Change You Can Believe In

Shortly after my Aunt Mary moved out of her house I got this glass bowl from her collection and started using it as a change dish about the time Barack Obama became president.  Given his slogan, I figured I'd see if I could make it to 2012 and assess whether we saw real change or were hoping for some change to get food.  Fortunately for most of us it hasn't gotten that far yet.  But as you can see, with the exception of getting a few too many pennies it was almost a perfect fit for four years of change.  Aunt Mary died in 2011.  She wasn't a big Obama supporter.
And President Obama, since a day like today back in 2009 (scroll down to Inauguration Day at IHS) how did he do with that hopey, changey thingy?
In some ways we've certainly moved in the right direction, but there's a long way to go.
First he announced Tim Geithner as Treasury Secretary, he came to the administration from Clinton's via a stint of the Federal Reserve Chairman while the banks were collapsing.  Maybe his successor, Jack Lew, who came from the administration via a similar route, will change things.
Then there was the statement he made about stopping the seas from rising that got Romney his one highlight of his unsuccessful campaign.  I don't think this is what Obama was talking about.
He wanted us to think he could close Guantanamo (where we hold dozens of people without charges much less prosecuting them), stop torture, end two wars and the use of unconstitutional wiretapping.  Don't know if he really thought he could or would, but some people thought he was so sincere they gave him an Nobel Peace Prize.

Change You Can Believe In

I believe I'll give $124.05 to the Bradley Manning defense fund, or maybe split it with people being arrested for attempting to block the Keystone Pipeline.
I sure think it's going to be necessary to work for change more than hope for it during the next four years.

Not So Little Shit

Yesterday the container with Bean's food was almost empty.  There wasn't enough in it for his dinner so before going to work I went to the freezer and refilled it.  I hate for the little fella to have to eat frozen dinners, this way it would have time to thaw out.  This is about how full it was, give or take an inch.
Then at school a couple students were pestering me with those questions they think up so they won't have to learn anything they might be tested on someday.  Such as, "Mr. McMahon, do you ever swear?"
Another one said, "I bet he swears at his dog sometimes."  Really, I'm not making that up.
When I got home from work, I barely walked into the house, grabbed him quick so I could walk him and get to a 5:00 meeting.
Gail's been away so Bean thinks he's neglected and he certainly isn't getting as many treats as he's used to.  On the walk he shit three times.  Not so little shits like he usually does, more like a German Sheppard.  When we got back to the house the first thing I noticed was the cupboard door open, one that doesn't have a latch (to keep him out of the garbage) but where the food container is stored at his eye level.  Then I noticed the container of food wasn't in the cupboard.  Then I noticed the container was across the room on the floor with the lid off.  Then I noticed he wouldn't come out from under the table.  Then I noticed the two pools of piss on the floor.  Sorry about the crude language, I don't usually swear in these posts, especially now that a teacher has used this blog in classroom instruction, but he shit again before going to bed (unheard of), five times this morning and plenty more this afternoon.

Not So Little Shit

Here's how much was left after he stopped; or couldn't get his head inside the container to reach any more.  I don't know if that qualifies for having stopped.  That little white scoop is how much he normally gets for a meal.  If you want to see what he used to look like scroll down to "Whole Bunch of Pictures" or click on October 2012 on the right.

You Decorate a Tree, You Throw it in the Yard

Over the years I've gotten into the habit of grabbing a couple of the neighbors' discarded Christmas trees and setting them up in our yard.  The needles stay on until spring so they look nice, I place one in front of a window people can look through from the sidewalk to block the view because I like to leave the curtains open so we (including Bean) can see out, and the birds like perching in them when they visit the feeder.  In the early spring I cut off the branches and add them to the compost when fresh, green material is hard to come by.  The downside is I end up with this collection of trunks that accumulate and are just kind of a pain.  So I chuckled to myself the other day when it occurred to me to put the trunks out for the city crew to pick up when they do their collection of this year's trees.  Well, the chuckling turned to tears today, and I felt like I'm living in another John Prine song (I always feel like I'm living in John Prine songs) and I came home to find the old trunks still at the curb.  Perhaps they have a minimal needle (or branch) limit?  The real insult came when I noticed the tree staked up with two posts halfway down the driveway in front of the window was gone. 

You Decorate a Tree, You Throw it in the Yard

The view in the window from the sidewalk and of the crime scene.  Note the posts left in the snow that they had to pull up to get the tree.  On a positive note, a decoration had been left on by the neighbors and when the tree was taken from our yard it fell off and I found it in the snow.  Now, which neighbor did I get that tree from?

You Decorate a Tree, You Throw it in the Yard

 All I can do is wish the neighbors all the best, they had their tree left by the crew just because they hadn't watered it and it didn't meet the minimal needle requirement.

Bonus Third Trip

Seems like I keep ending up in the Adirondacks these days.  There had been a trip in the works to Glenn and Maryanne's house for "the boys" since early December but I never considered going due to the recent two trips (see below), but then Jim called and suggested going for a quick trip and there we were.  I didn't have the camera out while hanging around the house, we ate, played music, darts, tended the fires and watched tv, you all know what that looks like.  But I did get the camera out when Jim and I skied up to Pharaoh Lake.  Nice skiing conditions, tough photo conditions.

Two Trips to the Mountains

For Christmas Gail and I were fortunate to get to the Adirondacks again and visit with the Arends at Piseco Lake.  As usual, Geoff, Kristi and Harper were there.  Kristi's brother, David, and his wife Vivian came from California too.  There was just enough snow to ski so I got out a couple times, but not so much that we couldn't walk in it easily as well which is how Gail and I got to this nice spot on Fall Stream, the main inlet for Piseco Lake.  I'd paddled up it last summer but didn't quite make it to Fall Lake, I got there on skis with no problem.  Next summer I'll have to paddle to Oxbow Lake if we go up since the trail I was skiing on had been ruined just before I got to the lake by a snowmobile.

Two Trips to the Mountains

We spent a fair amount of time putting a really cool puzzle together, check out the shapes of some of those pieces, they were cut out of real wood.  Harper got outside for some sledding and snow-angel action and piano lessons from Uncle David.                                                                                  

Two Trips to the Mountains

While I might have been away from my family for the holidays, I certainly feel a part of two more since embarking on life together with Gail.  Her family is somewhat virtual, scype is frequently employed.  Here we're visiting with Martha and Marianna in St. Paul, MN.  And that's the whole Arend clan (with in laws Geoff and Vivian) posing for the Christmas picture.  There was NO WAY GAIL AND JOE WERE GOING TO BE IN THAT.

Two Trips to the Mountains

Harper knows how to fill in the last word on every page of each of his books, until he got new ones for Christmas.  But before thinking he's a mensa baby or anything, he wanted to escape the melodic sounds of the banjo by getting into the case and closing it on himself.