Mr. Blue Sky

I'm not nuking my Twitter, but it's no longer active.

You can follow me at wet-casements.bsky.social , however.

Bread and Pets

I had a nice Thanksgiving dinner with my sister and brother-in-law.  I made bread from scratch, which is something I used to do quite often but stopped for a while.  It doesn't take much time or effort, just a bit of commitment and clean-up.

I also did my Christmas shopping, online of course.  I bought myself a new computer since I'm still running Windows 10 and that'll be unsupported next October.  With the Trump Tariffs coming it seemed like a good idea.

And that's one of my sister's puppers, Rollo.

It's cold in Maryland!

All The Nomz

Happy Thanksgiving and belated Chuseok!

Tomorrow I'll be visiting my sister and making the garlic mashed potatoes and fresh bread.

"far above our poor power to add or detract"

 

Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.

My sister, my nephew, and I drove up to Gettysburg last weekend for an annual event where they read the names of the Union soldiers who died in battle.  In addition to being super pretty, the event provided a bit of perspective on recent events.  Are we facing literal Civil War?  Probably not!  Are we facing four more years of rule by a criminal rapist clown who couldn't define sacrifice even with a dictionary?  Very much yes!

In any event, it's worth checking out if you're ever in the area.  Hearing a mix of proper names mixed with "Unknown, unknown" is a real gut punch.

And Lincoln was right -- we owe the dead who fought to save this country from slavery so much more.

The Scream (Cat Version)

Frederick, Maryland

"as though it were forbidden"

"The rice fields here stretch almost to the edge of the jungle.  A couple of water buffalo are wallowing in a pond, submerged up to their backs in the muddy water.  Every so often one waggles its ears.  On a field track is another, solitary, buffalo harnessed to a two-wheeled cart, his head so low he looks to be asleep on his feet.  A small group of rice farmers, dressed in wide-brimmed straw hats, shirts, and loincloths, is bending over and toiling away, calf deep in water.  Each time one moves his feet there's a smacking sound, otherwise complete silence; they do their work in silence, planting the new rice shoots in the mud under the water.  Other than a sense of the day coming to an end, there is no indication of the time. It's as though it were forbidden -- there's not even a real sense of present because each performed action is already in the past, and each ensuing one is future.  All here are outside history, which in its taciturnity will not allow present.  The rice is planted, harvested, planted again.  Kingdoms fall into decay.  Stillness.  In the silence of eternities, shots ring out.  The peasants flee."

-- Werner Herzog, The Twilight World

Everyone's An Authority

 

Husker Du, "In A Free Land"

Prescient!

I don't blame Kamala.  She ran a good race.  I do blame decades of FOX News basically telling people to be afraid, to be scared of their neighbors, to want daddy back to solve all our problems.

A Goodbye In Full

It's been a year and a few days since my dad died.  He was 94 and lived an incredible life involving travelling around the world (literally!) as a scientist.  In the end, my older sister and I did our best to keep him comfortable, along with some amazing nurses and the Frederick County Hospice.  He died in his new home here in Frederick, Maryland, with his family and friends all getting a chance to say goodbye.

Taking care of him was hard at the end.  Dementia had taken over, and it was hard not to be upset with him when he cursed at a nurse, or even at me or my sister.  The anger came from his own knowledge that he had lost and was losing control of the simplest things, and I don't blame him.  I guess I find myself a year later dealing with my own anger at -- what exactly?  Human biology?  Aging?  These are hard, immutable facts that we all have to deal with in our own way.

I'm substitute teaching now, but still looking for something full time.  I think he'd be pleased though.  He grew up dirt poor, and education was his pathway to having an amazing and fulfilling life.  I think he'd appreciate all my stories about the good days and the bad days.  I'm also missing simple things like watching college football with him, or having a meal or some coffee.

We're all deeply complicated as people.  And I think we generally do our best, and try to learn from those moments when we're not at out best.  I wish I'd given him more hugs, or been a little more patient with him.  At times it was so hard to know exactly what he wanted, and I hope just being there was usually -- certainly not always -- enough.

We miss you a lot Dad.  I know you can still hear me, sometimes, when I talk to you.  And if you're napping or busy in the garden, that's also fine.  It can wait.