Greek Tragedy by was of wrestlin' and rural Texas. It works. It's actually kind of incredible.
I did double-takes throughout seeing Zac Efron at 250 pounds of muscle, and a seriously wizened face. A cruel but sometimes likeable Dad, a helpless but strangely empowered mom. Professional wrestling as fake and so real at the same time.
Definitely worth seeing.
The performances were great. (Emma Stone has impeccable comedic timing, even as a zombie.) But the whole thing just didn't cohere for me. The nudity wasn't shocking, and the sex scenes, while vigorous, also didn't strike me as all that interesting or transgressive. And the prostitute with a heart of gold thing seemed downright lazy.
I'm glad that Lanthimos is getting the attention he well deserves as a director, but I thought The Rival was much more effective. The Lobster even more so.
Also, the final act is a bit of a mess. Are we supposed to like Bella or not?
Trip Shakespeare, "Snow Days," although Maryland looks like it won't get a White Christmas this year
I lost my mom when I was 17, one month before I graduated from high school. Ovarian cancer was the final cause, but there were some complicating and complicated factors leading up to it including a diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis. She was 51.
Losing my dad at 94 this past November, it really feels like the other end of the telescope. My mom was far too young and had far too much left to do, professionally speaking. My sister and I needed her, like all children need their parents, and it probably made her feel guilty that she couldn't give more from her own deathbed, to somehow reach out and protect us from life, from ourselves, forever.
Maybe Dad was ready to go. He died not long after I went to work that morning, and my sister had been spending a lot of time here but needed to go home for a bit. One of the nurses says that's why he went when he did, he wouldn't leave if his children were around him, wouldn't want to trouble them. Again, even in death, how can I make things easier for my kids? Just pass as quietly as possible, make the rockiest of mountains a little bit smoother for them, for others.
So many parts of his body and mind were failing him. Every trip to the bathroom became a potential drama. There were days me and my sister or one of our wonderful nurses could hold his hand and watch a classic Western movie and laugh. There were days were he would lash out at anyone around him. Partly it was dementia. Partly it was frustration with a body and a brain, almost a hundred years on Earth, that wouldn't work properly any longer, that wouldn't take direction as intended.
I'm having Christmas Eve dinner with my sister and her boyfriend. We have plans for New Year's as well. Tomorrow, Christmas Day, I'll take a long walk then come home and play with my cats, maybe watch a movie, maybe read a book. If I'm being honest, a bit of laundry and kitchen cleaning would probably be a good idea as well, the simple acts of keeping things going in my own life.
I've been talking to my mom more than usual lately. She was much more of a holiday person than my dad. Even she thinks Christmas decorations going up right after Halloween are tacky, water down the whole thing a bit. I'm talking to my dad a lot, almost daily. I'll see a news story that I think he'd like to hear and make a mental note to tell him when I get home, where I'll sit down with him for his lunch or dinner and we'll just talk, or I'll just talk, and we'll have all the time in the world to share a joke.
I miss them both so much. It hurts. Talking to them helps a bit. Thinking of them too, at their strongest and best. We'll go forward together into a kinder year, I'm sure of it.
The Pogues, "White City"
R.I.P. Shane MacGowan, and very hard to pick my favorite Pogues tune but this is likely it.
My Dad wasn't a natural animal lover, but he came to be very friendly with my two rescues. A lot of times it was just a small chuckle, other times the tuxedo male would curl up with him as he slept.
On their end, I know they miss the nurses coming in during the day if only for the sheer excitement of a stranger being in the house.
I finally saw Killers of the Flower Moon. It's an amazing (true!) story, and maybe one of the few modern films that actually portrays the F.B.I. in a positive light.
That said, DiCaprio sleepwalks through this performance. I actually had to remind myself that his character was intensely evil, but he comes off as a dumb lump of rocks who had no agency beyond his desires for sex and money.
That's also true though. Evil can be stupid, not just devious. Tons of Americans throughout history have both lied and murdered their way through life as racist assholes, but at the same time seen themselves as "innocent" (more Manifest Destiny than White Man's Burden, but still).
De Niro gets it, and acted appropriately. He's doing evil against these people, but actively sees himself as doing the right, justified thing. I think that's what a film about this material has to address head on.
Also, it's too long. Multiple reviews argued that since it's Scorsese it's worth the three and a half hours.
Nope. This is good Scorsese, not great Scorsese. It's too damn long and the necessary cuts present themselves throughout the film.
Good, but could have been a lot better.
Kenny Rogers & The First Edition, "Ruby Don't Take Your Love To Town"
I've got plans for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I'm looking for work again since the last job didn't work out. I did give two weeks notice, but it just seemed like a bad fit right off of the bat. Teaching college and adult students for over a decade in South Korea just didn't translate to teaching much younger students here in America.
Anyhow, my Dad didn't have the most diverse musical taste but he did like what he liked. And he absolutely loved Kenny Rogers. Maybe it's a bit of a cheesy song, but there's some definite pathos underneath.
Things are going back to color from black and white, slowly but surely.
My Dad passed away last week. If you've been following this blog, you might remember that I moved back to America from South Korea in February of 2021 (COVID time!) to live with him and become his caregiver.
It was not easy, because one thing about being old (he was 92 at the time) is that you really come to hate being old. Nobody wants to wear "adult undergarments." Throw in a dementia diagnosis from about two years ago and yeah, it was hard on everybody.
Long story short, we moved him back here to Maryland to be closer to family. He was also in a nursing home for about six months but eventually we decided to move him back into his own place, with me.
In the end, at the age of 94, it was a really nasty pneumonia that ended up taking him. We had nursing care and lots of help from hospice, and this allowed him to fulfill at least one of his wishes -- to die at home, visited by his family, and kept company by my two rescue cats.
I'm still a bit tired more than anything. I've got plenty to say about the good, the bad, and the ridiculous when it comes to elder care in America. I quit my job a few weeks ago (which probably would have happened even without his illness). I need to get back to a more regular exercise routine as the weather gets colder here in Frederick. If I'm being honest, I just need to leave the house more and make some new friends. There is still a lot of paperwork and, well, death stuff that needs to be handled, of course.
My dad was a scientist, a world-traveler, a lover of a good joke, and a glass of red wine. He loved gardening and fishing. Our relationship was never perfect, but over the past few years I think we both realized time and biology are generally not on anybody's side, not for long at least. I think he lived as full a life as possible and made a difference professionally. (Maybe in a later post I'll talk about how he was one of the first agricultural scientists to take organic farming seriously, in an era of high-input "miracle" fertilizers that would solve all our food problems forever.)
Mostly, I think me and my sister did our best.
This Vox piece gives a pretty good overview of just how difficult (and expensive!) eldercare can be, and how a generation of Boomers going into their Twilight Years is going to be rough for lots of their grown children:
"Boomers themselves have driven tectonic shifts in American cultural norms and family structures — a revolution in divorce, along with a trend toward smaller families and away from multigenerational living — that could make that backbone weaker. Compared to their elders, boomers will have fewer people in their lives able to step in and care for them as they age, says Rachel Margolis, a demographer and sociologist at the University of Western Ontario. In 2010, there were more than seven potential family caregivers for every person over 80; by 2030, that ratio is expected to fall to 4:1, and by 2050, it will be less than 3:1, according to AARP. More care responsibilities will fall on fewer family members, most of them adult children, who may find themselves caring for loved ones alone or with little help, sometimes across two different households."
Me and my sister are living this right now. If I haven't mentioned it here, I have told my friends -- my Dad has excellent health care and a real pension after three decades of high level Federal work. And even with those resources, a lot of genuine sacrifices and hard decisions still had to be made. And more will come going forward as he approaches the age of 95.
My only suggestion? Let the children of older folks pay some reasonable amount to go on their parents' health insurance if they give up work to take care of their mom or dad.
And the move to (return to?) multigenerational homes seems an obvious and necessary trend.
I'm liking Connections. Is it bragging to say I'm pretty good at it? Seems like you just want to think in parallel terms about possible proper nouns -- names, movies, common expressions -- before you start clicking away.
Wordle still kicks my butt of course.
I started a new job last week and it's going pretty well.
For those keeping score, I had part-time job this past summer working as a jobs counselor for younger folks. Now I'm full-time in an education-related field here in lovely Frederick. Not to be coy, as I'll probably give more details later.
As mentioned, I'm also living with my Dad who is a hale and hearty 94. We made this move for a number of reasons, but basically the nursing home wasn't working out. Nothing terrible was going on, he just wasn't getting enough social stimulation for the very hard-working but over-tasked staff.
We have some wonderful nurses coming in during the day, allowing me to go to work. It's tough somedays. He's becoming less and less mobile, and it's more difficult to communicate with him and understand (fully) what his needs are.
I woke up this morning to a great big windstorm, as it seems fall has finally arrived in Maryland. My back is sore from lifting my Dad improperly a few times (just once is really all it takes! use those legs!). I'm taking life and work one day at time, as much as it's possible not to worry about the future (mortality for starters, and also the fact that I'm on a one-year contract and will yet again be applying for jobs come next summer).
The Orioles lost last night in their first playoff appearance since who knows when. Nothing will make you a realist quicker than caring for somebody approaching 95. But part of me is looking forward to the second game this afternoon, come what may.
Losing is fine. But not believing better days lie ahead? That's for suckers.
The Replacements, "Kiss Me On The Bus"
Tim or Pleased to Meet Me? Which one you got?
Elizabeth Nelson on the reissue of Tim:
"Thus 'Tim' commences with a binary choice. The opening track is called 'Hold My Life,' and the decision is between fame—or at least a life-changing increase in notoriety—and something like a tactical retreat from the limelight. 'Time for decision to be made,' Westerberg intones hoarsely over a driving pre-chorus: 'Crack up in the sun / Or lose it in the shade.' A sentiment worthy of Jay Gatsby himself. By the end, the Replacements did a little bit of both."
Way back when I reviewed Trouble Boys, a band biography that's also worth checking out.
Spent an afternoon in Hagerstown checking out Hub City Vinyl. Most people know the town for the nearby Civil War battlefield of Antietam.
Highlights: french fries and Led Zeppelin pinball.
I finally got around to watching The Last of Us, and I really enjoyed it. At nine episodes it managed to fill out some back stories to greater and lesser successes. Did we need more Bill? Sure, why not. Did we need more Jakarta? No, not really.
I guess I was left feeling that a really good two hour movie could have been made as well, one that would have outshined a nine-part series and brought home the point that Joel acted selfishly, but also relatably.
That's not hating, just wondering if an already baggy video game needed an equally baggy series to boot.
"The farther out one looked, the darker the color of the water, until it finally became a deep blue-green. It was as if the innocuous ingredients of the offshore water became more and more condensed by the increasing pressure of the water as it got deeper, its green intensified over and over again to produce an eternal blue-green substance, pure and impenetrable as fine jade, that extended to the horizon. Though the sea might seem vast and deep, this substance was the very stuff of the ocean. Something that was crystallized into blue beyond the shallow, frivolous overlapping of the waves -- that was the sea."
-- Yukio Mishima, Spring Snow
"The young men and women walked round and round the plaza in the hot electric night, the men one way, the girls another, never speaking to each other. In the northern sky the lightning flapped. It was like a religious ceremony which had lost all meaning, but at which they still wore their best clothes. Sometimes a group of older women would join in the procession with a little more excitement and laughter, as if they retained some memory of how things used to go before all the books were lost. A man with a gun on his hip watched from the Treasury steps, and a small withered soldier sat by the prison door with a gun between his knees and the shadows of the palms pointed at him like a zareba of sabres. Lights were burning in a dentist's window, shining on the swivel chair and the red plush cushions and the glass for rinsing on its little stand and the child's chest-of-drawers full of fittings. Behind the wire-netted windows of the private houses grandmothers swung back and forth in rocking-chairs, among the family photographs -- nothing to do, nothing to say, with too many clothes on, sweating a little. This was the capital city of a state."
-- Graham Greene, The Power and the Glory
Me and my Dad are living together again, in lovely Frederick, Maryland. We tried a nursing home for almost a year and it wasn't working out. He was bored and listless. He had a few friends, but not many. The staff was fine -- no lashings with wet noodles or anything, but also not enough one-on-one care, more than they could possibly provide.
Also, the place was damn expensive.
So we're trying something new. We've got a nurse coming in five days a week.
It's good. It's tough. I'm looking for full-time work now, and when I find something it means we'll probably have to hire another nurse to come in. I finished up a summer part-time job last week doing job counseling for high school kids, and it was actually kind of fun.
My cats are raising hell. They'll both turn one this October. We don't know their actual days of birth since they were abandoned, so close enough.
My Dad turns 95 this February.
Blogging has been minimal. Political blogging even more so (We're doomed!).
That said, here's an article on how the clusterfuck that is Brexit (British politics even!) killed off something of a Renaissance in British beer making:
"Bone Machine is one of more than 100 small brewers that have been forced out of business in the past 18 months, hit by a combination of Brexit, the pandemic and the cost of living crisis and now threatened by changes to beer duty laws. In June, the accountancy firm Mazars found that 45 small brewers had gone into liquidation, but many more have either been sold or swallowed by rivals."
Let's give Conservative ideology its due -- unnecessary taxes and tariffs really can destroy a fledgling business! Dozens of 'em, even!
"We went into a fast food joint. It proclaimed itself a 'Gourmet Soupery.' What was gourmet about it, I couldn't tell you. I got a little dizzy when I tried to lift the tray with our two bowls on it. Despite chiding HIM about HIS diet earlier, I realized I hadn't eaten anything since yesterday myself. They were saying on the news that more and more young people were forgetting to eat, starving to death.
'This feels kind of embarrassing somehow,' I said as I picked up my spoon.
'Uh-huh.' HE nodded.
'I've never eaten with someone else before.'
'Me neither.'
We ate sitting side by side gazing at the video screen. It's so hard to relax without something to look at. The screen was showing a sunset over some southern island. The camera didn't move, so it was pretty much like an ultravista. Once the sun had sunk fully behind the horizon, the programme changed to Top Forty This Week. That restaurant chain's catchphrase is 'Brand new videos, guaranteed.'"
-- Izumi Suzuki, "Terminal Boredom"
I guess I should be complaining about how the Orioles didn't acquire anything more than two not so great pitchers.
But with so many teams over .500 there just isn't much talent available.
They've got as good a shot as anybody to at least win the American League. The Braves are probably the best team in baseball though.
Oppenheimer is really two movies -- one about building the atomic bomb, the other about the political fallout from building it. At three hours, it's still way too long and both the beginning and ending drag.
That middle sweet-spot is something though.
Nolan also really stumbles by using a "black and white" effect. Problem is, he uses it for both flash-backs and, very liberally, for flash-forwards. It's weird.
Cillian Murphy is great, but Robert Downey Jr. as the bad guy is really given a lot more to do which is also surprising.
It's not quite a failure, but definitely not a success either.
Wow, Maryland summer is hot.
I finally got to start my summer job and it's going well. I really like my boss and hell, they even gave me an iPhone (for the rest of said summer).
Blogging might be light until September and the beginning of the "real" dispatching job. We're weighing some new options for taking care of my Dad, hale and hearty at 94.
It's getting hot. Boo.
I have an online psych exam for the real job this coming Thursday. I think I'll just let Mandu take it for me.
Chingu (tuxedo cat): bold, adventurous, reckless
Mandu (cream and tabby cat): skittish, curious, takes her time
These guys are eight months old now, each. Adopting them made my life better.
I have a pretty good job lined up for September, when I'll begin paid training.
Thing is, that's a long time to go without a paycheck.
So I've been applying for summer jobs as well, which is kind of annoying considering I did the work to get "a real job" for the fall.
Anyhow, I've had some good interviews for the part-time stuff. Meanwhile, I'm going through some incredibly thorough background and medical checks for my first government job ever.
It's a process. My Dad keeps asking me why I'm not working yet, and he kind of has a point. I keep visiting him before or after these interviews, after telling him I got the job I really wanted, and he's understandably confused.
Anyhow, I should have something short-term lined up next week.
The best part of having a job is not having to look for a new one.
My cats are my personality, basically.
"Horses brought a revolution. Not since the spread of corn across the continent had Native Americans experienced such an increase in power. Equestrian nomads could do almost everything -- move, hunt, trade, fight, kill, evade, and protect themselves -- faster and more efficiently. There was the time before horses, and there was the time after them. The Blackfoot became more mobile, more powerful, more ambitious, and, potentially, more vulnerable: a single mounted attack could exact far more damage than the on-foot war parties of old. Native peoples had entered a new technological age from which they benefited, but from which there was also no escape."
-- Indigenous Continent, Pekka Hamalainen
Tina Turner, "Proud Mary" live
I like 80's Tina just fine but damn, for me it'll always be about the late 60's / early 70's girl-group on speed rendition of "Proud Mary" here. So much talent. And I realize this was a pretty awful time in her life but man, it never shows.
I loved Money and The Information. I bounced hard off of London Fields, twice. Go figure.
Experience is also tremendous.
With my move to Maryland and my basic disgust with all things political these days, I haven't had a lot to say about the extremism of our current right-wing Catholic Supreme Court. But at least, let's dispense with the myth that outlawing abortion is about "protecting the unborn" and not, in fact, controlling women's bodies and punishing them when they practice bodily autonomy:
"A 26-year-old woman from Texas was shot and killed by her boyfriend after getting an abortion in another state, Dallas police said."
Women are going to start being sent to jail for miscarriages sooner, not later.
I'm looking for a job. It might seem strange from the outside, but I'm applying to a mix of education related positions (I mean, I did teach English in South Korea for over a decade) and dispatching, which is what I was doing in Bellingham part-time with the Humane Society. I see a clear link between the two with regards to communication skills and problem solving buy hey, that's how I'm wired.
It's never easy to be told you aren't good enough for any position. But then again, it's only been a little over a week and I've got at least one interview lined up.
We shall see.
This post probably jinxes it all buy my God the Orioles are playing good and exciting baseball.
This was my second trip across the USA. I drove this beast, while my sister drove my Dad's Honda CRV. Everything went pretty smoothly, even some snowy weather through Utah and Wyoming. We managed to miss the storm itself by a day, thanks to navigation decisions by my sister. The highway through Wyoming was absolutely torn up though after the storm, and the biggest worry became monster potholes that had obviously undone a number of 18-wheelers parked on the side of the highway.
This was my second journey across. Way back in what must have been 2007 (actually it was 2006) I drove from Washington, D.C. to Bellingham, WA to stay with my Dad. I ended up working in a kayak factory for a year before moving to South Korea to teach English for 12 years.
This time, after cleaning out my Dad's house for sale, we took a more southerly route. The general goal was five days, four nights. If memory serves, it was Bellingham to Boise, Boise to Rawlins, Wyoming, Rawlins to Kansas City, Kansas City to Cambridge, Ohio, then Cambridge to the Baltimore area. (The last day of driving was pleasantly light.)
Rawlins to Kansas City was about 785 in one day.
Anyhow, this is very much a young person's game and I hope I never have to do it again. Maybe if I was driving in a car with somebody who could take over, but it's just exhausting, and the number of jackasses with licenses in this country knows no bounds.
Worth documenting I guess. My two kitties were surprisingly well behaved. I left the Whatcom County Humane Society with a can of cat-targeted pheromone spray, which had the calming effect it was intended to have. I'd never heard of the stuff, but apparently you can get it over the counter. There is no version for dogs, as far as I know.
Made it about a week ago. I only just got out my laptop though and have been on my phone. Lots of coffee and greasy breakfast sandwiches. The cats are fine. My Dad is also doing well. Nebraska never, ever ends.
I'm off to drive across America tomorrow. I'll probably put up some pics on Twitter, but not much here.
It's been a long journey from Daegu to Bellingham and now back to the DC area. But you should already know my elderly Dad is safe and sound back in Maryland, albeit in a nursing home. Me and my sister and clearing out the house for resale. And I've got two new kitties joining us, although I'm sure they'll be miserable for eight to ten hours a day in the car.
Gotta fight through it, my furry little babies.
See you in five days!
No beating around the Hollandaise -- Mount Bakery has the best Eggs Benedict in Whatcom County. The secret? They make their own bread.
It's done -- I've reviewed all 24 diners in and across Whatcom County. (Quick listing here.) And with the exception of two corporate monstrosities (they rhyme with LIBLOP and JENNY'S) I had a ton of quality dining experiences. And frankly, even the weaker spots were never too terrible -- we all have bad days. I think at the very least what I got out of this project was simply getting into remoter parts of Whatcom County that I might never have seen otherwise.Here are the three best diners in Whatcom County:
1) Mount Bakery (with three locations, I went to the one in Fairhaven)
2) Old Town Cafe (admittedly, I'm a bit sentimental about this place but objectively, everything they put out on the table is very, very good)
3) Marlin's Cafe (one thing I learned -- while food quality is most important, atmosphere is impossible to separate completely, EBs only on weekend)
2012 Main Street, Ferndale, WA
Where we headed today, Mr. Tummy? Well, it's lovely Ferndale and the small, unassuming Al's Diner.
Cozy but also surprisingly on the new side in terms of decor, the place was packed -- the best sign there is for a quality restaurant.
512 Potter Street, Bellingham, WA
Let's head to the York neighborhood east of downtown, and a place that's inside a larger Market, but as far as I can tell most people come here for breakfast. It's Marlin's Cafe! And it's well worth the detour!
113 East Holly St, Bellingham, WA
Let's head to the heart of Bellingham for breakfast today, at the Horseshoe! And let's be honest -- you might be turned off by the homeless guys encamped along the sidewalk but I'd suggest going on in. They seem to have an agreement on not harassing customers.
So maybe not the best way to start one of my diner reviews?
I last visited the San Juan Islands by ferry with my Dad about 20 years ago. I figured there was no better way to enjoy my last week in Bellingham.
Wayne Shorter, "Speak No Evil"
It's easy to underestimate Wayne Shorter because it's so damn hard to remember just how many important contributions he made to jazz music, both traditional, avant-garde, and in between. Always calm, in the pocket, in control.
My Dad turned 94 today. He had a birthday party at his nursing home with my sister and nephew and Good Friend of The Family. He looked really happy, and knowing him he's probably setting down for a nap.
The wheels are rolling on selling the house. There's still a lot to do, but we've got a realtor helping us out.
I'm planning of driving back east, two kitties in tow, in two months. I'll keep working at the shelter until then.
The fluffy ones are getting their spay/neuter this Friday. They'll hate it of course, but I'll also officially be able to adopt them once the procedures are done.
It's raining in Bellingham, of course. Things are pretty good.
Given what's happened in Memphis and Alabama recently, it's worth reflecting on my relationship with cops. Which is to say, it's non-existent. As a white driver I don't get pulled over unless I want to -- if I speed or don't keep my tags up to date. As a twenty-something I was pulled over a total of three times, all for speeding tickets that were completely my fault. The point is, my relationship with cops has always been, in the truest sense, consensual.
I think what cops are risking now though is both cultural and permanent. It's becoming obvious that cops exist to serve other cops, not you or me. If you do happen to be in a situation where you acted lawfully and a cop didn't, and it's your word against his or hers, you're the one who will pay the consequences. Even now you'd have to be stupid or ignorant not to realize, deep down, this is already the truth regardless of skin color.
To try and put it another way, "post-racial" policing in America does not mean what it should -- a justice system where people are treated equally under the law. What it means is that even white citizen are waking up to realize that every police department in America is a racket, a private operation, a conspiracy of silence, where cops will always do their damndest to protect each other, their pay, and their benefits. They will always act to ensure that this self-protecting and self-enriching machine keeps running.
Our health and safety and rights? Eh, they'll be protected when it's convenient, but certainly not if we in any way challenge or threaten that machine.
The essential question becomes, why are we paying so much for this shit? Why do we continue to subsidize what are essentially modular cartels in every American state, city, and county?
Lake Padden, Bellingham.
I've made it to all the major parks in Whatcom County, but probably will miss you a few of the smaller ones. Very pretty.
De La Soul, "Stakes is High"
To go from the hippie vibes from five years earlier to the pissed-offedness of this? Genius.
Trugoy the Dove is dead at 54.
"I'm sick of bitches shakin' asses
I'm sick of talkin' 'bout blunts, sick of Versace glasses
Sick of slang, sick of half-ass awards shows
Sick of name-brand clothes
Sick of R&B bitches over bullshit tracks
Cocaine and crack, which brings sickness to blacks
Sick of swoll'-head rappers with their sickenin' raps
Clappers of gats, makin' the whole sick world collapse"
Me and my sister have the ball rolling on getting my Dad's house sold (the one I'm currently caretaking). It's going well, but it's also the first time I've done something like this and dealt with this amount of money.
I'm trying to learn as much as possible from the experience. Curb appeal! Curb appeal!
Without getting too far into the weeds, I'll hopefully be moving back to Maryland some time in April, with two cats in tow.
From there I'll look for a new job, and also visit my Dad in his home as much as possible.
The hardest parts are over (taking care of my Dad full time). But spending two days cleaning the house wasn't a bed of roses either.
And that was just an "acceptable" clean for the realtor. A "deep clean" will come soon, although we'll likely pay for that. I imagine I need to get started on selling some furniture.
Then again, I'm a lazy git.
This weekend, back at the Animal Shelter. They know I'll be gone pretty soon, which is genuinely sad for me. I hope they'll miss me nearly as much as I'll miss all of them.
Time doesn't fuck around, does it?
I love Patrick Mahomes but I don't see how you could bet against the Eagles in this Super Bowl.
Philadelphia 38 -- Kansas City 24
Two of those K.C. touchdowns come in garbage time.
What I love about this pic of Mandu is that right behind me is a comfy king-size bed filled with blankets and cat toys. But now, sleeping upon my stinky sweatshirt, on top of a rickety clothes stand, is the preferred place of comfort.
Jeff Beck, "Because We've Ended As Lovers" (actually a Stevie Wonder tune, natch)
As an aspiring 17 year-old guitarist I was much more interested in trying to emulate speed and bravado masters like Hendrix and Page. Beck was, of course, a step ahead of everybody, bringing in jazz influences and a superbly unique technique mixing expression and vibrato.
Too soon, too soon.
"Everything was new and grand, even the things that did not work, and that made up a little for daddy not being with us. Mama said that daddy was supposed to finish up the crop year and that Uncle Alton would manage to look after her things. Uncle Alton remains the most beautifully stoic and courageous man I've ever known. He inevitably found the time and the wherewithal to do whatever was asked of him. Years later, when mama got bone cancer and had to stay in bed a year in a full body cast, Uncle Alton took me in with his houseful of children, keeping me and loving me as one of his own.
Shortly after we were in the house, mama gave us one of her terse, elliptical explanations of how things were.
'Me and your daddy's separated,' she said.
'Separated?' I said.
'Yes,' she said.
'Separated from what?' I said.
'Each other,' she said.
Well, hell, I knew they were separated from each other. Hadn't I just been on a bus for three hours? It would be awhile before I understood she was talking about more than distance."
-- Harry Crews, A Childhood: The Biography of a Place
Mount Baker, Washington
I drove up to Baker today, for the first time in about 10 years or so. That might sound weird, but it's a bit of a haul and even with clear-ish weather you've got plenty of icy patches up and down the mountain. Last time I was up here was with my Dad. It was cold and snowy of course, and completely packed, and I was actually worried I wouldn't find a parking spot. It's prime season for skiers and boarders and snow-shoes. Me, I just walked around a bit and smiled at the people and good dogs.
Happy New Year!
Silver Jews, "Buckingham Rabbit"
I just got back from Baltimore, where I spent a week with my sister, my nephew, and my Dad who is now in a nursing home. I've got more to say, and pictures to show, but things went well despite having one of my flights cancelled. Me and my two furry knuckle-heads want to wish you a glorious 2023, wherever you are, wherever you find yourself, fortunate or unfortunate circumstances be damned.
It's the Year of the Rabbit. Let's not get caught.
