a walk in the woods

captured on the way down

We took an hour out of our busy schedules to walk in a nearby woods, dodging falling leaves and scattered raindrops. I am fairly certain that a walk in the woods does more good for me than the new stuff the doc prescribed yesterday for the ol' systolic and diastolic. Almost as good as petting a dog. So it was gloomy with clouds, and spittin' raindrops, but we ventured in anyway. Some pictures:

Z-A Monday: K

He knew it was time. Time to kick-start this life, to sing that karmic karaoke, to key in on life's kinks (and its keepers) and just keep on keepin' on.

Yet, he felt a bit knackered. But, hey, he was knee-deep in this journey; no time to kick back now. Hardly seemed kosher!

To kick things off, he held the key to a slightly used Kia Rio; away he kazoomed.

The Life Book kinda creeped him out. Was Wendy indeed a keeper? Or the kooky buzz-kill of his recent past? Would her kindred spirit help end his Kafkaesque life of late? Was some strange karma at work? Or was this just some knee-jerk reaction? He wasn't too keen on the prospect, but felt a certain kinship, a knowledge of what would, ultimately, be best.

Keeping an even keel, he kicked the Kia into overdrive. Thinking ahead three weeks, He Headed for Home.

Scenes from Safari

Took the day off and it is raining (and "leafing"), so I am trying to get some things cleared out inside. So I am going back to last weekend and sharing a few pictures from our trip up to the African Safari Park near Port Clinton. It is always a good time, although I do fear for my car's paint job when the water buffalo show up. I love the picture of our son with his new buddy, the camel. I'm not sure who was makin' the goofiest face...


And... some unfinished business. As reported in an addendum to a previous post, the cat's owner surfaced. An acquaintance of hers had alerted her to our classified ad in the local paper, and she described the cat to a "T", thus passing our ownership test. The cat lives about a block away, and is an indoor cat who evidently slipped out through a window and, upon finding our deck, thought it was his deck. Here he is, last weekend, being examined by our daughter's puggle (and being very, VERY tolerant, I would say...)

Do You Trust Your GPS?

Took a trip down to Appalachian Ohio yesterday. I decided to play a little game called "Blindly follow your GPS No Matter What". It worked great going down US 250 to I-77 and heading down 77 to Southeast Ohio. Then it had me exit on SR 831 or something. Well, 831 was closed 11 miles down the road, but fortunately the GPS routed me onto some County road. Well...the county road was five miles that looked and felt like this:
But I was in the game for keeps, so I stuck to the route. Eventually it dumped me out on a nicely paved State Route and I was on my way, only about 15 minutes later than original ETA projections.

My destination was a meeting I was running on doing a community strategic plan. You know, that process where you figure out where you want to go, and then tryt to figure out how to get there. I had a pretty good example of having the "vision" of where to go, but not so much the actual tactics to get there...

Ah...That's better!

Z-A Monday: A Lucid Look at Life

Xavier lifted the large volume, admiring its gold leaf cover. He leafed through it, looking at the cover page ("Lessons for Living"), then started in on page one.

"You should be a Leader, not a Loser. Heed these Lessons; you shall be Lavishly rewarded.
What is your Lot in Life? Is there Laughter? Or are you Languishing in a Lukewarm existence? Do you seek a new Lease on Life? Is your Love Life Lackluster?"

So far, seemed like typical new age Lunacy. He skipped to mid-book, and read the leading lines:

"Law #86: When life gives you Lemons, Lose them

Law #87: Light the Lamp, then Listen

Law #88: Let Love be your Landlord

Law #89: Life is Linear; Not Lucky"

These seemed to come out of left field, suitable for the landfill; no logic at all. Then Law 90 leapt off the page.

"Law 90: When you Let her go, you felt Liberated. Leaving her Lightened your Load. But she shall Land in your Life again. And you shall Lament that you ever Lost her.

Law 91: Learn to Love Lettuce at Lunch..."

OK, Xavier thought, the list was getting loopy again. He closed the book and loped down the lawn, suddenly feeling just a little lonely.

it keeps coming back

Ever try to center a cat in a picture? Not sure it can be done.

The new deck is a big draw for this fella, a declawed, neutered male cat age maybe 5 or 6. It stayed overnight Sunday then we let it out Monday and it went away. We assumed it went home. We were glad it was gone and hopeful that it had found its home. Then at dinner tonight I looked out on the deck and...

We took it to the vet - no chip so no ID. They said it was well enough cared for. Next step is a free ad in the paper and canvassing the neighborhood to find its owner. We can't keep it. Linda's and Em's allergies preclude felines. So it is short term lodging for this fella.

Addendum: The cat is gone! Its owners described it to a "T" and indeed passed the owners' test, and took it home today - It lives a block away. A bittersweet departure - I had grown fond of that kittie.

a public service notice from streetpolo

Just interjecting here: If you ever get that desire to watch a live feed of ELEVEN German Shepherd puppies, head on over to this site . It's a hoot!

Z-A Monday - A Mountaintop Moment

Xavier motored away in his Mercury Monterey mini-van he bought for minimal money down. He made for the mountains, looking for a magical, meaningful, mind-boggling moment.

While the past few days were memorable, they were not so meaningful - just marginally so. Something was missing; time to miss the mainstream stuff, and meddle with the mediocrity of it all.

As he made his way up the mountain road, he felt his life was like a map with a maze of multiple routes. Like a trip to the Multiplex - Which movie was his? He sought some mystical mountaintop message. Was he mad to do this? A mental case? A Meshuggener?

He stopped the Monterey to use a men's room; as he made his way, a meteor flashed by overhead, passing the moon. Was this whole trip a journey to Meaningfulness, or pure Myth?
He looked down. On the ground was a booklet marked with the words: "Your Manual". He picked it up, and moved on.

Good Weather + Saturday = Opportunities

A good day to get outside, after a couple days of rain and gloom. We were off to a "fall fun fest" put on by our county soil and water conservation district. It's rural Americana at its finest. The county Commissioners judge chili concoctions. Balloons everywhere. Master gardeners showing off their stuff. Free cider and donuts. Kids decorating pumpkins and climbing up the hay bale pyramid. Horse drawn wagon rides. All set in a big barn at the fairgrounds, amidst a backdrop of fall foliage.

Linda was there at the First Book table, giving free books out to kids who wanted them. First Book is a great cause. In this era of videogames and, well, computer screens, it is important to show children how reading books can be a lifelong adventure.

But enough of this - I need to get outside!

Z-A MONDAY N is for

NOTHING.

Xavier is taking a well-deserved week off. The guy is tired. It's been a rough few weeks, and he needs to shake it off a bit.

As does the writer. There are no creative juices available just now. Going for those juices is like when you are at a convention or workshop, and the 10:00 session lets out, and you could go for one more cup of coffee, and you find the coffee stand, and there is the coffee server, and you press down on the little valve, and nothing comes out, so you look around, and no one's looking, so you tip the whole thing forward, and out comes about a half-inch of coffee, and that's all you get.

That's where I am right now. My employer does an annual "agency day" where all the employees get together in a big venue somewhere, and there is a speaker, and some awards for years of longevity, and then there is this gap in the afternoon. This other guy and I have been emcees for this thing in past years. This year we get to fill those last couple of hours. We are the roadblock between 400 or so employees and their weekend. So we need some decent content.

This year we are going for a talk show, Leno-like affair (notice I did not say "Letterman-like affair"; other connotations!) and although this thing is far from finalized, there are enough interesting components to make it somewhat fun. Among other things, we got this band put together, and I wrote some lyrics, and I will be a sort of Paul Shaffer, and it may be a hoot (or not...) Now we are trying to string enough little fragments of ideas together to make a go of this thing, but it has become an all-consuming monster, and of course the "day job" does not relent, so there we are with no Xavier this week.

Back Next time.

Z-A Mondays: the Obscure O

Xavier moved in closer to see what was originating from the park.
In among the oaks, it turned out, were ornithologists, ogling their surroundings.

"OK", Xavier inquired, "Where is your obsession leading here?"
"We are open to anything, but offhand, we are only looking to up our overall bird count", opined Oliver, the organizer of the ornithologists.
"This group, in the past year, has added orioles, owls, ovenbirds, even ostriches, and in one case, an ochre collared piculet, to their lists."
Another called, "Don't forget the eurasian oystercatcher!"
And yet another "Oh! And that absolutely ostentatious orange beaked woodpecker!"

You could not overstate these people's awe, or their optimism in pressing on.
"Here", said Oliver, "Take a gander", handing Xavier a pair of opaque binocs.
Xavier scanned the open land and the sky overhead, stopping at one particularly ornate specimen.
"So, Oliver, what is this one?"
Oliver obliged and, once his orbs focused on the subject, let out an "Oh....my......"
The other ornithologists all trained their lenses on the object of interest, and almost in unison, nearly screamed...
"AN....OCELLATED....ANTBIRD....!!!!!!!"
"Can't be right...obviously wrong", Oliver muttered. "That species originates out of Colombia... Costa Rica..."
Another ornithologist named Oona officially recognized the find as Xavier's, noting "We shall duly note in the annals of ornithological observation that this....Xavier...., only an amateur, observed this precious ocellated antbird on this day. The bird is off-season, off-continent, and awfully far from home, yet there it is."
Lots of ooohing and awwing from the ornithologists.
Oona asked "Xavier, "Would you oblige us with your signature to evidence your original observation of the ocellated antbird?"
Xavier, writing his name in outsized letters, was overflowing with pride. But he knew he needed to move on, maybe obtain a room for the night, and outline and weigh his overall options tomorrow.

Note: Those bird types...All real, somewhere on the planet!

Z-A Monday - In the Pokey

The policeman motioned Xavier to sit in the cruiser for a pop down to the precinct quarters. Xavier wordlessly proceeded to the car, and headed downtown for processing.

He couldn't get over his plight; headed for prison. The pen. The pokey.

After processing, emptying his pockets, and a mug photo, Xavier was led to a holding cell full of, he figured, pickpockets, pimps, punks, and pranksters gone bad. He didn't even know where he'd place his "one phone call". What would be his punishment? When would he be paroled? He should have stayed a pirate!

He pondered further. How could he have prevented this? How did he fall such easy prey? Positively shouldn't have taken the plunge with these people.

Eventually, a fairly plain but yet pretty young public defender named Pam entered his cell to discuss his plight. He proclaimed his innocence; she preferred that he cop a plea. His predicament was not improving.

After a few more perplexing minutes, a jailer walked over, unlocked the padlocked door, and motioned Xavier out. Pam asked what precipitated this exit, and the policeman pointed to the front desk. "Ask Pierce, up there."

Xavier and Pam pressed Pierce for an explanation.

Pierce responded: "We're springing you. We caught the posse that pilfered that place on Quimby. They persuaded us that you were an innocent bystander. Thought they'd get preferred treatment if we pardoned you. Well, that's a pipe dream, but you're free to go."

Xavier picked up his pocket contents, penned his signature for release, and pulled open the precinct house's door.

Pam asked "Do you need a ride somewhere?" She pointed to a parked, aging Pontiac Grand Prix at the curb.

Pam seemed personable enough, but the truth was that Xavier had no place to go.

"Nah, I guess I'll just be a pedestrian."

This purported "vacation" was certainly no picnic. As he plodded on, passing a park, he noticed some people with binoculars, scanning the poplars and pines. He sauntered over to take a peek.

Weird new backyard object

We finally made the move and enlisted the help of a couple handy friends to extend our deck out over a place where the grass never grows anyway. So now we have these 4x4s sticking up at all heights, and we need to figure out the railings. But the deck is great fun; we've eaten our first two meals out there, grilled our first steaks. Enjoying it immensely, cramming in the deck time before, all too soon, the cold winds blow and we're sweeping leaves - then shoveling you-know-what - off the surface.

The Fabs Are back

Well, of course they are not, really, back. They split four decades ago! Only two still move about the face of the earth, the other two consigned to that place the Righteous Brothers call "Rock and Roll Heaven".

Every once in a while there is something to stir the soul of those of us who grew up to the tuneage (as Bucky Katt would doubtless say) of the Fab Four. Last time, it was that "Love" CD, that captured the cleverly edited soundtrack to the Cirque du Soleil show in Vegas. Before that, maybe it was the anthologies. And all along, Paul has managed to pump out some quite credible stuff. OK, even really GOOD stuff, as is the case of his last couple of records, in my humble...

But, ever since neighborhood buddies Tom and Gerald wore me down and convinced me that this was good stuff, and actually before that, when I bought my first pop music "45", "I Want to Hold Your Hand" b/w "I Saw Her Standing There", these four mop tops have been constant soundtrack among all the more transitory ones.

So now there are new remasters of the entire oeuvre. I needed a piece of this, and bought a remastered Revolver, Sgt. Pepper, and Abbey Road. I have not even had time to properly listen to these, upstairs, with my '60's vintage Dynaco speakers, but just having them is quite an elixir, another sip from the Fab Fountain of Youth.

Well, time is moving on, and at this point Paul may wish he could return to the day when he WAS 64. But, armed with these remasters, the old becomes new again as I seek out the subtle and sizeable differences in the new mixes. And for me, in my life, that's something. All I've got to do is dig it, any time at all. Listening to their music, four and a half decades after I was introduced to it, I feel fine.

The End.

Z-A Monday: Q - the quest continues

Feeling a bit queasy, and with no one in the Captain’s quarters, Xavier decided to quit the seafaring life, making his way from the ship to the quay. He didn’t have to wonder long about his next quest, as, ironically, a Nissan Quest careened around the corner and skidded to a stop right next to him, a quartet of scruffy dudes inside.

“Hey, you, wanna pick up a few quid?” came a voice from the Quest. “Dollars? Money?” Without question, Xavier was quick to land this quarry. He didn’t even quiz them about the job or its qualifications.

“I’m in!” was his response.

“Can you drive this car?”

“Of course”, he replied, a slightly quizzical look on his face.

He hopped in as they motioned him, quietly shifting into drive.

“Where to?”

The guy now riding shotgun, named Quincy, seeming to be the group’s quarterback, quelled his concern with vague talk about a construction job, but first mentioned a convenience store, “Quality Foods”, down the street, to grab some Cokes to quaff, quelling their thirst.

He parked in the Quality Foods lot, and the four got out, Quincy saying “Keep her running, we’ll be right back.” This all happened quite quickly, but Xavier was no quitter.

Three minutes later, the four rushed out of Quality Foods with a couple bags. As they reached the Quest, the quiet was breeched by a piercing alarm, and then sirens from adjacent Quimby Street. The bags were tossed in the Quest, but as the sirens drew near, the now-questionable quartet scattered into the quaint surrounding neighborhood.

Quavering a bit, Xavier shifted to reverse, looked up at the mirror, saw the officer motioning him to stop, and pondered the quantum leap – backwards - in his situation since yesterday. The queasiness had definitely returned.