The Bullydozer

Well, the BIG GUY, the earth mover, shows up in the backyard today? Let's face it. Sitting in the lotus position in front of THIS MONSTER isn't going to have much of an impact. He'd just make mulch of me. 

But you know what does have an impact?   A CAMERA. I put my monster lens on the minute I hear the roar?  I head out to the fence line pretending to be the journalist from hell. I know what I'm  doing.  I must be a journalist. Everybody in this neighborhood should be at work right now. ( I've done a lot of construction stories in my day. I've been escorted off much bigger construction sites than this one.  They're more aware of what you're doing than you'd think. And they really don't like "BAD PRESS." In fact they really don't like PRESS at all..at least not until it's done and they can have a ribbon cutting.)

Well I have witnesses to this.  On the BIG GUY'S initial scrape (taking off the top layer of ground) for the four lane road?  He does a quick turn around  RIGHT at our property line, and heads back the other way. Hey, I don't know.  Maybe that's  his plan. But it sure is odd.

Since I have a birdseye view of this whole operation I'm going to bore you with a semi regular log of "THE DEVELOPMENT."  I'll try to keep it short.

When they shut down for the day? I go up and step off the distance from the center line of the road to our property line?  103 feet unless my feet have shrunk.  I'm pretty sure they told us it would be 150 feet.  Think I'll check into that.

I just want to keep them HONEST.  Honest!

But it's kind of ego boosting to think I might be annoying them a bit at my age.

Good Fences

In poet Robert Frost's "Mending Wall?" His neighbor offers up...."Good fences make good neighbors."

Really?  I bring this up because our 16 year dalliance with open space appears to be up.  The coyotes, the llama, the antelope, the cattle,  the 13 lined ground squirrel, the rabbits, the hungry hawks and the occasional rattlesnake are destined for someone else's "SOUTH FORTY. "

How do I know that?  Because all this land behind us, that used to belong to the BLM?  It's about to give way to construction of a major thoroughfare, and high density development.  It's not that we didn't know it was coming. But it's still sad when you see the surveyors and the fence builders show up.

For your amusement, and certainly mine? I might have mentioned lately that I've kind of gotten back into meditation. If you keep it up? It just yanks stress right out of you. But I discover this morning that what takes away stress? It can also impose it!

In the early morning light I'm out on the deck in the modified "lotus position," just breathing deep.  While my eyes are closed I'm clearly aware of this roaring ATV pulling up behind a house two doors down.  I can FEEL the driver slamming on the breaks and hopping out. He loudly and brazenly starts BANGING a fence stake into the ground. You can SENSE the beast of the field scrambling for cover.  I think I'm hearing "John Henry," and not when he was a "little baby." 

Well, when he gets one door down?  And he sees me sitting there like the Dalai Lama?  (Peggy confirms he did see me)  All of a sudden "John Henry's" stake pounding takes on the characteristics of a seamstress.  He's clearly exchanged his sledge hammer for a tack hammer.  His gentle tapping is rhythmic and soul soothing.

And as he motors to the next position, he is practically in idle.

Well he sticks with the tack hammer and low RPM's for another two positions? Oh, sure, and then he once again becomes a "A Pile Drivin' Man." But what short term joy.

Another little piece of irony here.  After Robert Frost hears his neighbor say, "good fences make good neighbors?" His vivid thoughts reflect on fences. "Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it where there are cows?"

Well we've had cows here for 16 years? And very few fences. Sorry Bob, but we've been doing just fine without them, thanks.

But that's so negative.  I'm feeling good. All my life I've been told, "you can't stop progress." Maybe not stop it? But, as a lotus, you can sure play some mind games with those initiating it. 

"OOOOM!"

  

"Warts and All"

Look what I dislodged from it's home while edging the lawn!

[Quick Personal Note for SighleMacCaba: I am not bonding with a TOAD. And the only reason I'm welcoming the squirrel? Its my irrational hope it will chase away the rabbits. Urban myth, by the way, says rabbits like to get under cars and gnaw on brakelines. You might be better off with a squirrel.]

Anyway the little warted creature is less in length than the first segment of my index finger. I trap him to take his picture. Now don't go calling the SPCA.  I let him go unharmed although I think he's lookin' pretty good to the Robins in the neighborhood.

And you know what? This entry has nothing to do with the toad.  It's about firemen and edging the lawn.

I was sired and raised by a fireman, so I kinda of know of what I speak.  They are a meticulous lot.  Don't take my word for it.  Stop by the station sometime and watch them wax fire engines and floors, or hang up hoses to dry. As messy as their fire fighting can be? Go to the other extreme for the rest of their routine.

So? Well when you grow up with a fireman instructing you on proper lawn care?  You'd better neatly EDGE that "puppy."  That's especially true if your house is five doors down from the fire station.  You are not only talking neighborhood pride.  You are talking making grade for all the other firemen who drive by the house coming and going every other day.

You can get away with just about any kind of grass planted in a fireman's  yard. Trees and bushes and even flowers are optional. But? Had Hamlet said, " to edge or not to edge?" He would not have been contemplating suicide.    He'd be deciding whether or not to edge? Or change his name, and run as far away from home as he could get in 24 hours.  [firemen work 24 shifts]

So anyhow I'm living in the highest per capita income county in this state. [I'm sure my income is keeping it from being number one in the country.] And as I look up and down my street? Almost none of the lawns are edged? How odd.  It's been kind of nice for more than a decade not to live in fear that I might have forgotten to EDGE.  Home free, eh?

Not!  I'm at Lowes, Home Depot's alter ego.  I'm buying some thumb tacks or something and as I get in line at the register? The guy in front of me is buying an EDGER. I'm not talking one of those four stroke gas engine contraptions that violate every noise ordinance on the planet.  No, this is the old fashioned kind. For you youngsters? You just grab it with both hands like a shovel and give your lawn a shave along its' concrete edges. I think garden gloves were invented because of edgers.

So as I'm watching this guy meander towards his car, I am overwhelmed with guilt. I start seeing my Dad's intimidating scowl in  the clouds.  He is looking down on me:

"You don't edge? You YakHead. What you need is a good swift kick in the b__t."

[He never did it, but I was never comfortable that he wouldn't.]

So I march right back in to Lowes?

"You got any of those old fashioned EDGERS?"

With a sickening sinister sneer the clerk says, "yeah, right over there."

So I get it home with muted enthusiasm. I'm beginning to recall the feel of blisters on my palms and the creases between my thumbs and index fingers.  OOOW!

So I grab some garden gloves, guzzle some water, embrace the EDGER, and head for the front yard.

I can see front lawns for a block in each direction. Close scrutiny reveals only two yards have been carefully edged...two houses down to the South...( The guys a fireman, no ____T!) and three houses down to the North...don't know what that guy does.  One thing I'm pretty sure of? I'm the only guy in the neighborhood with a "HAND EDGER." I think the fireman's is nuclear powered.

Let me cut to the chase.  The grass is so thick and "hung over," it takes me two hours to manicure it's edges. I have a brand new 'STINGING" blister on my right palm.  It is in the low 90's and I am on my way to losing 8 pounds. [I see a best seller: Diet On The Edge. Lose Your Wasteline at a Blistering Pace.]

So will I edge next week?  I just remembered something else.

Doing stories on getting your home ready for sale? RULE NUMBER ONE: "Don't spend a lot of money upgrading your property if it sets it apart from the rest of the neighborhood. YOU WILL NEVER GET A FAIR RETURN ON YOUR INVESTMENT."

Hmmmmm!  Now if I can get the guy to the North of me to see the wisdom of rule number one? [there is no chance of getting the fireman to backoff.] Then maybe we can all stop trying to "LIVE ON THE EDGE."

"Dad? I'm going to bronze this EDGER and put your name on it. You must have some Pinochle game you need to get back to up there. I've got to get to work trying to save a HOMELESS TOAD."

Behold A Squirrel!

We have two Austrian Pines in the backyard. We planted them when we moved in so we know they are at least 16 years old.  And now we know they must age at the same rate as homosapiens. That's because their adolescence is over.  They've attracted their first SQUIRREL! 

Whenever I ask advice at a nursery or bird store? They invariably answer my question with a question.

"Well how mature is your backyard?"

Well now I finally have the answer.

"Old enough to attract a squirrel, don't ya know?"

It's appropriate that a squirrel shows up on this day.  Why? Well this is the day, once a year, I go see my cardiologist.  It's no big deal. I almost always get a clean bill of health.  But I wonder now what the tests will reveal. 

You see I get there about 10 minutes early? That's because I can never remember which floor he's on.  So I get that figured out and I'm feeling pretty good.  I casually saunter up to the third floor and begin my amble down the hallway to door# 350.  Just to make sure I pull out my reading glasses. With the glasses balanced on my ears I push forward until I can focus on his name.

"Yep, the right place. And I'm still 2 minutes early."

I reach for the portal knob and turn it? Well, actually I only attempt to turn it.  It's locked.

"Hmmm! Must be stuck in traffic."

So I'm waiting, and waiting...and decide that maybe my appointment is at 10:30, not 10:00 a.m.?  So to kill time I go down and borrow a pen from the pharmacist? I'll do a crossword puzzle.

Oh, and then I stop by the little canteen and get some coffee to drive up my heart rate.

Back upstairs I crouch in the hallway in the semi-lotus position. I'm right in front of door number 350.  I don't want to miss the doctors arrival. We'll have a good laugh about the traffic jam he got caught in.

Well, 10:30 comes along, and nothing? Whoa, I hope he's okay. I'd hate to have to find a new "Ticker Tinkerer."

Well it's 10:35 and time for action.  I call my primary care "doc" in the same building to see if I can get a phone number.  

Five minutes on hold....and I'm thinking this hearts going to be really cranking when he gets here.

Finally.

"Dr. Sherman's office. This is Charlotte."

"Charlotte, this is Paul. Is Doc okay? I have an appointment with him, and his door's locked."

"Where are you?"

"Outside your door at the Centennial office?"

"We only go there on Fridays. You know that."

"Do I need to come up to your other office then?"

"Let's see.  No.  Why don't you just show up right where you are on Friday, like you were supposed to.  You know, Friday, the 10th?"

"What time?"

"10 A.M."

"The 10th at 10. Hmm. Okay. See you then."   

I have no explanation except maybe that squirrel showing up for the first time. If you have a serious case of squirreliness? What specialty do they refer you to?

Nuts! Never mind.  I really don't want to know.

As I 'SPOKE,.....

So, its been a week! No excuses.....well maybe a few.  The Ings from New Zealand were in town...and they kidnapped us, and  made us play four hours of tennis every day. And you know how you are gripping the racquet all those hours? And how hard it is to type afterwords?

Anyhow, before and after the Ings I've been cycling. Yesterday I did 38 miles without blood doping...even though Peggy said I was a DOPE for going that far.  So here's some thoughts on cycling 38 miles.

When you are cycling for 38 miles? Start very early. Start early because if you are cycling 38 miles, all of those miles might not be in the morning.  Then as you are getting ready to pass someone on the bike path on the left?  You can't take the gentle approach and say, "good morning!"

"Good afternoon!" " Good night!"  Sorry, but not the same friendly connotation. They ring of scarcasm.  You might just as well say, "ON YOUR LEFT LADY!"

It's clear to me that if there is a cycling mixer going on in the neighborhood?  I'll not be invited.

I stop by the bike shop before heading out? They are having a sale on clothing? You may have already stopped by one of my HELMET protests. As long as I'm staying on bike paths? You'll see only my naked pate dripping with sweat.  My hair is no longer long enough to be blowing in the wind.

But anyway, the really good bargains? These padded shorts I imagine ease the pain of 38 miles on the trail "Pard!"  I look at them? I look at me in a mirror?  AT LEAST three more inches off my waistline before LYCRA lines MY LOINS. It'll be easy enough to pick me out of a crowd wthout a helmet.

But that's okay.  I'm not a loner.   I like the company of fellow life travelers. But I've also learned over time to not only accept, but enjoy time alone.  And I think that's important if you are going to do much cycling.  You are alone, and then not so alone. 

I don't have anybody riding next to me?  But I have two white tail deer cross my path. They are only about 10 feet away.

I've discovered that 38 miles for me is long enough to have endorphins kick in. And its probably good I'm experiencing this "cyclists high" sans other humanity.  "Oh, that it the most beautiful private reservoir in the WHOLE WORLD!"

I think it is actually a wastewater treatment pond.  But, hey, there'sa goose sitting in the middle of it? That's special isn't it?

How to wrap this up? Floyd Landis?  Just tell the committee  Endorphins look a lot like Synthetic Testosterone under a microscope. And if they don't buy that?

"ON YOUR LEFT YOU LUNKHEADS."

[lunkheads: If you're under 50 you'll need to look it up]

"PLING,PLING!"

So I'm out on another bike ride today. I run out of juice both literally and physiologically. Peggy generously takes my cell phone call and comes and picks me up. But that's not the story.  At least, that's not my story.

So I'm clipping along, at mile 12 I think? Off in the distance I hear this strange sound, "pling, pling?"

"What an odd bird expression," I"m thinking.  It doesn't really sound like a mating call, or a danger signal.  And I can't connect it to any native bird I know.

I've heard all the vocal expressions of domesticated beasts in the region, including a Yak. This sound does not match up in that arena either. 

I'm afraid the distraction of the sound,  and a short term deficit in lactic acid,  has me wobbling on the path. And then I hear it again.

"Pling, Pling!"

Many of you probably knew this? I didn't! The little bell attached to the handle bar? The one you manually activate with your thumb? It's back.

Since the bell, may I call it a bellETTE, has no human tonality?  I can't really get upset with it.  But immediately following its' "PLING, PLING?"

"Hey! Look out! On your left BUDDY."

The tone is very mean.  This man is quite lucky he is dealing with the "Kinder, Gentler" me. The one who replaces "ON YOUR LEFT" with "Good Morning!" 

By appearance he is easily older than me.  And had I not "Hit the Wall?"  I'd have been "ON YOUR LEFT"ing him.

But isn't it interesting the little bell is back.

We get home? Pull into the garage? Haul my bike out of the back? And as I'm limping towards the stairs going up to the laundry room? I look over towards Peggy's bike?  SHE has one!

I'm going to find out where that guy lives? Then I'm going to go "PLING, PLING" outside his bedroom window at 4 in the morning.

No, that would be mean!

Water BLOGGED

Not every day can make sense.

You know the feeling you get when you've been in an ocean, or lake, or swimming pool?

Well, not that one really.  I mean the feeling you get on a warm day after you get out of one of those bodies of water?

Well, not that one really. I mean the one where you lie down on the sand or towel or concrete and let the sun dry you off?

Well, not exactly that one. I'm talking about where you are lying there for a few minutes with the solar rays freeing up those endorphins?  You know how you get this miraculous sense of well being?

Well I reached that STATE OF EUPHORIA today.  But you know what I was doing before I was overcome by it?

I was grocery shopping.  Honest! I will not forget this day.