yard collecting material for the nest as her bright red partner keeps a protective eye.
In her natural habitat the North American Pregnant Spouse (NAPS) is not so different. My wife is one of 10 intimates that are going to add to their brood in the next month or two. And goodness is our house flittering with activity.
Up to this hour we have; cleaned the car inside and out, built new shelves and subsequently redistributed the contents of the basement, cleared the old growth from the garden, installed new exterior doors, revamped the budget with all the necessary debates and agreements, made a list to track the lists that we will need to complete, packed a bag, assembled the crib, vacuumed with abandon, stocked the freezer, and ordered pizza. It’s been a good morning.
Like the male cardinal I mostly stood watch and added opinions when needed. I enjoyed the construction in the basement and cleaning the car. But mostly I am here to lift heavy things and give a reassuring nod.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Consider the vegetable
Looking back over my week I recognize that I have not eaten any meat. I have enjoyed noodles, veggies, and even pizza with no meat in sight. I am considering being vegetarian.
I’m not considering if I want to be a vegetarian, I know that answer. I’m considering what it means to be a vegetarian. For instance, is there a time threshold you must cross before you can claim the title. “I have not consumed meat for one full month, I am now a vegetarian.” Or do you claim the title and then live into the reality, something like, “from this day forward I am a vegetarian, bring on the quinoa.”
Image you are on a boat somewhere off the coast of Greenland. You and the crew have been out to sea for many days, possibly weeks. You have eaten the meat rations and all that is left are potatoes and continually souring cabbage in a big wooden barrel. The boat is not in any danger of running out of these and other life sustaining options. But gone are the days of braised rabbit over field greens. Are you now on a boat full of vegetarians?
Now you know full well that once the boat gets back to shore every person will walk their leather boots to the local tavern for fresh water and a big hunk of an animal’s leg. Every one of them will relish the tearing and chomping of the whole ordeal. But while on the boat they had no meat; vegetarians?
Or you are on the farm in early spring. Flowers are blooming and the young animals are learning to walk on their spindly legs. It will be months until any of these new young are ready for the grill, so we eat from the bounty of the garden. The season is filled with steamed vegetables and wonderful salads. Are we currently vegetarians, or simply waiting for the day when the bird is plump enough for the feathers to be ripped off and the skin to crackle over the charcoal?
So if this week has been filled with pizza but no pepperonis, spaghetti with no meat balls, and salads topped with bacon bits that never knew a pig, can I call myself a vegetarian? Or should I wait a week or two before I claim the title?
I’m not considering if I want to be a vegetarian, I know that answer. I’m considering what it means to be a vegetarian. For instance, is there a time threshold you must cross before you can claim the title. “I have not consumed meat for one full month, I am now a vegetarian.” Or do you claim the title and then live into the reality, something like, “from this day forward I am a vegetarian, bring on the quinoa.”
Image you are on a boat somewhere off the coast of Greenland. You and the crew have been out to sea for many days, possibly weeks. You have eaten the meat rations and all that is left are potatoes and continually souring cabbage in a big wooden barrel. The boat is not in any danger of running out of these and other life sustaining options. But gone are the days of braised rabbit over field greens. Are you now on a boat full of vegetarians?
Now you know full well that once the boat gets back to shore every person will walk their leather boots to the local tavern for fresh water and a big hunk of an animal’s leg. Every one of them will relish the tearing and chomping of the whole ordeal. But while on the boat they had no meat; vegetarians?
Or you are on the farm in early spring. Flowers are blooming and the young animals are learning to walk on their spindly legs. It will be months until any of these new young are ready for the grill, so we eat from the bounty of the garden. The season is filled with steamed vegetables and wonderful salads. Are we currently vegetarians, or simply waiting for the day when the bird is plump enough for the feathers to be ripped off and the skin to crackle over the charcoal?
So if this week has been filled with pizza but no pepperonis, spaghetti with no meat balls, and salads topped with bacon bits that never knew a pig, can I call myself a vegetarian? Or should I wait a week or two before I claim the title?
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