Archive for the ‘Homelife’ Category

Oh well, it’s almost over

May 23, 2008

Next February is the long-awaited conversion to HD and digital TV. Today, I cashed in my two $40 government issued coupons toward the purchase of two digital/analog converters. I’m already suspicious. When does the government mandate something and then help us pay for it? Is somebody’s brother-in-law making these things? Whatever.

Being an antenna “holdout” is an experience. I expect, however, to see a cable bill for gasoline tradeoff anytime now. Our neighborhood still has a practice of antennae hooked to chimneys … which is a good thing. In our case, we don’t have much of an attic to do any maneuvering. It is difficult enough to get a proper signal for all the channels as it is even when you can see what you’re doing. Small blessing.

On another subject. Each time I see a W04 sticker on the back window of an automobile, I can’t resist trying to get a peek at the driver. A 2000 campaign sticker I can understand, but one for the 2004 election? Perhaps there are localized news blackouts or some simply don’t listen to the radio or watch TV much, or have any expectations as Americans in the world. Or maybe it’s back to that yellow dog on a ticket type of thing. I know the ticket won, but the temptation to examine each perpetrator is strong indeed. Oh well, it’s almost over.

I’m dreaming once again …

May 20, 2008

At an intellectual level, I know that the future doesn’t exist. That doesn’t keep me from occasionally dwelling there, even feeling/sensing some quiet fall afternoon out in the backyard. At any given moment the future can be palpable, a companion during periods of contentment.

So, one can imagine how I felt a week ago today as I sat in a bleak waiting room on the surgical floor deep in the bowels of a heart hospital. My wife was out of sight. I wasn’t even certain which hallway they had wheeled her down. One thing I was sure of, however, my future was on hold. That empty, unpredictable aspect of time which slowly rolls out before me as my personal red carpet of perceived entitlement appeared to be severed, to have evaporated.

What I was confronting, as I was soon to find out,  was my imagination. I didn’t really become frightened and lost until the doctor told me what happened back in that cold room filled with monstrous machinery. As he spoke, all I could do was nod while my eyes slowly filled with tears.

It’s when she had to return to that very same room 36 hours later that I nearly came unwrapped. You see, I now thought I knew what was going on beyond those double doors past the coffee machine. I was pretty sure I knew enough to be scared out of my wits. If she had almost been lost before, what now? What was going on during this rushed evening trip back downstairs?

That odd feeling of having the door to the future swing shut during my prior visit to the waiting area was nothing but my ignorant imaginings. Now I had sufficient facts and knowledge to have grave concerns and forebodings. Now the future didn’t even exist in its absence. I sat holding my daughter’s hand in silence.

The doctor came in. I’m dreaming once again about quiet fall afternoons.

A good day to read and gaze out the window

May 11, 2008

Tomorrow, if it is dry, will find dogwood petals glued to the car’s hood and windows. A steady wind of 30 mph with gust up to 40 and 50 should pretty well clear out what’s left of our spring blossoms.

Hurriedly retrieving the paper this morning reminded me of storms blowing in along the lake shore up in Minnesota. Nobody else is out at 5:15 on a Sunday morning on our quiet street, so the sprinting old man in his slippers and pajama bottoms was unwitnessed.

It will be a good day to read and gaze out the window.

Words do matter

February 19, 2008

This is one of those days when everything feels right. When I awoke this morning, it was about 10° – cold for here – but along with that came beautiful clear skies to frame the muted winter light on the  woods behind the house.

On the immediate agenda is to get outside for a quick run. Indoor work includes developing a reflection booklet for our Lenten Day of Reflection this coming Saturday. I have received several suggested quotes, poems, and passages on our selected theme. Our practice has been, for the past five years, to base our theme on a passage from the readings of the following Sunday. It works. The theme this year is robust: 

“Whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst.”   [Jn 4:14]

And, coincidentally, we have recently been given a hand-carved woman-at-the-well. The carver is an impoverished resident of Cite Soleil in Haiti. Definitely a center piece for our gathering space. This photo will be on the cover of our booklet as well.

woman-at-the-well.jpg

On the home-front, we had a couple of kitchen cabinet hinges lose their plastic cam for spring closure. They simply fatigued and snapped off. In a matter of 20 minutes, or so, I found a source on the Internet (at 7 a.m., of all things)  and ordered 12 hinges. For one thing, we have assured no further breaks now that we have a ready reserve on the way. What did we do before the Internet?

Tomorrow is prison day. Recordkeeping is a must for me. On any given day, I’ll visit with 20-25 men, all of whom will be different from my last visit. During the year, however, the visits usually settle in around 80-100 offenders with several visits with each one. My folder includes seven years of visits on a spreadsheet. By the time I’ve updated the information the evening before I go down there, I’m ready to reconnect and listen.

One may wonder about the term “offender.” That is the term used by the Department of Corrections. I couldn’t agree more. The terms “prisoner” and “inmate” describe states of being. The term “convict” implies that something has been done to him or her. The term “offender” places the label, and the reason for it, where it belongs. Words do matter.

Breaks from news coverage

February 2, 2008

Tuesdays and Saturdays are my so-called weight training days. A small Universal®  gym has been against one basement wall since 1988, and not gathering dust, I am pleased to say. The effort seems to have been working over the years. My goals are modest, to be able to keep tying my own shoes as time goes by and to fend off any twinges while doing odd jobs around the house.

The manual which came with the machine has a toning routine which includes 13 assorted exercises, light easy stuff. During each session, however, the total repetitions do approach 500. Even a small exertion done 500 times is bound to be helpful when compared to channel surfing or turning pages in a magazine. Although I like that too.

There is another piece to my motivation. I grew up in a family with a chiropractor on speed dial. Back and neck aliments, headaches, you name it, it was there. So, if I can keep some semblance of muscle balance and tone, there should be a payoff somewhere down the road. And, I suspect, there already has.

Sirius Satellite Radio®  keeps me company while down in that basement corner. This morning the channel was “Classic Vinyl” under the rock category. Occasional breaks from news coverage have become more and more welcome, especially during the campaign season.

A little rock music with no news also helped calm me down. Last evening I watched Bill Moyers Journalon PBS. After listening to Henry Waxman summarize some of his oversight investigations, my anger toward our government almost kept sleep from my bedroom door. January 20, 2009 will be like having the country fumigated … at least for a while. I can’t wait. In the meantime, keep investigating.

No hurry

February 1, 2008

The snow came, 8 inches. St. Francis stands at the patio’s edge wearing a white shawl with matching tall hat of fluffy snow. So far, there is a path shoveled to where the paper landed at the end of the driveway.

It looks like a good day to get some thinking, writing, and reading done with brief spells on the end of the shovel. No hurry.