Yule 2009

I just completed my traditional blueberry muffin making aspect for our day. The house is still, as I am the only one awake. I woke up and did my practice as usual, and then made the muffins. I've fed the new kitty, Jack, who was sitting on my arms while I sang mantras to him.

In some regards, this is just another day. I long ago gave up any pretentions of observing anything Christian about it. After all, it wasn't originally a Christian holiday. They hijacked it centuries ago, just like they did Easter. And like any other day, today we will need to build a fire, take out trash, make food, and clean dishes. And show love to one another.

Just like any other day. Love and compassion shouldn't be seasonal. One of the things I like about Buddhism, is that developing compassion and love are a primary practice. In fact, in my own practice, before I move onto some of the deeper stuff that involves levels of consciousness and all that esoteric stuff I pursued for years, I will spend the next 11 months meditating on love and compassion. My practice involves looking at those areas where I don't. And then applying the remedy.  I'm working with myself, and what is inherently in me. Not for the season, but to become a lifelong primary motivation for all I do.

On this day I wish the same for you. That will make for some seriously Happy Holidays in years to come.

A New Kitty!

I suppose that could sound like a mid life crisis! But it isn't. It is the fruit of Jody saving a kitty from the yard cat at work. This kitty wandered in from who knows where, and he's here to stay with us. He's the little one there.

His name is Jack. He spent a few weeks at the nursery, getting up to snuff with shots and being fed and human contact. We were concerned that Taylor's cat Panda, might not take to Jack, who at the time was named Lil C. So we first put C in Taylor's room to acclimate to the smells and so on. Then after a few days we sat in the romm and let him run around. He finally got around to climbing on us, and then he was playing with panda under the door, and despite the initail hissings of feeling dispalced, Panda realized she had a playmate.

Gee, thanks folks.

Panda seems to put up with it, and we all know that eventually Jack will grow up and not play as much. Panda has the weight, but Jack has relentless energy. He cuddles, likes to climb on a face at 0300 hours, and drop his wet cold nose on the face. It's too cute to get annoyed at. Well, for the most part anyway. Jack has been climbing in the Christmas tree, skootches all over the place, and will cuddle on his terms and time. Future posts with weird spacings and spellings are indicationsd Jack has made it to the keyboard.

He is quite cute, and we are glad to have him.

Twas A Happy T-Day.

Yes indeed. Jody's niece Erin, and her traveling companion Vincent, arrived from their around the country tour, and we all descended on Miles' place for our meal. Jode cooked the turkey here, and I moved the table and chair over to the Decker place. Miles had prepared the Cranberry Hazelnut stuffing, and Brussel Sprouts with Potatoes and Sauerkraut (homemade by Claire). Taylor made a Lemon Cheesecake. Jode made a Pumpkin Pound Cake that was raved about, and I think the difference was the Cinnamon blend she used which was made by Cindy Wilbert, a client I built for a couple years back. Cindy and her hubbie have been gracious in providing me trees for fire wood, and are all around great people. Anyway, Cindy's Cinnamon blend made a difference!

After the meal, Claire arrived with more food and desserts, including Tirramisu, Pecan Pie (yummy!), a berry pie, and Green Bean Casserole. We ate more. We quaffed much wine, Liberte was a fave, and there were some delicious Pinot Blancs, and folk drank beer. We all departed for a walk, apparently much later than I thought it was, and we laughed a lot, and played a poem game, and then I set about to cleaning and everyone helped out, and lo and behold it was 11:30. Time to go home.

Aching

My muscles ache this morning.
They ache from a day spent
lifting 40 foot beams for catwalks
into place,
the hoisting them using the manual lifts
into their respective places
hanging from the ceiling.

After that I spent a night hauling around 70 pounds
on my back, sometimes more
when you add tools
that we use when we
execute our drills.
Moving filled water hoses,
and fans, and hustling here and there,
crawling around inside the house
we set on fire
to locate patients,
and then haul them out.
Then reloading the hoses,
and putting away the tools
and boarding up the windows
before we leave.

It's an ache of satisfaction.
I got the jobs done.
A catwalk frame hangs in the theater.
Drills were executed with even
better results than before,
and more learning accumulated.
It's also an ache of lonliness,
being away from home,
and those I love to do those things.
The community won't hug me,
or run me a bath.
They even cop an attitude,
and some are woefully ignorant
of our mission here as volunteers.

So I spent a night in the rain,
instead of a warm chair,
and this morning I ache.
And I get up and do it
all over again.
I ache, yet I smile.

The Most Healing Place I've Been

THE HEALING SPA

Bob's Discount Christian Counseling Center and Bait Shop,

down on Highway 2,
just out of Kiwaukee,
along the Prescott River,
a place that was old,
hadn't been remodeled
in thirty years,
but kept up,
all the plastic inside,
the blinds, the plexi-glass
widows and skylights
were faded yellow by the sun.

The attempt to stock the shelves
with a little bit of everything
looked abandoned,
and as old as the blinds.
The gas pumps outside long
ago gave way to lack of use:

Premium: 47 cents a gallon

I stopped mostly
out of curiosity,
and to stretch my legs.
The sun was warm,
I realized I had to pee,
and I was the only one on the road
it seemed.

There on the door
was a sign, the ink slowly fading away
like everything else,
begging the momentary question
as to who owned the place now,
but I read that sign:

OUT OF BUSINES
NO ONE WANTS TO FISH WITH
THEIR THERAPICT

I laughed.
I laughed until I cried.
I cried until I laughed again,
the sadness of a place neglected,
so juxtaposed against
a sense of humor to the very end,
a quirky idea that didn't work out,
from a human just as quirky
it seemed,

who maybe died all alone,
his kids off in urban areas wanted
nothing to do with their
dad's remote retirement dream.
So the place sat empty and ignored,
until I came along.
I lifted an imaginary coke,
one of the bottled ones from inside,
a mere 6 ouncer,
and toasted Bob, introduced myself,
and asked,
"What's bitin' on the river?"

A Pile Of Parts

If I divide myself, can I stand?
Work here, hobby there,
family first,
spirituality on Sunday,
or the occasional weekday sit.

Schedules and organizing
teach us to compartmentalize
our lives
as if we were distinct
spirit, soul, and body.

We aren't.

The borders of our neatly defined lives,
those lines we create
  to contain what otherwise might be messy
business we don't like to deal with,
up at 4:30, make coffee,
eat breakfast,
go to work,
lunch at Dahlia at noon,
  hit the gym after work in matching outfit,
return home,
perfuntory family displays of affection,
check the e-mail, check the news,
read a story about spirituality
  and decide once again we need to pray more
and vow to do so tomorrow
when we repeat the cycle.

We know that stree affects the body,
worry can make us sick,
working out can lift our moods,
it makes our bodies tick.
We just need to control it,
get it under our thumb.
It becomes a sign of "healthy"
if it doesn't come undone....
We happen to miss the lesson
that our body and ghost are one.

All of those activities
where we sweat and move,
and smile with our kids,
enjoy the color of the sky,
and fret about getting the hoses
rolled up and stored away before they freeze,
making love with our lover,
and bringing information in to think about
and maybe act on;

are not all these activities
the continuous stream of our being?
The integrated expression of life?

It's as spiritual to dig in the garden
as to pray
if I am present in the moment.

Diking a Leak and Moving a Mountain.

Started back to work recently, and got shuffled to a new remodel job on Mutiny Bay Road.  One of our tasks was to remove the appliances. The refrigerator in this house was a Sub-Zero. A big one. Really big.

In retrospect, we could have removed the island first. But we didn't. So we pulled the fridge out, and did the requisite wiggle behind to disconnect the power and water.

Any one who's done this knows that water shut offs are conveniently tucked into an inconveniently small box. So it's not like you can grab the faucet handle and turn it with your fingers around it. The back of the box is about a quarter of an inch from the handle. So I did the righty-tighty thing until it snugged down, and began to loosen the nut holding the copper tube to the spigot.

Gusher!

Well, thinking that the valve was shut, I sent the co-worker off to shut off the water. That meant around the corner to the left, then the right, immediate right, down some stairs, and three feet off the edge of the concrete in the crawl space dirt was the shut off. I was yelling the directions as he was looking, he got it done, and then we had to bleed the system. All the while I have my thumb over the spigot opening. My shirt was soaked, my pants, gloves, and we didn't necessarily lose that much water.

It seemed like this system had a lot of water in it. Perhaps the feeder to this fride ran all over the house before it came to the fridge. Sure seemed that way. So we finally scrounged one of my tool buckets and collected the rest of the water from the spigot. It was then that I decided to see if the spigot was broken. It was in fact, despite it's pristine appearance, rather stuck half open. I finally got it closed.

Then had to skooch it around the island so we could lay it over on it's aback to tip it over to clear the header between the kitchen and media room for it's trip out the front door. This fridge had the compressor on top, and so wasn't going to fit out any door to make it's way to the drive way. So over onto it's back to get out of the kitchen because the low ceiling even prevented a sideways tip. Oof. This thing was heavy. At the front door,we stood it up again, and then tipped it on it's side to clear the front door, but the side ways tip presented an issue: with the compressor on top, we couldn't maintain a hold on the dolly. So we laid it down, and I grabbed the top of the fridge and lifted as much as possible while my co-worker pushed from the bottom to get it down the three front steps.

While balancing it so it wouldn't tip over.

Are we having fun yet!? Well, I was laughing.....

In the end, we did it. And the good news is that a local thrift store took all the appliances. My employer, Gemkow Construction, is greenin' out. We recycled all the trim as well as the appliances. The built in cabinet is at my house. The pool table went to some one's house. The garage cabinets, a bathroom for the local rodents, were chipped up for ground cover. It's very cool. Toilet's and sink and carpet fragments found new homes.

All that by break time. Soakin wet, yet laughing. What a way to start the day!

I'm Off To See The Wiza...Well, I'm Off, Anyway!

And in all actuality, not even going that far.

I suppose I could say metaphorically that I'm going to see the wizard, the "real" person behind the curtain of the huge ego. I'm not going on vacation in a true sense, I'm going on a retreat, and I will essentially be incommunicado.

A working retreat if it is one at all. You see, it's a Buddhist retreat, which fits me because I am one. It's an 8 day event, which features 9.5 hours of practice/teaching a day. Part of the list of things to bring is a tent. So I surmised from this, since it isn't sleep over retreat, that I'll be getting some instructions on a practice, then sent off to practice it. Dare I say this will be enjoyable? I'll leave more info at Jangchub's Journal.

Miles has moved out! He and a room mate scored a nice place, not far from home, and I haven't seen him once. Not surprising. I had the usual twinge that I experience when he leaves. I get that paradoxical feeling of "yea! less of this and more of that," and the fear and anxiety of whether or not he'll be able to stand on his own two feet, and never seeing him an...wait a minute. Didn't I, yes...yes I did. He lives a quarter mile away and I haven't seen him once. However, and this is big, I can always drop in where he works, or lives, and he'll likely be there. So different from when he was living in Seattle. The empty nest thing is a weird experience. Miles is still working, now as the sous chef, the sous chef, at Prima, right here in Langley. He just returned from a trip to London to visit a high school friend, and moved up at work and out into his own place. It's a little disconnecting to hear about things Miles is doing, like a work retreat in the Cascade foothills, from his brother, who happens to also work at the Prima. Having to be working that many hours AND settle in will mean that the settling in part will take longer. Add to that his yoga class and girl friend, and us parents come farther down the priority ladder. I guess that's the way it's supposed to be. Think I'll go boo hoo in my oatmeal.

Taylor and I worked together the other day on one of his projects. It was raining all day, which wasn't the issue. Except for the fact Taylor doesn't own rain gear. But we got a lot done and made it look better in the 3.5 hours we were there. I trimmed a hedge, and cleaned debris, took down a straggler cedar, and pulled up a lot of berry vines of different species. Had to finally put on gloves that had full fingers. By the time the client came home, it looked so good that she came out of the car with an, "Oh my!" We also discovered the shape of the walk path, which was hidden and overgrown to a large degree. Taylor did the pruning. It was a good time even though I crawled under rhodies most of the time, and it rained on us, and I discovered that it's demanding work, yet rather enjoyable. Now a weeder with a long handle will be in order to snag the weeds that will return.

Being unemployed as I am, it occurred to me that maybe Taylor and I should join forces. He can help if I score some side jobs, and I can help him with his gardening. It'll keep us both working, and making better money than unemployment can offer. Hmm.

Jody is off house sitting, actually, dog sitting. Pet sitting. Four cats and two dogs. One big powerful dog. With a helicopter tail. They got a wonderful sitter, that's for sure. Jody tends to love almost every being that crosses her path. It was her late sisters birthday just the other day, so she's in a funk. But as time moves on, I can see her shifting. The other night we went to Barb Nichols CD release event, and an old friend of the family was there, and it has been the plan to go scatter some of her sister's ashes at the location where Northern Exposure was filmed, as it was her sister's favorite show. They talked about it, and I could feel the emotional energy change, as it has been too raw a pain yet, but it seems like perhaps this spring that time will come.

Changes my friend...

I came home from a call just now and found both boys in the yoga Tree pose. Miles has been doing it for a couple weeks, for Taylor it's a first that I know of. So I joined them.

Update!

Brave New Words was a success, and a lot of other water has passed under the bridge.

My beloved, Jody, is still working, and house sitting as well. Seems like maybe this winter she won't get laid off, which is ironic because currently I am. Maybe more on that later. She's also house sitting. She'll come back from one job, and a week later head off for a two month stint up by Freeland, which is a paying job though. And she heads to New York to help finalize her late mom's belongings, then I will be in the house, taking care of the cats and dogs, with no TV or computer. Man, can you say devoted practice time? No, not my drums, my meditation practice. It's about a lot more than just being quiet.

Jode is still on the grief cycle. One of her friends recently had a son pass on, and there are plenty in Jody's family, the aunts and uncles, that are seeming to get ill and pass on almost en mass. But I've watched this woman over the years, and she isn't taking it sitting down. She processes things like nobody I know, and what with losing her mom and sister and other family members before Vasu passed on, it's just been her life for the last two years. She still gardens, visits with friends, laughs, and basically lives life, just with grief as a companion for now.

Taylor is working as close to full time doing dishes and food prep at Prima as he can get, and otherwise gardening. He just landed a job today, prepping a house for the winter. So he's going to use the winter work to prepare for the next summer's solo flight, as his co-worker has moved away. I've seen his handiwork, having done the gardens for a former client of my boss, and I've see him work. He has quite the ethic. He's teamed up with Jody and really done a number on the gardens here. It's been a joy to watch.

Miles is going to London tomorrow! He's going to visit an old friend, and when he returns, he assumes the position of sous chef at the Prima, a local restaurant. He will also likely be moving out soon thereafter, so Taylor will get his own room and Miles will get his own place. Being the sous, he's quite busy. It's a great opportunity though, because the Prima has great owners, good staff, and a good sense of what it means to serve a quality dining experience. A chance to prove himself is what awaits him.

As for me, well, just the usual insanity. Still doing the firefighter/emt thing. I took the test for officer last year, and unless the district floats the test again, the results will void out in two months, three tops and then it's a do over. Might not go down that path again. I like the activity, but as a career, I'm not so certain I'd head that way. Why, well, I'm experiencing a change in values I think. I'm more into plugging in locally, which is why I applied to the library board vacancy. I was approved, but it's somewhat of a better expression of a growing vision within me to see the community I live in grow towards the future. Maybe a city council seat sometime down the road. For now though, the library board suits me, and getting more involved with members of the city council because of that work. I'm also still organizing poetry readings, and currently I'm engaged in the play, Wind In The Willows, which is being produced by Whidbey Children's Theater. It's been a while since I did theater, and I remember why I stopped! However, I love the cast I am working with. I also started drum lessons, just before I got laid off. Levi Beurkle is my teacher, and I have plenty of time to learn the first set of rhythms he gave me. Add some fills, and set a pattern for three bars, add the fill, and come out into a different pattern for three bars, well, you get the idea. For all the playing I've done, it's proved to be difficult for me. Which is why I'm doing it. I knew I needed some better skills. Particularly if I want to make this a paying vocation. A local gig would be nice, and session work.

Being laid off is giving me time to re-examine what I want to do with my life from an occupation point of view. I heard recently that the level of income a person makes is a direct reflection of how many people consider them an expert. And relative to that is rethinking my own writing, and just what the possibilities are for marketing it successfully. So I am in the process of creating a business plan. It's time to quit counting on any one other than myself for my livelihood. And it seems like I could garner that from several sources!

I was talking with Robert Gilman the other day, and he used the analogy of being a midwife for change. It's going to happen whether we like it or not. How it happens depends on the skills of the midwife. I like that. As much as it's been easy to polarize politically, it isn't the most productive. Is it not better to help the change occur positively rather than harshly? So it was a challenge to me. Every being is trying to be happy, and not suffer. It is my calling to help facilitate that.

Brave New Words

You read that right. Brave New Words is indded the new resurrection of the poetry festival that happens at Greenbank Farm every year. It was originally conceived by Victory Schouten and Stephen Roxborough, and is again! So keep April 18 open for a visit to Greenbank Farm, and a day of great artistic performance.

The sponsors and donors are getting aligned, the volunteer staff is coming into shape, and the date is set. This year includes a youth element that will have it's own happening on April 17 at Langley Town Hall, and the "winners" of that event will appear at the BNW main event. There are several excellent local poets who will be reading, and some headliners that are alumni of Hedgebrook, a local writers refuge for women. Moonraker Books of Langley will be our bookseller at this event, and authors will be available for book signings at times throughout the day on April 18. And the setting of course is a great venue. There will be food available, there is a lovely little pond, a great big field to walk in, and little shops to visit, including a wine shop where wine is available for tasting.

So an early thanks already to the staff of Brave New Words, for the vision and work involved in making this expression of the literary arts accessible to the people of Whidbey Island. Come on out and make a day of it!

Oh, snap! Yessiree, for us it's a snap all right. A winter snap like I haven't seen since moving here in '02. We even ditched the snow shovels when we moved here.

If you look closely, you'll see our van in the background. The driveway was shoveled with, well, actually Taylor and I raked it.

Mind you, we're going on a week and a half of freezing temperatures, and today was our second snowfall in a wee, and there's allegedly more on the way this Saturday. So I guess it's a good thing I'm getting tires Saturday.

I think I'll look into chains as well. After all, on Sunday we head out to Michigan. All four of us. Our first vacation together as a family. The little stipend I make for a years volunteer work, and training and classes and duty shifts paid for the tickets. With $50 to spare. Here I was figuring that we'd be leaving our island where it rains and is grey and coolish to head off to frozen tundra Michigan. Silly me. By the looks of things, I'll need those chains on Sunday. Todays higway trips in Seattle, through which we pass to get to the airport, were fiascos. Just log onto KOMO 4 news and look at the archives. While you're there, check out their archives for the fire we had on Monday. Two houses lit off, well, one lit off and the other by virtue of guilt by real close association. Past the third alarm they simply called for all available bodies. that's when I left work to help. I leftwork at 0900, and returned after lunch. I work til four, and the fire crew was just leaving the fire when I left work. When I left it at noon or so, I was helping the overhaul operation, and we were preparing to foam down the remains of the second unit to prevent any reignitions. Anyway, the KOMO 4 helicopter buzzed over us a couple times.

So Happy Holidays to all from the frigid Pac Northwest! Next week when we are in Michigan our island will return to it's normally scheduled environment.

Whoa baby! Was I wrong. I am now updating this post when I should be in Michigan. The weather is what went wrong. We headed off the island on Saturday, knowing a new storm was coming in. We ran into it on the highway about half way to the airport. So it was 30 mph the rest of the way. We checked into our hotel, which is the best way to navigate early flights. The next morning, it started snowing again, and the flight cancellations, begun the day before, started escalating. For our airline, our flight was one of two canceled. So we strarted the options train rollling while the snow continued to fall. One option was another flight. Those were all standby, and the computer and phone systems at the airlines were beginning to fail. Another was to rent anSUV, which just might be cheaper than four tickets, and drive the one way to Michigan. The one and only option wanted $2000 for said trip, sans SUV and gas. Considering the mounting threat of closed mountian passes, we ruled out that option. Another option was to ask for our money back and try another airline. At the rate flights were cancwlling, those flights were dwindling fast. We found one, and then the trick was trying to get through to the original carrier for a refund. So Jode checked her e-mail, and lo and behold, they had already moved our reservations to three days out. Considering that she and I had been on the phoe with the carrier, Northwest Airlines, several times that day and all referenced to our confirmation number, it was rather frustrating that nothing had been said to us about the change. So we left for home.

In the snow, at 30 mph all the way home.

And it snowed. And snowed some more.

So much in fact that we now have a foot of the stuff in our yard. And we are possibly getting more! Arrgghhhh!

I'm still trying to get to Michigan. We have another early AM flight, so today we will leave for Seattle, and hopefully catch a flight out tomorrow morning to join the family in Michigan. Tonight another front moves in with the possibility of more snow. Not much, but if the airlines get nervous and cancel flights because our airport isn't designed for snowy runways, then we might be back, no. I'm not going to believe that.

Michigan here we come!

(By the time we get back, all this snow will likely be gone. That will be weird.)

Changes are blowin' in the wind!

From this:
















To this!

And so we are about ready to move into our new facility. That should begin any day now, as from this view you can't see the equipment inside that belongs to various contractors that are finishing up their punch lists and tasks to get the inside completed. The walls are painted, the bays are done, last minute electrical/security systems are being dialed in, and eventually we will need to begin removing the "stuff" from the old station to this one. Furniture needs to arrive, which doesn't amount to much, and the exercise equipment. Oh yes, we have a training room which I will put to good use. This view is looking east, and our house is actually about a half mile further east. And there is a possibility that I may end up the first resident officer of this station! Our captain is retiring, so the Captain of station 35 will oversee us, and come December and the Officer's test, either Wayne or I will be the next Lieutenant. Yes, the changes.

And our little community here has changes galore in the works. There will be a levy request for a community rec center with pools. That's a luxury in my mind. There is also a request coming for a new harbor project. Somewhat an infrastructure for us, as we already have one that does bring in revenue, or so it claims. I know the Sherrifs office will be requesting a levy, as they put out a whole page ad detailing the facts of their underfunded nature relative to the size of the community we live in. And of course most folk can't tell when the Fire District last asked for a levy lid request.

In this state, the fire district gets their money from property taxes. Years ago some bone head decided that we needed a law that capped property tax increases at 1% a year. So that somewhat limits the budget we have. Our whammy comes from the fact that any time inflation exceeeds that 1%, which it does every year, we lose money. So compound those loses for almost two decades, and you begin to wonder just how we get by. We did get new breathing apparatus equipment this year based on a grant. New laws now require that our bunker gear can be no older than 10 years, due to a breakdown in the liners ability to protect from heat. And that stuff isn't cheap for a well financed department, which many rural volunteer departments aren't.

Ah, the changes.

This year Langley will host it's first Oktoberfest. Not that we're heavily German around here, I think the community is finding ways to not only draw us together, but also draw in tourists. I've never been to the Leavenworth Octoberfest, and given a rather Bavarian looking town and some fall colors, they might have a leg up on us. On the other hand, from here it's three hours into the mountains. Close to the same for Seattlites. So maybe if they get something good going, it just might draw in a crowd. We have the Mystery Weekend, Soup Box Derby(more of a local thing), Choochokum Art Fair, and DjangoFest as major attractions for our area. It's actually kind of fun to watch these efforts.

The big change, and controversial it is, is the Island move to establish a public utility district. A PUD. Both sides are financed from involved groups, and obviously the big money is with PSE , our current provider, who once referred to our area as "losers," in the sense that they don't necessarily make money off of us relative to the cost of deliver and maintaining that service. Which of course has begged the question why they are fighting to keep us from being our own district. Right now in fact, PSE(Puget Sound Energy) is on the auction block, and an Australian group is seriously looking at it. So the signs are up, the mailers are going out. The paper and local internet forum are filling with arguments pro and con.

Myself, I want it. I want it and the switch to alternative energy sources. Renewable sources like wind, sun, and tide. I'd say geothermal, but I know nothing about it. I want local control and free renewable sources. I figure a decade to put it all in place would be worth the investment.

Oh, these changes. Do we just continue with the status quo, or forge ahead in new directions? That seems to be the question we face. Come November, at least so far as the PUD is concerned, we'll see what our area, and maybe country, are made of.

A Day At The Fair

The smell of Karmel Korn and barbeque float in the air. The sounds of various musical acts blend together with the voices of the judges from the animal arenas if you stand in the right place. Ears of roasted corn on the cob walk by, waiting to meet their fate with the teeth and stomachs of hungry fair goers. And I watch it all.

I see the single mothers with their kids, alternately looking for entertainment for the kids and a guy they can escape into. Some are just their with their kids. An altogether lovely thing to see. Some dads are present, some there in body only. The teen age girl asking their friend "Who else is here that likes me?" Their peer male counterparts in packs trying to out-cool each other, yet cognizant of the pecking order.

The older folk who remember when the fair was an agricultural attraction with the latest flowers, the big animals, the equipment, the canned goods, and what quilts were made by the ladies of the island. They move more slowly, sometimes with a lost look in their faces at the new fangled facade of the attention to musical acts, the carnival attached to the fair, and the availability of so many more food choices than when they were young. In the heat they start to look worn out before they crash. I watch it all.

People off their meds, or on too many or the illegal kinds, occasional drunks who make their way in, the politicians carrying on their own circus, the strutting teenage hormones, little kids with wonder in their eyes, the animal people in their own part of the fair and world with boundaries where the rest of us mingle with them briefly. People who eat too much, get too hot, and go for the rides anyway and end up in the medical both complaining of nausea. We let them puke in private. The patient with an allergic reaction, a chest pain complaint, and all four at the same time. Sometimes lending a hand to the team to get these people what they need. I watch all this too.

I monitor the 18 calls we received this day while so many our our emergency responders are at the fair. An unusual day. And people walk by laughing, kids with stuffed animals, and people digging the sun, the music, the food, while an ambulance drives away to the hospital, someones truck is on fire a couple miles away, and the marine team is rescuing someone who has fallen into the water miles away from where we are, in lives completely separate from the fair.

Food on sticks, the flip-flops, boots, and heels, the skirts, tops, or lack thereof, hair do, jewelery, uniforms, decorations, long lines to get curly fries, the tired, overwhelmed, bored, happy, plugged in and dropped out, connected, young and old. I have been there, I will do that. Or not. This is my home fair.

I breathe in, and watch it all.

Another Year Gone By

It hardly seems possible. But my dazed brain says it's so: another year, marked by the Fair, is only memory. Except for maybe the pound or two I might have gained....

I tried this year to mitigate the inevitable reality of eating fair food. The medical booth, which serves as Fair Command for us on duty, is also stocked with all the ususal belt busters: processed chips, candy, and pop. We do have water, and I drink it a lot.

It still amazes me how this period of frenetic energy is so exhausting. I came home last night after my shifts, and made like a vegetable. Then I realized I wanted away from it all, and returned to a book. But he fact remained; I spent two days essentially walking the fairgrounds as a Medical Responder, or standing at ease, whether at the Public Education Booth, Safety House(a fire simulation experience), or the Fire Suppression truck. And I came home tired.

I'll let you know now exactly what it is that makes me and the rest of us tired. it's the same insidious reason that fire fighters and EMTs have shorter lives by 7 years on average. It's a little chemical called adrenaline. It makes you go from zero to "hero" in no time flat. It makes for fight or flight, and isn't supposed to be on allthe time because it creates stress.

So I can't walk around the fair at ease. I'm in a constant state of hypervigilance. For example, I'm at the Pub Ed booth, where we let kids spin a big wheel and then ask them a safety related questions. They get a prize no matter what. Even the little guy who was absolutely mezmorized by just spinning the wheel got a prize because he was so spell bound. It's a riot. I love it. However, kitty corner(any ideas where this phrase camer from?) from the Pub Ed booth is the dog kennel, and between the sight of people falling down and the sounds of angry dogs, I bolted into action. I can do so only because my adrenaline is already in mid-gear, just looking for a boost. And the radio on my hip....

Thankfully, the dogs were well groomed enough to be more bark than bite, and no one was hurt, except for the uncharacteristic display of their "well trained" dog. So it was back to stand by mode, and digging on teaching the kids and their parents little tricks that could save their lives.

And eventually eating. And since we have to reamin on the fair grounds, it means fair food. Which I tried to control this year, and think I hit on something. Part of it is not wanting that "I ate the whole thing" problem. Because if I suddenly need to go, or am assigned to a call off the fair grounds, I don't want that feeling slowing down my body or brain, which in our heat this year, makes us do what the fair goers do: suddenly reverse the eating process.

So I didn't get a funnel cake this year. Or cotton candy, sundays, or any of the stick foods. I had a scone Sunday morning with coffee. And , the roasted artichokes were good, as was the roasted corn. And if I actually skip lunch, and eat mid afternoon, I then eat less over the day. And I don't hamper the ability to jump out of stand by.

On Saturday, besides the four patiente we had at once, two of which we sent via ambulance to the hospital, we had 18 non-Fair calls over the course of that day, including a marine call which was quite serious. That's a busy day. That's a day when we look for people ready to succumb to heat, or teens fighting, or unsafe activities of carnies around their rides, or people choking, puking, bleeding, passing out for whatever reasons that have culminated at this marking of the year on our island.

When Sunday night rolls around, I'm finally glad to be done with the dozens of smells, the cacocphony of sounds, the myriad sights, the fair food tatses, and I'm ready to go home to a quiet house. I'm ready to reflect on my shifts, and what we did and could do better. I'm ready to let my self get out of stand-by, which is sometimes difficult to do. I think I need to hit the training room this week.

Another year begins....

Headin' down to the farm...

Yup. Goin' down there, and raise me some crops. Gonna sit on the porch, eatin' cukes and watchin' the hay grow....

Yea right.

Actually though, Bur Oak Acres is a community farm here on Whidbey Island that I stopped in at with Jody. A co-worker of hers runs it. Turns out to be cooler than I thought.

Interestingly, I've been sort of looking into permaculture lately. And lo and behold, here comes an opportunity to work on a farm. And I have no doubt it's work. been there. Done that. On a real dairy operation.

Anyway, this will be raising the crops of which we get a share, and the rest is sold at the Tilth market here on the South End of our Island. Tilth is the market where you have to grow it to sell it. Which is what Bill, the owner of Bur Oak Acres believes. And you see that symbol right there to the right? That's the group that certifies that the produce Bur Oak grows is natural. It means the soil is natural, because it's tested as so. The standards are much higher than the federal standards which are only designed to benefit large food corporations. The CNG certification deals only with farmers that supply local markets utilizing sustainable agricultural practices.

So Jody thought I'd be interested, and I at first was hesitant. When the scope of it, and how it fit into some of the stuff rattling around inside my head, I shifted gears. The input is only a couple hours a week, and frankly, I'm not sure they want my black thumb anywhere near the plants. A lot of the work involved deals with transplanting starters to the field, and I honestly question my abilities to do that. What the hell am I saying?! No I don't. I just need to learn. I can however contribute to the maintenance of buildings and the like. I do however, want to learn the growing process. So how cool will that be to be involved in a great learning environment that results in food on my table? For a couple hours a week? Seems like a no brainer. Jody was right as usual.

It brought back memories of the days when we thought it would be cool to drop out of the plastic society we rebelled against with our pot smoking and music, and live on and off the land. Once we went up to Wisconsin with two friends who had two friends who lived on the farm, and when we visited we sat on the porch and ate fresh cucumbers. Ah, that was the life, eating fresh food, talking about the issues of life, all on the front porch in the quiet Wisconsin rural land.

Then I worked on a farm. In other words, I had to remove the rocks, disc, chop, bale, and stack hay, milk the cows, clean the barn, and all the rest of it to be able to sit on the porch and enjoy that cool glass of fresh milk. And my boss had no porch. So I learned first hand that a lot of hard work goes into small return, at least on certain scales.

Bu the times they are a changin'. I know a couple local restaraunteers who are looking for local produce to use on their menus. The local grocery store buys from local farmers. The local community web site has a forum that is getting more attention with this issue of people wanting locally grown natural (can't say organic, the feds might sue) produce on their tables.

The idea of permaculture is looking at how we can do that on an individual basis. In other words, here at my house, developing not only gardens but food production that works with the local environment and uses no pesticides or herbicides, but depends on natural systems for that as well as capturing rainwater for the irrigation of it all. At least, that's my nutshell grasping of it.

So it seems that the universe has offered me an opportunity which I won't say no to.

Headin' down to the farm with the missus. Shall we bring you back a tomato?

Meanderings...

Are we not having unusual weather here on the Island?! According to the Yard manager, whom we lovingly refer to as Yard Boy, especially if imitating a rich. pretentious woman, states it's the weirdest weather year he's seen in decades. Unfortunately, it's wreaking havoc on their sales.

Life is a hive around here lately. Both boys are back at home, and getting on their feet. Taylor is working with another lawn service, and he's moving toward operating it while the owner goes overseas, which to us Islanders, or South Islanders, means Mukilteo as well as anywhere else. But this guy is headed to Indonesia. And their season is getting into high gear now.

Miles wanted to get out of Seattle again, and is working for one local establishment to learn the kitchen management aspect of cooking, and he will later this summer try for another local kitchen that leans toward French style so he can learn a bit of that.

Eventually, both will want to move out so as to live their own life style. In the meantime though, it's quite busy when they are around. Which seems to come in bursts.

Jody is working the yard now at the nursery, and doing the best she can. Her mom died last November, and her sister has cancer that isn't surrendering to antidotes. She also found out this week that a co-workers wife was given two weeks to live, and a former co-worker's five year old son may have to undergo chemo again. So it's been hard on her.

Her and I have been watching the Oprah event on Monday nights with Eckhart Tolle. It's based on his new book, A New Earth. I'm on my second time through, which is to say that if I recommended any book for people to read this year, A New Earth would be it. That followed by Wayne Dyers The Power Of Intention. Both books have been quite important to us, and we think would do wonders for any who read them.

Speaking of reading, I just finished On The Road by Jack Kerouac. I loved it! At times it seemed a bit sophomoric, but that's just me. His style was very different, as were the experiences on which he based the story. By the time I was done, I was quite impressed. Now I'm onto The Dharma Bums.

Which comes slowly, like the other story did. Why? Well, I keep the book in the work vehicle, so the only time I read it is during ferry trips or work lunch breaks. Otherwise I have been reading Tolle's new book, and Jay Feldman's The Day The Mississippi Ran Backwards. That was a good book. I had known for years that part of the bluff my in-laws had built their home on in Wisconsin had been busted up by those quakes. So I decided to put it into context, and Feldman's book does a good job of doing so.

Otherwise my reading these days is limited by my attendance at Fire Officer Academy. I'm aiming at the Lieutenant test in December, and this class is the prep for it. Besides the text (thankfully small) there are several other items to read up on for the test: Haz Mat Operations, Principles of Foam Fire Fighting, that sort of stuff. Enough to dominate my reading time though.

And in all this activity, we continue to rise every morning and breathe. We are grateful for the health we have, for life in general actually. That we are learning, working, laughing. Some good meals, and good wine, times of silence, and some of loud music.

Our lives remind me of canoeing Canadian wilderness rivers when we were in high school. They were narrow, meandered, and you never knew what was around the corner. Sometimes it meant getting out and carrying everything. Or pitching tents on 10 degree embankments in the rain. Eating dried sausage while soaking wet. Sometimes it was a beautiful vista. Once it was a moose. A real close moose.

We are learning to flow.

A lot going on!

Appearing soon in a blog near you! Yea, yea. That's why I'm a carpenter....

Major news shorts: Jody is still reeling from her mom having walked on, and her sister has a pretty advanced case of cancer. It bums me out to see her so sad. Her mom and sis were her two closest confidantes over the years I have known my beloved. Did I say years? I meant decades. Jode still tries to cope through work, and on occasion getting into her own garden. We are entering that stage of life though where friends and family will begin to experience the final stages of life as we know it on this planet.

And speaking of which, Jode and I have been reading the new Eckhart Tolle book, A New Earth. It is worth the second reading I am giving it now. Oprah Winfrey, the celeb, has been running a live webcast on Monday nights going through the book chapter by chapter with the author. So far we have had one week where we actually got unbroken reception. You are wondering where the segue is. Well, life as we know it on this planet is quite illusive, maybe even elusive, or even delusive. Consider this: When you look up into the sky at night, what do you see? We know from Hubble photographs that there are thousands more galaxies than we can even see in a spot of space about the size of a stamp just above the big dipper. That's how far away they are. Despite all that mass, what do we mostly see? Dark space. And if you zoom in on an atom, what do you mostly see? Little particles zooming around in empty space. If we removed all that space from our atoms we would be incredibly small. So what are we really? Are we the roles we play? The thoughts we think, or what we feel? Or something behind all that?

Tolle's book helps answer these questions, and in reality illuminates a path to genuine peace on this planet.It is altering us and the way we communicate with each other.

Which is good because our youngest son Miles has asked if he could move home for a spell. He is tired of Seattle, and wants to quiet himself and his pace down, and get geared up for his next life step. He's secured work and all that, so that isn't the problem. We'll just have a slightly more crowded nest here at the Harrison household is all. Miles himself is going through consciousness changes, so despite being crowded, there will be plenty of good energies mingling together.

Our oldest is trying to get out of our house, and now that he's starting another lawn/gardening season, he might be able to do that. He was comfortable in Coupeville, until his roomie took up with a new love, and then they didn't want to share room space anymore, and asked Taylor to vacate. So he's back to what he likes doing, and trying to gather new clients for garden work.

Jody is still at the nursery, fully in charge of the pottery and statuary. Which means a lot of lifting of heavy items, which she then puts out for display. Last year was a banner year for pottery. It made a lot of money for the nursery, tripling sales since Jode took over it. Plus she still gets into the garden shop and takes care of all the painting, and a ton of other little stuff that wouldn't get done at all if she didn't do it. It's even more poignant because they aren't necessarily things under her job description or title, but things that need to get done that others aren't willing to do. Jody however, is more concerned about making sure that the things that need getting done get done. If she ever quit, they'd find out the hard way just how much she does around there. Now that the weather is getting nicer, she'll start spending more time getting into her own garden. I think this year will be the deer proofing year. Meaning a fence of some kind. Our neighbor, as nice a guy he is, has decided that the semi-domestic creatures need to be fed, so anything for them, and there are a lot of them, is fair game. Mostly including our garden! He has his fenced in, and these deer hardly need to be fed as there is plenty of food, and no up-link in the food chain. they pretty much rule the roost as it were. Some get hit by cars, but overall the population will simply grow to the limit of the food availability, and then either disease or something else will draw down their numbers. Anyway, Jode doesn't fume about these pests as I refer to them, like I do. But now that it's affecting her investment, it's time to protect it.

As for me, well, I'm nearing the end of my nail bending days. I'm putting together a business plan for a cash machine of my own. My bro-in-law Tim directed me toward a web site that has been quite helpful in getting things done properly. I don't necessarily want to just occupy myself, I want to hire out the work, and move into another venture, and then hopefully a third one. That's the grand plan, but one step at a time. I find the most limiting thing is my own belief system about being wealthy. That too shall pass. And, because that doesn't take up enough time, I entered Fire Officer Academy. The Standard Operating Procedure for promotion changed around here. I'm in a station though with no Lieutenant right now, and come September, no Captain. The current Lieutenant is on leave, and may not be coming back. Mind you, the span of control might warrant a Captain and Lieutenant, but our span of control has been down to four at one point, and right now we are at seven, which requisites two officers. Two of those though are high schoolers who will eventually move on, and reduce our number again. But at least I'll be ready to serve, whether or not the opportunity opens up.

And there's still the poetry readings! I have some ideas brewing, so I'm off to contact some folk to make some of these happen! See you later!

Merry Chris Moose!

Yes, and a Merry Chris Moose it was. That's him on the right by the way. He's actually the oldest ornament that makes it's appearance on our tree. Jody, my partner in life, made him decades ago while doing a fund raiser for a church back in the days before we saw the light. And of course I dropped a double entendre there loaded with personal meaning that I won't bother explaining here.

So what made our Yule so special? Well, first, I had off work from the December 22nd through January 3rd. The boss decided to close the office during what is an unproductive time due to the broken week, and I loved it! Partly because I've always wanted this time off, and partly because I had a run with diverticulitis the week before, and the recuperation time was well appreciated.

Secondly, I got to see both my boys this year. They both live close enough, and so we had a house full, for us. And I always love seeing my boys, and so we ended up doing a bit more shopping that we might have, but it was worth it.

Third, and adding to the above mix, Jody's brother Tim was with us from Chicago. That's his mug below. He came out the day I got off, and was with us almost until New Years.



The cribbage board was mighty used while he was here, all of us taking turns with one another. We also did a bit of walking on the beaches and through the woods, trying to find that grandmothers house that seems so popular. We didn't have any luck finding it though. On the other hand, we saw some marvelous things. At the Saratoga woods we visited the massive Glacial Erratic Boulder, as it and it's cousins are referred to. One of the smaller cousins we saw at the Earth Sanctuary, but the one in Saratoga must the big brother. And Saratoga has some big timber in it. At Ebey's landing, on a windy day, we walked the trail that is actually the Robert Pratt Preserve loop trail. The vista from there is awesome, even on a cloudy, windy, winter day. That trail sports Douglas firs that have grown up in the presence of the salt and wind, and the difference between those and the parked relatives is quite remarkable. We ventured off trail a little bit. It was fun. And to our wonder, just as we returned to the parking lot, a quintuplet of paragliders came out of the trees just behind us. Basically, it looks like a lawn chair of sorts, a "harness" it's called, beneath a parachute. But a narrow parachute designed for maneuverability. It inspired both of us to try it. They just hung there, and then with a dip they zipped along the hillside, or swung around to regroup. No motor, no noise. Hanging on the wind and thermals, like a colorful bird.

Jody joined us for the walk in South Whidbey. We wanted to get down to the beach, but the trail was damaged and hasn't reopened, so we did the trail that takes one along the Ancient Cedar. There are some massive trees in that park. On one off trail excursion, we found a nurse log that was almost six feet high! Consider this: we found a cut log in the Saratoga, having been cut to clear the path. It was a 52 year old tree, providing I counted the rings correctly. It was roughly a foot in diameter. Which on a statistical average, that nurse log we found would have started growing before the our first English cousins first landed on the shores of the mainland. And it will likely lay there for almost as long rotting. My great grandchildren will be able to see remains of that log, and then some! It also was amazing.

Our last walk was Maxwelton Beach, wandering toward Scatchet Head. There was lots of cool drift wood, and mayhaps I'll post those photo's later. I thought the most interesting feature was a recent slide, that had then become a small waterfall, but even more interesting was the revelation of the makeup of the slide. It appeared to be that very ancient compressed peat moss. It basically looked like wood that had been buried literally six feet under a very long time ago. That sort of stuff you find in the Possession bluff, and that makes up the eastern portion of the Scatchet tideland at low tide. And then to top it off, a bald eagle flew right over us on our return to our vehicle.

We of course did the usual gift giving and had some wonderful meals, like this holiday season is so well known for. But what made it all special, particularly in light of the recent passing of Jody and Tim's mother, was the enjoyment of one another and many long talks late into the nights. That to me is what it is all about in the end.

So from all of us, Tim, Taylor, Jody, Miles, and me (I'm behind the camera), we hope yours was a nurturing holiday season, and we wish you a happy New Year.

Pretty woman isn't she? Particulalry for being 70+! That's my mother-in-law, who passed away this last Saturday. Her name was Evelyn, but we all called her Ginger.


This green plant doesn't care.
It just keeps growing, taking out
the carbon and converting it
for me to breathe.
The gnat(what's that damn gnat doing here?)
doesn't care.
Nor the Rhodie outside, or the deer
(damn deer! stay out of the garden!)
or the neighbor that feeds them.
He doesn't even know the story of Ginger.
Nor do most the people in my
village by the sea.
But I've read the story now
for several decades, and have
been warmed, encouraged,
angered, and pleased by this character.

The story is over now.
I have flipped the last page,
closed the cover.
I will miss this character.
Having been a major sub-character
in this story,
there is naught I can do but reflect.

She may live on in her daughter,
but there will be no sequel.