We all walk ancientrails. Welcome to the journey.

Posts tagged Kate

A Wednesday Ahead

Yule                                                                              Stock Show Moon

Kate’s got another all sew day, this one with the needle workers. They’ll be meeting, ironically, in the much higher and more expensive home of two hospital administrators. She has a brace on her recently surgically altered left thumb which may make this day a bit trying for her. Although, she pushes through that kind of obstacle. Just that kinda gal.

My day will be Latin, review this time for Friday session with Greg, my Latin tutor.

Work out, now during the day to get push all the water I drink further away from bedtime. Trying to get my sleep more routine. Some nights I sleep well, really well. Other nights, like last night, it’s a wrassling match.

I plan to write a short essay, a prolegomena to Reimagining Faith. What is it? Why do I want to do it? What might it be? What are the elements available today that make it possible?




Summer                                                            Most Heat Moon

As the night settles gently here, Kate is home and has taken Kepler with her to bed. He sleeps in his own bed near ours.

There’s a dynamic when she’s gone, a bit unsettling, but also affirming. Let me see if I can be clear about it. We are, together, more than two, but also two. When we are apart, the twoness remains in memory, but the day-to-day facticity of it shifts. There is no other body in the bed. Nor at breakfast. Nor as the day goes by. The simple joy of a dog’s antics, wonder at some passing insect or cloud, soothing of a momentary mood, a reminder of each other’s value just by being present one to the other is lost. Only for a while, but lost anyhow.

The affirmation comes in knowing these things by their absence. The unsettling rises with this third phase certainty, some day one of us will leave and not come back. What then? The facticity of the relationship will be gone and with it all those subtle, ordinary, sacred moments that make up a common life. Death brooks no return and the loss will be in that sense total.

That is not now, for us. And I’m glad. Happy that we had this day together. And hopeful that we will have tomorrow. We do, after all, have that move to prepare.


An Ancient War

Spring                                                                 New (Emergent) Moon

Ruth and I went to Wings over the Rockies, a museum devoted to USAF planes and some 0space exhibits. They have a B1A bomber there. It’s a massive thing. It sits at the end of a row of fighters and bombers, all looking lethal in their sleakness, bay doors open for ordnance.

This is an old airport hangar from LowryAFB, now fresh plots of housing, similar in kind to but older than the large community built over the runways of the old Stapleton airport. These two developments are massive urban redesign made possible by the amount of space required by yesterday’s planes for commercial and military use.

Hanging from the ceiling of the museum is a parachute with many open rectangles. B61 nuclear bombDangling from it is a steel cylinder with a tip and it looks sort of like a very large artillery shell. When underneath it, there is a small circle with an explanation: nuclear bomb. This was a test device for a nuclear weapon deployed with this drag parachute so it could be released at supersonic speeds, presumably from a B1A type plane. It felt Damoclean and standing under it gave me a shiver of cold war angst.

The museum encouraged a conversation between Ruth and me about her Uncle Joseph and my father, also an Air Force man, and his piloting planes in WWII. Talking to this child of the third millennium made WWII seem like ancient history. Seen from her perspective it will be. And my father and mother both served.

Tonight Kate and I are taking Jon and Jen out to Foga de Chao, a good choice for a low carb meal. Lots of veggies and meat. An adult night out, something Jon and Jen don’t get too often.


Beltane                                                                     Early Growth Moon

Out to Famous Dave’s at 11:20 this morning, just ahead of the Mother’s Day rush.  We had a nice meal, discussing family, as the restaurant slowly filled up, the number of very large patrons noticeable unfortunately.

I’ve been back at work on Missing, now writing new material, most focused on John’s origins, where he came from and what if any implications that might have for his time on Tailte.  This will lead into the work of experimenting with point of view, which I’ve given a lot of thought but have not made any decisions about as yet.

Greg, Latin tutor, began to push me a bit this last time, saying how many verses he wanted me to tackle before our next time.  Up til now I’ve been learning at a pace comfortable for me, maybe a bit slow for him, but ok since I was the student.  Now, I’m closer to a colleague and we need to have adequate material before us each time we meet.  We’ve met in person once in the last three and a half years, at Kate’s retirement party at the MIA two Januaries ago.  Odd.

I sat down and pounded out five verses in a little more than an hour.  This includes making commentary notes in Microsoft Notes, words to highlight, helps, ways in which Perseus confuses the matter, words Perseus doesn’t have.

Here’s a strange, and a bit disturbing, thing.  I turned in my resignation from the MIA last Tuesday.  I’ve heard nothing from them.  12 years.  Nothing.  Weird.  And confirming of my decision.


Jazz Noir

Spring                                                                        Planting Moon

“Creativity is the social act of the solitary person.”  William Butler Yeats

Reading the book about introverts, Quiet, will help you see why.  Even if you’re not an introvert, reading this book is a good introduction to the world of those of us who prefer alone time, find crowds and parties taxing, would like time to mull over decisions.

Part of what was so stressful for me with the Kona situation and the back pain was that I had to go to the vet with her three days in a row, meaning I increased my regular interaction with outsiders by multiples.  That tires me out.  Even on a good day.

Right now Kate’s upstairs doing the cross-word and watching the dogs, the back pain is much better this morning, probably the result of the prednisone and I’m down here in the study getting ready to get back to work.


We have a jazz weekend planned with Craig Taborn at the Walker tonight and Jazz Noir at the Artist’s Quarter on Sunday night.  Taborn is a Golden Valley kid who has made a big name for himself as a jazz pianist and an ensemble player flavored by Miles Davis in his Bitches Brew phase.   Jazz Noir is a radio play being broadcast live at the 8 pm hour over KBEM.

“For those who long for “the grand old days” of radio, Jazz88 has answered the call. Jazz Noir is a new original radio series complete with live radio actors and jazz ensemble in front of a studio audience, just like in the days of radio’s infancy.

(Avon–Latisha White)

Jazz88’s first episode is an original drama, Charles & Avon, that will be performed, recorded and broadcast in front of a live audience from the Artists’ Quarter in downtown Saint Paul on Sunday, April 28, with shows at 5 and 8 p.m. The 8 p.m. performance will be broadcast live on 88.5 FM.”


Spring                                                                       Planting Moon

Got onion sets in the mail yesterday.  Planting will be in order over the next few days, at least the cold weather crops.  Glad Kate will be here to help.  It will go faster.

On missing my partner.  I had one day of sudden in a funk blues shortly after Kate left and one conversation with her turned my spirits around.  Then, until my back began to assert its anger at my abusing it, I got into rhythms with the dogs, my work, some projects around the house.  Even then, I was ok, fine with handling matters as they came up.

After Kona started her downhill slide Sunday morning until yesterday afternoon when I got back from the eye doctor though, I was pressing on, coping.  I missed her then, a lot.  Of course, in general, I miss my life partner and soul mate when she’s gone.  I also enjoy the time alone, to a certain point, but when the pain increased and the amount of things going on also increased and the snow fell.  Well.  I would have been very happy to have her here.

These last matters were unexpected and somewhat over the top, increasing my desire for Kate’s valuable insight into medical phenomena, yes, but also into me.   Could I have handled them on my own?  Yes.  I did.  Did I handle them as well as I could?  Hell, I don’t know.

She chose a long time with the grandkids, whom she loves, which they need and which I totally support.  I’m glad she went, glad she went this time and glad she stayed as long as she did.  I’m also glad she got to see the International Quilters Museum.

I’m also glad she’s turned the corner to the left and got headed in my favorite direction:  north.


She’s Homeward Bound

Spring                                                                          Planting Moon

Kate’s in Lincoln, Nebraska.  She’ll see the international quilt museum tomorrow, then head east into Iowa. That’ll put her home on Thursday.  I’ll be really glad to have her back.

Our plan about vehicles works well.  We have one at home, the Rav4 and when we need a car for a long trip, we rent one.  Usually now from Enterprise.  That way we put the mileage on the rentals and the Rav4 stays home.

Feels like I’ve floated through the last three days, seeing the vet with Kona three different times, John Desteian, picking up and hiving the bees, taking meds that make me feel weird.  I’ve set aside my exercising–too much pain–and my writing and my Latin–too hard to concentrate.

That’s life at times, one foot in front of the other, getting through the day and on to the next one.  I don’t feel bad about it.  At all.  Just what’s required right now.

Tomorrow I see the eye doc.  Get my glaucoma surveilled and check those flashes of light I’ve begun to have in the upper left quadrant of my left eye.




She Went Over the Rivers and Through the Plains

Spring                                                                                       Planting Moon

We set our first new low temperature since 2004.  Probably another one today, too.

Kate’s been in Denver since a week ago Thursday.  Long enough time for Grandma to settle in and be part of the day-to-day.  Last week she went to Ruth’s school and ate lunch with her.  A big deal for Ruth, an even bigger deal for Grandma.

(one of the lamer attractions on the road to Denver)

She’s had 8 inches of snow.  Then quarter inch thick ice on her rental car.  Later, she picked up a bolt in the tire of her rental and had to rely on the kindness of strangers.  Has not dulled her enthusiasm although that flat tire coincided with some crankiness on the grandkids to make a not so very good, if not exactly horrible day.

For those of you who wonder, we travel independently largely because of the dogs.  It’s very expensive for both of us to travel and board the dogs.  We have a mutual travel fund, but it’s modest.

Though I would not describe us as living on a fixed income, we have much less flexibility than we did.  This is a reality for most retired folks.  (I can hear Kate.  Sell that book.)

(the trail to Denver crosses all of Nebraska)

Revision is the first order of business each day except Fridays, so I’m on it, sweetheart.  Fridays (or Thursdays) I retain for art related matters.  Ovid is in the afternoon.

Becoming a doctor instead of a professional sewer

Spring                                                                          Planting Moon

Granddaughter Ruth, turned 7 last week, asked Grandma, “Why did you become a doctor instead of a professional sewer?”  Grandma has been teaching Ruth to sew.  “Because I’m good at being a doctor, too.”  Lots of great information in that exchange.

Vega just came in from the outside carrying one of the green toy balls.  She brought it all the way inside, deposited it beside the water bucket and continued onto the living room to lie down on the rug.  It’s a dog’s life.

We’ve been talking, here and there, about the third phase at our Woolly meetings.  Maximize life now.  While we have it.  Say yes to life.  Do what only I can do.  A few approaches, still being tried out.  We had two new third phasers join the group in the last couple of months.  There’s one outlier at 64 and another at 60.



Rainy, Gray, Blah

Spring                                                                      Planting Moon

Moved books and sorted files.  Finishing up that long study and file reorganization, clean out begun some weeks ago.  Went out for dog food and got a hamburger at Culver’s.  They make a good burger.

Read some more Robert Jordan, now in the second volume of the Wheel of Time.  Watched three Supernaturals and one Danish show, The Eagle.  A lazy Sunday.

Did get started on Book I of Metamorphoses.  Not far.  Verbs pulled out and conjugated.  I checked the Perseus (classics website) text with the most scholarly text available right now and there was one small difference in the first four verses.  Started a word list which will feed into the commentary.

Needed a psychic bump today and Kate provided it.  What would I do without her?  I know it’s a canard; but, with buddy William Schmidt losing his wife Regina last year, it’s no longer something that has happened to others.

This gray, cold weather has many Minnesotans in a bit of a grumpy place, all of us waiting for daffodils and sun.  As Garrison Keillor said today, “The snow will melt.”  You betcha.

June 2017
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