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A "sugar shack" is the building in which maple syrup makers cook - or in my case finish - their sap down into syrup. Mine was once also the site of a monthly poker game; now it's World Headquarters for MSM and my woodshop. The poker game has moved into the house - no room in the Shack anymore - but in the good old days my mates dealt cards while syrup "finished" on the stove, taking regular breaks to dunk rolled up ham slices into hot syrup. The cards were always sticky and it was damn cold out there, but no one complained too much. This page is my place for occasional observations and whatnot. I have identified at least two regular
readers, if you count myself and my patient, long suffering wife Jane,
who claims to enjoy it over coffee at work.
19 February 2012 - we had to put the Pony down recently. In a calendar year in which we lost my Dad and then, tragically, my brother Rick, it's just amazing that the death of a pet could be the trigger for the release of pent up grief of the rawest sort. That's all I have to say about that.
26 July 2011 - FISH STORY
fly
fishing last nite around dusk when my friend Craig hooked a catfish.
things got all tangled up, including his "cheater" glasses in the line,
so he cut it, set the fish aside and began to untangle. just then I, who
had spent much un zen-like time swimming and actually being towed a few
feet by a tough little bass I'd hooked,
went into Craig's truck for a smoke, which set off his alarm system.
The cops had just pulled in and wanted to know what I was doing next to a
honking truck...meanwhile Craig, though downriver some, fished for his
keys and was trying to silence the vehicle from a distance. Something
made him turn around just in time to see Mr. Catfish flip into the
water, line and Craig's glasses in tow. My take on this event is that
there is one catfish who now has no vision related excuse to ever bite
bass bait again, and that Craig should continue to go cheap on the
cheaters, which get legs (or fins) with alarming frequency.
July 18 2011 - "Donner, party of one...?"
Speaking of Hamster Fratricide and Cannibalism... today
we found the late Fatty, Petco's 2011 Plastic Ball Derby champion, not
only dead in his new habitat but also, well, chewed on a little bit.
Aside from the grief Fatty's untimely passing occasioned (we hadn't even
put him out to stud yet, owing to disagreement about his actual
gender), this raises some uncomfortable questions about his roommate,
Poppy, particularly since some fava beans and a nice chianti were also
found at the scene. Creepy.
July 6 2011
I got a root canal yesterday and must say that the strides modern dentistry (and endontristry, to be precise) have made in pain alleviation and overall patient comfort are damn impressive. I don't know about you but when this soon to be 50-year-old was a boy there were two too horrible to contemplate fates that could be  visited on a child by the adult world, both of which were frequently invoked by mean-spirited friends or siblings. One was the dreaded "rabies shots in the stomach," which we all knew happened with great frequency though no one seemed to know an actual recipient. The other, you guessed it, was a "root canal," which DID happen to people we knew and sounded, based on what we knew from our normal dentist experiences, like sheer torture. Well, maybe it was back then ( in my mind's fuzzy eye I see me strapped to the chair while my not so Laurence Olivieresque dentist hisses "Is it safe?"), but now I've had one myself, administered by a competent young doctor who worked gently and talked me through the entire thing, and it just ain't that bad. Oh, except for the thousand bucks for a one hour procedure. THAT was torture.
July 5 2011 Tangled Up In Blue Jay (sorry, Bob Dylan)
Early
one morning the sun was shining I was lying in bed
wondering what was that
ruckus outside that was messing with my head so I wandered out of the back of my
house just to try to figure it out and all at once it came plain to me and I began to
scream and shout the cat was headed down the path the wrong way lookin'
scared enough to pee twice and from where she came was a big blue jay busy
just messing with all the mice that way they do tangled up in blue
Now
the blue jay knows hes a beautiful bird but he just don’t seem to care he likes
to act the bully and play the fool and terrorizes all the air he’ll chase other birds and take their
food and even swipe their nest and sometimes he’ll kill a chick or two while your
busy minding the rest he’s a ne’r do well and a vagabond he’s a thief and hes a
rake and the only thing keeps him keepin on is wondering what next he’ll take
away from you tangled up in blue
So
he’s scared my cat and he’s woke me up but still I can’t complain cause
compared to him all those birds in my feeder are really lookin’ plain can you
think of a bird from around these parts that’s got that kinda color scheme? If
he’s up close and you squint your eyes you could almost be in a dream and I
know its wrong to admire him so and his ways I don’t condone but he’s a
beautiful bird and I hope he stays and I'm sure I'm not alone so how about you?
Tangled up in blue.
June 30 2011
Caught my 2nd 18" small mouth bass in 4 days tonight; friends I fish with say they can go a few years without catching such a monster. As is my practice, I thanked him and let him go. I must be getting to be a better fly fisherman, though luck seems to be the prevailing theme. There's something mighty exciting and satisfying hooking one of these creatures - most likely 6 years old or so by the time they reach that size - on a fly rod, especially when "surface" or top water fishing using imitation bugs that plunk down on the water and float. Fly fishing is a wonderful sport, and we are blessed round these parts with superior small mouth habitat that makes it both rewarding and a beautiful thing to do.
June 26 2011
Street Fest was a success, overall and
for MSM. Thanks everyone who stopped by to say hello, and thanks for
your support of our little enterprise.
May 27 2011: Deer Prudence...
Downloaded another app...this one
purports to read and translate deer thoughts while you're driving. It
really works! Got this tidbit today on Ridge Road:  OLDER DEER:
Ok, here comes a car. I've taught you everything I know...you want in
the frat? Well now its your turn to shine. Ready?
YOUNGER DEER: Ready as I'll ever be...
OLDER DEER: Remember, wait till the last possible second. Here it comes. Steady, steady, now... GO!
(I
may have clipped this deer's tail as he bolted in front of me...I don't
know because I was too busy reading the app output on my phone and not
relating to my real life. anyway, it continued...)
OLDER DEER
(shouting across the road): Great! You made it! You're in the
fraternity! No, wait! Stay there! Do not recross the road! Go back! Do
not re...ow, that's gotta hurt! Stupid young buck. Hey, what are you
lookin' at pledge? Never seen a hazing accident before?
RANDOM YOUNGER DEER: Yes sir! I mean no sir! I mean...
OLDER DEER: Shut your piehole, pledge. You're up next...
It went on but I got bored and started to watch the road while I drove. Who knew deer were such social animals?
 May 26 2011:
Woodpecker Chatter - downloaded an app
that translates the communications between the 5 or so woodpecker
species that grace our little slice of heaven. Overheard this am:
pileated: forget mating today, this is one sweet tree...
downy: nice. where are you?
hairy: yeah, no bogarting...
pileated: you chuckle heads think I'm sharing, you're crazy
downy & hairy in unison: dick
flicker: forget him guys. the action's great here down on the ground. haven't seen a cat all morn........
May 24 2011:
Inside The Mind of a Cat
Downloaded
another cool app yesterday...it detects and translates what my cats
Mister and Sammy are thinking. Here's a snippet from this morning:
Mister (on window sill,yawning): hey Sammy, what's on your schedule today?
Sammy (on nicest chair, yawning): dunno. sleep maybe. Why?
Mister: I think I figured out a way into the hamster cage, but it's going to take both of us.
Sammy: I don't know, man. You know I work alone.
Mister: C'mon, dude, these are the HAMSTERS I'm talking about!
Sammy: OK, but I got dibs on the fat one.
Mister: Whatever. Meet me at the cage after fourth nap. We'll rest for awhile, eat, take a nap, then bust them hamsters.
Sammy: roger that.
May 11 2010 - Off to the Races
"Fatty," one half of our stable of
Chinese Dwarf hamsters, recently ran away from a strong field at PetCo's
annual "Hamsters Running Around In Plastic Balls Derby." While Fatty's
lineage is not known, he must have inherited his blazing finishing speed
from sturdy - and perhaps a bit ornery - forebears. Fatty was attended
by his trainers Erin and Katy Super, and received a ribbon, a supply of
free hamster chow, and a brand new hamster habitat for his troubles. The
only negative was the fact that the average age of the trainers of the
other hamsters -none dwarf like Fatty, by the way - was roughly 6 years
old, and there were some tears in the clubhouse after the race. Sad, but
not our problem, because like Charlie Sheen, our Fatty is "WINNING."
9 May 2010
On this Mother's Day I have this to report; within three days of one another we were visited by two luna moths, males both, which were clearly near the end of their brief 7 day life span, presumably having mated and now fated to die. They were/are beautiful and mysterious, and we were tickled to have provided their final resting spots.
 
5 May 2010
At the lathe is a very bad place to have a temper tantrum; paradoxically, if one is learning and trying out new tools, techniques and ever more ambitious projects, it is a place where such outbursts are likely to occur. I'm trying to be patient with myself, mature in the "oh well, I guess that doesn't work well" way, but its tough when you've got time and big expectations invested in a piece. It's a good way to practice patience, and humility.
27 April 2008
The Panhandle Earth Day Celebration was awesome, despite some rain that undoubtedly kept some folks away. Sold some stuff, made some new friends, and dug some great music. My neice Lauren  came down to help out, which was great fun. Stephanie Unger and EarthVibe have got it going on, folks. Hopefully this event will continue to become the defining event in April in our area.
8 April 2010
Thanks to some generous friends we stayed in Atlantic City for a couple of days after Easter. I lost $10 at Ballys - gambling's not my bag, baby - and found some crazy great sea glass that should be showing up in some wood jewelry soon. This was our bedroom view - that's the Hilton and the Tropicana in the picture. Looking forward to Earth Day in the Panhandle...
18 March 2010My bride and I went on a "pub crawl" with friends for St. Patrick's Day, though we only hit two spots and no actual crawling was done that I know of. We ended the nite well short of our destination chiefly because we ran into a young guitar genius - Paul Pfrau (sp?) and some of his friends and didn't want to move on. I was put in mind of the late great Stevie Ray Vaughn, and when Paul, who is as friendly as he is talented heard me mention "Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)" while he warmed up he played those classic first riffs flawlessly. He's on the bill for Earth Day in the Panhandle, so I'm a little stoked about that, since I'll be there vending... 13 March 2010 I wrapped up the sugarin' season a few days ago - the outbreak of warm nights spelled an early end to a season that started late cause of the cold. Makes me wonder whether from this unique perch as a sap farmer I'll be able to discern the effects of global warming better than I would have as a mere citizen who spends most of his time indoors, or at least indifferent to temperature changes outside. Lotsa work went into producing less than 9 gallons of maple syrup. Now the cookers are retired for another year, the sap buckets are nestling nested inside one another on a shop shelf, and it's (almost) time to go to market. We'll be intermittent in our attendance this year - not enough product to last the market season otherwise - but we;ll be there. Hope to see ya! March 2010 Though I've had lots of thinking time lately, what with the sugarin' season and all (note to self: watched pots DO boil - just not fast enough), I haven't had much time to muse aloud. Today, however, I caught up with an old friend and the subject of much of our conversatioin was lemonade making when life serves up lemons. When I really think about it, my favorite people in this world tend to be the one's who, for one reason or another, have had some some tough knocks. When folks who have suffered - and we all do at least a little - what seems like more than their share, and then manage to come out charging, even if in a different direction (sometimes mean spirits call this retreating but not me), they often tend to emerge as kinder, gentler versions of their old selves. Most often, they're the best at understanding WHAT'S IMPORTANT NOW, which, if you can get your head around it, is really all there is to knowing how to live a good life. In my opinion, that is. 12 February 2010 The winter wonderland we've experienced has put a major hurt on a lot of enterprises; MSM's pure maple syrup production is one of them. I just placed the first taps today - on a limited number of trees - and here we  are almost 10 days into the "season," judging by the last two years operations. For someone who has otherwise never "farmed" anything to speak of, much less a valuable crop such as maple sap, I've had my eyes opened as to vagaries and caprice of weather. Maybe the season will extend beyond usual, making up for the deficit we've already incurred, but that's not likely. Plus, I've heard tell of more snow and freezing temps to come. Bummer.  On a happier maple note, resident science genius and maple sap gathering buddy Katy won her division at the county science fair for her presentation "Tappin' It," a statistical analysis of last year's production. Given the cheerful maner with which she involved herself in all aspects of the process, her scientific prowess is doubly heartening to that maple bore, her old man. 27 January 2010 Gearing up for maple tapping season I am converting my woodshop back into its original identity as the Sugar Shack. Exciting as the approach of maple time is I realize I will miss woodworking for the next several weeks, particularly my contemplative but eventful moments before the lathe. My plan is to keep at least one aspect of the woodworking alive as I collect and boil maple sap. We had our own maples trimmed by my friend Norman Hilbert of Blue Ridge Tree & Landscape Service, resulting in an abundance of awesome "rock maple" walking sticks in the making; I will peel the bark and do some whittling while I watch the syrup and tend the fires. Also, the poker game will move back out to the Sugar Shack during this time, which tends inevitably to make the banter between players a little bit coarser, with some downright bawdy thrown in. I'm cool with that. 21 January 2010 Last night attended DC area stopover of "International Guitar Night" at the Barns at Wolftrap. Currently touring are Israeli nylon string guitarist Itamar Erez, German guitarist Lulo Reinhardt (yes, THOSE Reinharts), Brian Gore, and my new favorite, harp guitraist and slide master Stephen Bennett, shown playing one of his harp guitars.  Pretty incredible virtuosity, variety of styles and themes, and, of course, collaborative brilliance. Kinda made me ache for those abandoned 3rd grade guitar lessons. Also, on a more practical note, I have decided to make (someday) a guitar, most likely for my friend Craig, who turned me on to the book "Claptons' Guitar," about one of America's foremost luthiers. Craig is, honest to God, probably the most unlikely "muse" I could ever imagine having, and yet, he's the one who convinced me and continues to insist that with some experience and more skills under my belt, I could do it. By the way, all my companions last night - including two very cool new friends - are guitarists; one of the highlights of the evening was hearing them chatter on the ride home about what they'd heard and seen. 31 December 2009 By the light of the Blue Moon I went out this morning - my daughter's birthday morning - to get something from the Sugar Shack, and I came upon this serpentine walking stick-in-the-making casually leaned  against the building, under the welcome light. Backstory: a new friend, Scott, brought me some great sticks not long ago and this was one of them. We've swapped a few things - he "canoe sails" the river and took my old Sears fake birch bark canoe for that - and this stick is definitely one of the cooler barter items I've received in a long time. I saw a great shining snake up on its tail as I approached the Shack, realized that I'd leaned it there during daylight, and literally ran for the camera. I think its kind of dramatic and when I showed the photo to the Birthday Girl - my budding professional photographer and official maple sap collection engineer Katy - she agreed. That's high praise, trust me. By the way, to get the skinny on just exactly what a "Blue Moon" is, check out http://www.skyandtelescope.com/observing/objects/moon/3304131.html. Turns out the usual explanation is folkloric at best, and, again as usual, it's a whole lot more complicated than we thought. 29 December 2009When you can't sleep what do you count? If you answered "sheep" to yourself just now then not only are you talking to your computer but you are also relying on what researchers at Oxford University have found to be an inferior means of lulling yourself to la la land when suffering from insomnia.  You are in good company, no doubt; since at least 1832 people in western cultures have sought relief in this way, but its effectiveness - unless of course it really works for you - is doubtful. Better to imagine a beach or waterfall, these researchers say, as a means of basically actively boring yourself to sleep. Right now I am going to give it a try: my twist will be counting actual waterfalls I've visited, including those in Yosemite, Bushkill Falls, Great Falls in Virgina, and of course, Niagra, but from the Canadien side. There, I'm done and yes, still awake. Maybe I'll give the mutton a try after all. 21 December 2009 As I scramble to finish last minute customer-requested holiday gifts before the 24th I've managed to make some time to document more Christmas tree "willage" life, this set representing the return to relative calm among the good folk of the Christmas Willage after the giant cat attack pictured earlier. Here they play, pray, and pitch woo, etc...     
20 December 2009 19 December 2009 Big doings round here today, starting with the "historic" snowfall that has graced this, my birthday. Might we get 19 magic inches of snow this day? I hadn't much cared for snow these last few years...getting too old I reckon, but I seem to have gotten old enough this day to be excited about it again, which, besides peace on earth and the love of my family - my annual gift requests that frustrate that same family no end - makes a fine gift indeed. The Sugar Shack has doubled in size, the new wing buttoned down against the weather just last evening, in the nick of time. Perhaps poker will now make a comeback in the mancave? And finally this: news of the arrival - not without some attendant difficulties we hope will resolve themselves and soon - of a new little person to a fine pair of human beings that happen to be dear friends. Ah life! Sometimes you're as hard as I can bear, and then, just like that, you make me want to squeeze every molecule of you out there at once. 18 December 2009 "Panic on the streets of London," Stephen Morrissey of the Smiths warbled those many moons ago during another lifetime I like to drop in on from time to time. Could he have been describing such a scene as played out tonite in our little Christmas "willage" under the tree, where Mister the Cat dropped in for some quality Godzilla time? Amateur photog that I am, I think I captured faithfully the initial reactions of at leasat some of the resident's of that tiny burg to the unexpected presence of a giant feline in their midst. Disbelief. Panic. Nonchalance. It's all there, as these few representative photos suggest. 8 December 2009 One of those much discussed work-related mishaps that always seem to have happened to the person I'm talking to but never to me actually occurred last night, leaving me just a little bit bloodied but a whole lot of not present, so to speak, in the moment for a tick. Table saw kick-backs don't involve graft or money; rather, they feature flying objects (lets be plain - honkin' chunks of hardwood usually) that have been hurled back at the sawyer by a blade that you just know has to be extremely angry to do the work it does. I am sporting a red lump and small gash on my forehead and consider myself to be very lucky to be doing so. Two inches south and they might still be picking pieces of my glasses out of my eyesocket. When it happened I went down and stayed decidedly down for a few minutes. As concussive a blow as that can cause a man to take a moment or two to review things that are important to him, like his head and all the neat features it entails, for instance. Eventually, I called my daughter to come help me get it together; she was predictably compassionate once she understood she wasn't in trouble. I called it quits for the night and vowed never again to do whatever it was I did to piss off the table saw. 1 December 2009 Did some futile research on "the google" today on toxic woods after having an Osage Orange-induced partial asthma attack. Actually, it was mulberry, but they're in the same family, and both make me sneeze, cough, wheeze, and feel like crap.  [I submit that it's just this kind of suffering for one's art that is the hallmark of a true believer in craftsmanship, blah, blah, blah.] Anyway, I say futile because none of the 4 or 5 official looking lists I found mentioned either tree in the noxious/toxic context. One was clearly outdated - or just wrong - it said Osage Orange trees only grow in the central states and that they don't get very big. Pish. BTW, have you seen a "hedgeapple" lying in the road around here? Do you call them "monkey brains" like I do? Well, stay away from the sawdust cause it'll put a hurtin on your respiratory system. You may ask, doesn't the respirator or mask you wear provide some protection? I don't know the answer to that, because I don't use those those lung saving safety devices, mostly because I like to smoke while I work! Yay! 23 November 2009 - I have a bizarre new hobby: I am a beard collector. I've had beards off and on since I was 17, and more than once freaked out the fathers of prom dates with my early whiskers. The night before entering the service I shaved off a real mountain man number. The best beard I ever had, however, was a great big old reddish brown curly rascal that actually earned a role as a Scottish clan leader in the Apollo Theater's production of "Brigadoon." That beard went rogue, however, and stormed off to its trailer one too many times.  Alas I, the mere beard platform, never sang that immortal line, "To the hills," or whatever it was the director had foolishly entrusted to me. Anyway, I went beardless for a long while after that experience, until a few years ago, when I grew the "Badger." The thing about the Badger  was, he was ornery and, if not fearsome, then he'd do till fearsome came along. People learned to not make direct eye contact (Katy learned the hard way), cause he felt threatened by that and, if you were really unlucky (or dim enough to keep looking), he'd get around to feeling CORNERED pretty easy. Bad scene, dude. By the way, the photographer who got the candid shot of the Badger at right may never know how big a risk he was taking...the Badger HATED flashes of any kind. Anyway, I recently shaved off the Badger, who was lately morphing into a Civil War cavalry officer kind of vibe anyway, at the indirect yet blatant suggestion of my wife. But of course I hated my face when I first saw all of it after such a long time (no chin!), so immediately cast about for a new face "do." I found the amusing and helpful chart at left on the net, posted it in the kitchen, and began soliciting recommendations. I got quite a few, many from friends of my daughters' who hadn't actually looked me in the face for a year or so because of the Badger. I have what my wife calls a "chia chin," meaning as long as I keep it watered that thing'll sprout quick, so I basically have an erasable canvass on which to display the fruits of my bizarre new hobby. I've been dared to work my way through the whole chart - to "collect" each beard, if you will. Of course I accepted that dare without hesitation or reservation, so heads up for the next few years if you see me coming your way looking like a Ray Bradbury paperback cover illustration. For my first beard, already under way and doing well thank you, I have selected from the chart the "Zappa." 22 November 2009 - This is Sammy, one of our cats.  She appears to be one of those dogs that are trapped in the body of a feline. Gender confusion, usually the source of at least some difficulty in humans, is probably a whole lot less complicated than species confusion, I'd guess, but to judge from Sammy's daily routine and overall general appearance of health and contentment, thinking she's a dog works. Canininity (new word, I think) is a fine trait for a cat to possess, in my view. I look at this way: she's got all the cat moves (oh if the Pony could climb trees after hated squirrels) and cool, but also displays that slavish devotion to us bipeds that is the hallmark of domestic dogdom. I really dig Sammy, always have, even after that time she pulled a Blue Jay (kinda the a-hole of birds, come to think of it) right out of the sky. She is a killer, I have to admit, but what are you gonna do? 20 November 2009 - I've started a wood collection. Not the piles of "stock" I am constantly scrounging, treating, and storing (and using!), but an actual collection of wood samples, called specimens by some. As you might imagine, there is of course no dearth of fanatical wood collectors in the world; they have societies and journals and range from hobbyists like me to hard core scientific types. A couple of interesting things I've learned from my research so far: it turns out that while its fairly certain that there are roughly 640 species of tree in North America, no one knows for sure how many different trees there are on Earth. Some say as many as 10,000 - who knows? Be sure, its a lot. There is lots of confusion as to identification and classification of tree species, some of which I'll touch upon later on the "It's About The Wood" page, but it's all very interesting, One thing I know - I'm having none of the usual practice of maintaining uniform 6" samples of each wood species. I've got little 2" pieces of cool wood already, and I don't feature wasting a bunch more for a sample if I'm ever lucky enough to come across more later. Also, whenever I get a good display together I plan on putting a photo here on the site and, more importantly, displaying a board at shows that I do. People like that kind of thing, I've found from my educational materials on syrup-making. Also, I am kind of a geek that way (he said, unashamedly). 12 November 2009 - Love em or hate em, there's no ignoring our dogs. Here Sunny and Charlie rehearse a pivotal scene from their upcoming film vehicle, the Spielberg prequel, the working title of which is "Close Encounters of the 3rd Kind III: The Initial, Ultimately Meaningless For Lack of Intelligent Life Here Contact." As you can see, they and the rest of The Herd like to gather in the kitchen, where food and humans are often stored. I believe this is an ancient, primordial instinct within them that predates the domestication of animals by man, the advent of fire, and, paradoxically, the invention of the kitchen itself. Indeed, whenever and wherever dogs and cats can be said to have first evolved, I'm fairly certain it was in whatever space in geologic time that can be said to have predated - and predicted - the kitchen.  
11 November - Well, it's Veteran's Day, and even as I give thanks for their service to all veterans everywhere, I'd be lying if I said I was feeling celebratory, or even good. I feel uneasy tonight, as war and the prospect for more war seem to grow, and indeed hint at new fronts opened. The distinction between crimes and war, and the tragic consequences of their intertwining, are weighing heavy on my mind tonight. Sorry. 10 November 2009 - Happy Birthday and Semper Fi, Marines all over the world, and I hope you get home soon, safe. On a completely unrelated note, I found this little dried up marine chelicerate arthropod (Horseshoe Crab, or Limulus polyphemus), as I sorted through my parents' things in preparation for selling their house. If you know them you may know they are now living elsewhere, together, dealing with illness and old age. My Mom has saved many seashells, gathered over the years during countless trips to the old family beach house, in Bethany Beach, Delaware.  Everyone who either has their own, or has come across such a stash - shells, stones, leaves, twigs, it could be anything - collected by a loved one, is familiar with those feelings of connectedness we can get - to nature, to our memories, to each other - from such simple finds. Among my Mom's shells was this diminutive armored fellow, (minus the spiny tail). Trust me when I say he's way smaller than the hundreds I stepped on as kid in the surf. The really cool thing about finding him as I did, to me anyway, is that I happen to have a friend (Dave) who is not only a really average poker player (undeserved cheap shot) and generous soul to boot (a good combo in a friend, that), but also a leading expert on these critters. I've seen specimens in his home and I'm sure he has collected enough for two lifetimes, but I couldn't resist making a gift for him, particularly since he is putting me into some really choice walnut from his stock. The Mahogany base was salvaged from another project; the crab came to me courtesy of Mother Nature and my Mom. 4 November 2009 - I really don't know why I hate ants so much, but I do. Lately I've been coming across them in bunches as I split or chainsaw punky trees looking for firewood or turning stock or both. Today an otherwise innocent looking chunk of Cherry gushed forth an ant explosion of alarming proportion; they were big old black carpenter ants and judging by the condition of the interior wood they'd been hunkering down in there for a while, chewing, minding eggs, tending their queen and whatever else it is that they do out of sight, in the dark protection of a tree's insides. This could all be and probably is very interesting stuff, especially to some people, but I just don't care for ants at all. Did I have an unfortunate and unremembered nasty brush with a pile of them as an infant, at a picnic maybe where nobody was watching? Or perhaps I've just dreamed of battalions of army ants, which loom large in the young imagination indeed as they march grimly northward, ravaging everything (including cows!) in their path as they cut a swath of destruction through the land that might have rendered dumbstruck even General Sherman himself. I just don't get it. Hating clowns? That I get. Everybody hates clowns, right? I think they may even hate themselves, which probably just makes them more scary. So here's the thing: if my animus toward ants and clowns is really about FEAR, then consider the horrendous possibilities if the two were somehow joined. What if a clown dressed up as an ant? Or, what if ant colonies, just to wile away the very little idle time they seem to have, amused themselves by watching ant clowns entertain them? I only bring it up because today I happened to accidentally see the hateful picture on the left, which, while not technically depicting an ant clown, comes pretty damn close. The mind reels, and none of what's dancing through it just now is pretty. These are unpleasant thoughts I'm thinking. Not big thoughts, no doubt, but spooky and unpleasant nonetheless. Time to get to my happy place, which at this hour is bed. 1 November 2009 - Last night we hosted our annual Halloween "trick-or-treat as a great excuse to eat chile and drink copius amounts of tasty beverages" gala. I happen to be a chili making machine (immodest, but the truth nontheless) and we are told by regular attendees that they start looking forward to it by mid-September. As our progeny have gotten older the initial character of the event - adults parking themselves here to visit while their kids go door to door in a safe neighborhood - has changed. Now large gangs of high schoolers come to hang out in between "being seen" downtown or elsewhere, while the adults, blithely unconcerned with said high schoolers, party in that goofy way that overeducated grownups of a certain age tend to do. Lots of talk and laughter revolving around politics, cultural matters, dropped names and ever so slightly randy banter. We used to throw a themed costume party at the train station to celebrate our anniversary; I'd dj and the last year we had karaoke. I went as Spongebob Squarepants. I kinda miss that party... 20 October 2009 - Halloween is just around the corner, World Series berths are being decided, walnuts are rocketing to terra firma with a vengeance, sweatshirts and fleeces are making their appearances, the maple leaves in the front yard are turning, and yes, "sugarin' season" is not too far off. Is there a better time of the year than Autumn? Not in my book. | |
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