Cardboard and Dogs

Winter                                                                                        Settling Moon

One real marker of being here: driver’s license, my Colorado driver’s license, came today. A new state identifier. The license plates will follow. Then, we’ll be indistinguishable, at least at first glance, from other folks who live here.

More: boxes, opened. The ledge over the fireplace, a long one, is clear now. The small oriental is down in the living room with the coffee table on it for the first time in years. The coffee table was our television stand for the last 6 or 7. Found the amplifier and the dvd player, though playing dvds seems anachronistic. The little Roku hockey puck has replaced coaxial cable, receiving our television over a wireless connection to the internet.

Closing in, today, on freeing up space in the loft, especially around the window that overlooks Black Mountain. Working first to podcasts, then to youtube videos of the Band.

Kate takes Gertie in to the vet tomorrow. Gertie has an arthritic knee and needs pain pills to be her usual happy self. On the human medicine front we’ve located a Medicare specialist here to discuss our options. We have until February 20th to shift plans, but this is something I don’t want to do too near the deadline.

Still working on energy cranked up last month. Pack. Load. Unload. Unpack. Get this done. Get that done. As more and more gets done, I can feel relief waiting to break free. But, too, I can feel a sag, a slump coming after so much push. Time to collect myself, be non-productive, non-task focused. Not yet though. Not yet.

Regional ldentity

Winter                                               Settling Moon

There is no joy in Broncoville this morning for the mighty Manning has struck out. Seems familiar to me. Aging quarterback, once a legitimate star, leads team to playoffs, then has a less than starring role in a frustrating defeat. Can anyone say Favre? Or, Randall Cunningham? Or any of the other used-to-be’s who have been behind the center for the Vikings?

This, too, is a settling in issue. Local sports teams have a distinctive regional role, unifying disparate groups like stepson Jon, the Apache/Comanche/Spanish guy who helped unload our stuff and the customers at the Brook Forest Inn pub. When in a new region then, the newspaper, the jerseys worn, the conversations about sports, all reinforce outsider status. I’m not a Bronco fan, nor a Nuggets fan, or a Rockies fan.

My point here is not so much about sports because I am not much of a sports fan, though I’ve had my fling with the Vikings; rather, it’s about the nature of regional identity and its markers. I find the Western ethos of the Stock Show easier to assimilate, but that might be due to my Midwestern rural roots.