perhaps adagio molto is the proper description of the morning…

sunshine in the morning

Hi there. How’s it going? Well, I hope.

somehow, Hali figures out how to get a nap in

I hope you had the joy of getting up from a fairly restful night, enjoying some fresh air with the window open a bit, and repairing to the sofa to let Hali stretch out and end up with her head on your leg, as the breeze from the front window allowed you to note that yes, it’s kinda nice outside.
Did you then – after a really good snuggle and song session (I’ve got a tongue, and I’m not afraid to use it // I have a tail, and I’m not afraid to wag it // I like the skritches around my ears // and I have frog-butt sometimes when I stretch out long dog style and hi – can I lick you? // er, chorus??) before Boo woke up and joined you on the couch so that Hali got both head AND butt skritches?

I see you out there, taking photographs of me

When you stepped outside so that Hali could get her morning constitutional, did she then just stand on the front stoop for about 5 minutes just taking in the really nice day that was beginning? How taking a seat on the stoop worked for both of you – you could just relax and look at the moss on the ground in front of you and ponder – was it mossy two days ago? Huh. And she just took in the day from the top of the stoop – did you catch her head in the shadows off towards Adrienne’s house? I like it how she might be excited to go out, but then the full stop of just being there, no rush to the yard, or to chase any furry friends she might have out in the yard. Very zen of her.

There weren’t the abundance of bunnies and squirrels that tends to be our yard this morning – can only assume nature was all ‘oh, yeeeaaahhhh…. low 60s is sleeping weather… niiiiicccceeee’ and thus, as the sun crept into the sky above Henry’s place, our forest of DOOOOMMMMM filtering the rays of bright and joy, our freshly cut grass awash in dewy dampness, Hali and I just were. Very Tao, very Pooh if you ask me.

Finally Hali climbed, laboriously down the steps to investigate the slate stepping stone right in front of the stoop – was that a little ant? or a bug? or a caterpillar many legged thing? they moved swiftly from (or onto) her prodding nose – on a side note, do dogs need to blow their noses? Hali has on occasion taken to sniffing the ground by slamming her head nose first into the firmament. It strikes me as a non-gentle sniff (would a rose smell not as sweet?) – but, she carries on, unfazed, pursuing whatever it is she’s on the trail of.

Our wandering into the side yard (huh, I do have two of those – our ‘big’ side yard, Henry’s side) produced just more niceness – I’ve made the realization that though I’m no fan of our towering trees they do make a nice wind block, and on our warm summer nights a cool breeze over by the Eastern Pines makes me want to set up a small patio, so that I know to head there and relax. In the mornings I tend to ponder the brightening that takes place at the tops of the trees first, making the tree tops golden and lush, beckoning my inner 10 year old to clamber on up and take a look-see. Sigh. Where in the world can our Calvins run free, I ask.

Hali likes to confound a rigidist’s morning routine – sometimes she’s off to the quad, at the front of the side yard, right next to Henry’s Alfas – the squirrels love to sprint up the towering pines to escape her.
Other times she’s after the bunny that sits just back from the quad along the Eastern Pines – frozen – not sure what to do next as Hali gets all ‘oh, hey – look, there, I can go sniff it, please please please please please please’ taught on her leash. Bunny finally makes an exit towards the thick undergrowth at the fence between Henry’s place and ours – I am often pleased by Hali’s quiet attention, but not outright bat-shit-crazy, which she reserves for post and parcel delivery people. Who on earth taught her that?

So we walked on the house side of the lawn, down past the office bumpout, past the oh so nice and silent AC condenser unit, past our shiny instant hot water boiler box thingy, to the thin yet surprisingly tall maple at the corner of the house and back deck and poop-lands fence, where the monkey grass grows tall. It’s her fascination spot of the week, and I can deal with that. I just have to keep my legs moving so as to defeat the vicious attack by the hordes of mosquitos that thrive and love us soooooooo much. Sigh.

We continue our circumnavigation of the big side yard, allowing a few moments of lovely morning unsilence – the wind in the trees give a light rustle, while a few peeps of birds keeps the rhythm undanceable. There comes a time – inevitably – when our back neighbor’s shepherd starts the ‘hey – hey – hey – hey – hey – hey – heyheyheyheyhey’ staccato bark of a family pup kept at the back of the yard. Thankfully he’s not alone along our back fence line, and the chorus they all end up creating is often more punk than even the Sex Pistols in their hey-weekend (did it really last much longer?). Among our blessings is that Hali isn’t very vocal (except people at our door) so she’s all non-chalant and just keeps strolling the boundary of our yard.

Just keep strolling – that’s some damn fine advice I suspect.

It was a very nice stroll with Hali this morning. She took her time. I followed her lead and enjoyed our time outside. It was very very nice, so that made it easy. There have been moments these past weeks, where she heads out and doesn’t make it more than two strides into a sunny patch. Typically around noon. Where she lies down to bake. Oh how she loves to sun-dog. Just like Blue did. 

a warm dog is a happy dog. miss ya girl…

“Tell us one positive thing you’ve learned about yourself this past year (does not have to be academic or course related” – so said the instructions in my English 112, Argumentative Research class, in preparation for our Writing Assignment 03 – Oral Presentation (is that ironic?) – and thus I shared with my not-so-strangers-anymore class of 17 fine folks how through the loss and pain and sadness that I have for Blue, our heart and home was capable of making space for and accepting the love offered by Halitron. Love that shows up in a slow chautauqua of our yard.

such lovely wonder

What positive thing did you learn about yourself this past year?

ciao,

}S{ | dona nobis pacem |

“Keep Calm and Carry On” or “Keep Calm … and Cupcakes!”

{{8:29a + 26July2013 = Friday morn || beethoven’s symphony no. 1 in C major by Wyn Morris and the LSO}}

steady as it goes, chin up, look into the future

Halitron gets a good nap in … between sleep sessions

A few day to go – and I have much joy in flipping through the pictures I’ve taken. But I won’t make my goal. I’m hoping to get halfway there – another 60 or so pushed to the Book of Faces. So, more of a 44:182.5 – you ok with that?

Halitron keeps an eye on the side yard from the bed

What’s that – why am I having an issue?
Well, see it’s like this. It’s been tough looking at the pics from the past year, and ironically as I head back to see if I have any gems that need to be shown to the world the images I run into from late July, August, September, October, November … well. Let’s just say I get thinking I’m going to be able to just shuffle through and keep and eye out for potential “oh, that’s a nice one Scott” and “I like what the colors do to the scene” or perhaps a “wow – you’ve nailed the Hegelian dialectic perfectly with this composition – butterfly atop partridge, nibbling bread crust – bravo good sir!!”

All I get to is the hundreds of pictures of Blue. And I feel all sad and pissed and angry and bummed and annoyed and happy and … well. You can see that this might impact the sifting process when I only have ~25,000 snaps to get through. Kinda gotta find a bit of umph to make this final push.

If only Halitron could find a comfy spot to relax… sigh.

So yeah, got this on my mind.It’s not completely soul crushing, but since it’s not just Blue I have moments with from the past 12 months the going is slow and rough. I do find gems though, and that makes me smile.
Other things to smile about include the fabulous words I get to ponder from my classwork – my English 112 class turned out to be one of those great moments in fate – engaged instructor, provocative topics and a great textbook.

So know you know what’s going on if you tune in to “Scott’s wild and crazy photo album” at Facebook – just trying to finish up something I tried to do.

Hope you’re getting to the things that mean something to you and yours, and you’re finding a sense of pride and joy in those accomplishments.

ciao,

}S{ | dona nobis pacem |

“Keep Calm and Carry On” or “Keep Calm … and Cupcakes!”

{{11:03a + 19July2013 = Friday morn || Good chance it’s Brian Eno on KEXP, but perhaps not… 6 degrees of Sharon …}}

words can express…

 they must be able to express. however, they may end up meaning nothing.

I’m watching the state I live in fall asunder, lost on the high seas of smugness. Not one single thing the leadership has chosen to act on will lead us to reknowned and respected heights. There is no JPL being crafted, no Los Alamos for our future – it’s rich assholes acting like rich entitled assholes – and those of us who have not enough money to get the assholes’ attention are left un-empowered.

Except, just maybe – with our words.
It’s what’s noodling in the back of my brain bucket even as I create a 10GB folder with pictures of Izzy for Morgan and Beth to enjoy. Even as I craft witty responses to how Window’s deals with 3D graphics cards for my Comp Tech Support class:

Windows has the power (and with it, the responsibility) to control 3D graphics, and they call it… DirectX. Invoking dxdiag at the run command shines the tiniest spotlight on the inside of your PC case, where you then end up with a bat cave where the fumes from the jet engine never overcame the old gent who kept secrets so well. Odd. Also, not only do you get to check some of the display settings but you also get to futz with your audio settings too!

 I suspect the instructors glance at the paragraphs upon paragraphs and pull out a word or three and give me the credit I so richly deserver, but still, I do toil over the keyboard, and find that with a finely turned phrase a bit of enjoyment.

My anger and resentment for ending up powerless after years of ‘doing the right thing’ however makes the words clunk onto the page, both rusted tight against one another while simultaneously also feeling slimy and covered in bloody bile, vomited onto the page as my eyes dart back and forth, my ears ringing with the tone of my righteous fury, trying to see if the incantations I hurl at Boo or the steering wheel or the signs along the sidewalk on campus cause the bolt of lightning to strike it’s richly deserving target through the eye socket, into the fronal lobe, down into the esophagus, the burning and buzzing and blindness driving them to their knees where they might just once think about begging for mercy before their hearts burst from the inside out, finally their shit and piss soaking down their legs and into their shoes, shoes that probably cost more than the monthly income of a family of 4 in my ‘hood. Bastards deserve to choke on their own vomit instead of causing me to spew onto this blog. Again, though, feelings of meekness and powerlessness, the wind-mills of Jones street are as evil and pointless as the ones near pennsylvania avenue. We Do Not Count. That’s not the game I thought I was playing, and sad as it is to come to that conclusion this far along I’m not quite done yet.
We’ll see if I can get started – summer’s started already – where will we be in the fall I wonder.

{{11:11p + 11 July 2013 = thursday night || Get lucky by Seseme street rolls on YouTube in another tab}}

+++ ### +++
So my circle includes people such as nancy g. she’s kinda awesome. she posted sinead’s ‘black boys on mopeds’ from a snl performance. just that. no rant. no cringing. just a comment on the times we are in.
touche, mi amiga – out of the park. 1990, the clip said. 1990. a time of such possible hope. lost to the tides of time, sadly.
zimmerman’s a punk with the law on his side, martin was a black kid – he never had a chance.
we’ll watch the voice, or america’s top knitting talent, or the xxx factor or somesuch – we will never do what egypt did, or syria. or even east germany. we are fat and lazy. united states of assholes, I believe is what that old italian pharse was meant to be.
i read late last night a report on the occasioning of the nyc legal system’s incredible horridnous. and the luck of the breeze pursuit of justice.

{2:47p + 14Jul2013 = Sunday afternoon || Sinead sings with Roger ‘mother’ … }