Expotitions at Cobbs Hill Park (with Evan and Adam)

A few years pre-expotitions

First a note about the use of the word "expotition". Back in the mid to late 70's, when I was a young elementary school teacher, proud father (still am) and personal identity seeking person (still am), one memory I carry that always brings a smile to my face is the hikes "we" would take at Cobbs Hill Park in Rochester New York.

The "we" is my son Evan, his best neighborhood buddy at the time Adam and, of course, me. "Expotition" is a mis-speak/understanding by Pooh in the Chapter, "Christopher Robin Leads an Expedition to the North Pole", by A.A. Milne. No matter. It is what we called to mind in our travels on the hills and trails of Cobbs Hill Park (our own version of the 100 acre woods).

Evan and Adam were about five or six years old at the time. Prime age for finding delight in the fanciful adventures of Christopher Robin, Pooh and his many friends. So we became part of that troop in our own way as we challenged ourselves on the steep hills and rolling trails of the park.

Packing P,B & J sandwiches and a canteen of water we would walk up Culver Road, across the bridge over highway I-490, around Lake Riley and then attack the steep west side hill. Because of the angle on the hill there were not really any trails to follow just slippery steps as we moved through the loose soil and piles of decaying leaves from one tree sapling to the next bracing ourselves against the angle of the slope. It was the most challenging and probably most scary part of the walk.

As we helped push and pull each other up the hill and finally reach the sunlight and level footing of the top there was a feeling of empowerment and victory over the elements (at least that's what I hoped the boys felt). It was always a good time to break for water catch our breath, look out over the city and our neighborhood, eat some lunch and talk about "where to go from there".

The "where to go..." part most often led us past the reservoir down through the more gently graded north woods. The trails were clear, the trees were much bigger and mature and provided a shady canopy for all manner of fungus, flora and fauna covering the sides of the beaten and well traveled paths. Sometimes, when we were particularly quiet, we would see birds, chipmunks and squirrels. That didn't happen very often because the boys were typically on the move and not particularly quiet, but no matter.

This time as we emerged from the woods to the flat open fields of the park we were not so stressed from the trails but definitely getting tired of walking in general and we still had a good distance to go before reaching home.

Now with so many years past, so much distance from home and distance from our lives back in that day, I cannot be clear in my mind if those walks happened very often, only once, or if they ever happened at all. But it is a "memory" I carry of a time of youth, simplicity, wonder and innocent enjoyment of life. I can only hope it was real and brings to your mind a glimmer of truth and to your face a gentle knowing smile. Evan will always be my Christopher Robin.

Evan and Tash have two wonderful adventurous boys of their own now. Their own Christopher and Pooh to wander and wonder with through a new and magical 100 Acre Woods.

I know they have wonderful expotitions.

My Little Moon Shots

So this is the moon everyone's been talking about. The perigee full moon in technical speak or the supermoon in armchair speak.

These were taken the night of May 5, 2012. The closest to earth full moon for 2012. Not complicated or sophisticated photo-work, but fun to record it.

I used my itty-bitty, no bigger than a pack of cigarettes, Nikon Coolpix digital camera that my daughter wasn't using any more. I pretty much take the camera wherever I go. Re-usable memory card and re-chargeable battery make me feel a little more eco-friendly.

Sorry to disappoint any one who read the title of this blog and had different expectations. I'm not that kind of blog meister.

I like this shot with the street lamp and flash action on the trees

Cool hazzy halo on this one.

A Day At The Ball Park

It's was an adventure not just a game. We started out at about 11:30am for a 1:10pm start time. Depending on traffic, the stadium is 45 minutes from our house, give or take. The trip takes us through downtown Tampa, past the airport, across Tampa Bay and into downtown St. Petersburg. It is a teaser of a trip because you can see the stadium across the bay but there is still another 30 minutes of driving to get there.

My original thought was to get in early, watch some of batting practice and maybe get a good parking space. Well at least we did get a good parking space. Traffic through Tampa was very slow due to a stalled car. It was an extra 15-20 minutes but it seemed much longer.

When we arrived at the ticket booth we learned it was a "Silver" game. The games are graded and ticket prices adjusted based on a number of factors (day of the week, time of day, opponent, expected turnout etc.) and Silver is the cheapest pricing tier, Yeah!!

Got'em. $19 each and it seems cheap.

I think I have a bit of an attitude about ticket prices from growing up in a town with only a Minor League team and honestly not going to many games since I was a kid and after the players went on strike. It's still hard to fathom the amount of money in the game and I know we are a very cheap market. Maybe the cheapest.

Time for pre-game lunch at Brewhouse.

Again I will reflect back to my youth when, at Red Wing Stadium, when you could afford it, you were lucky to wait in line to get a red hot and a coke for fifty cents. I usually opted for a ten cent box of CrackerJack with the prize inside. Wish I had some of those old collectable prizes. Ah, me.

Full uniform and hungry.

 Now we are sitting in a full service restaurant at the stadium and there are probably 4 or 5 of them plus the take-away service counters, hallway kiosks and walk-around shouting vendors. We've come a long way baby.

She didn't want to wear my Rays cap or anything Rays for that matter.

We raised our girl to be a Yankee fan and she remains true to her team. She does put up with us when we get excited about any given game though. That is unless it is against the Yankees. I should back up for a second and say I am a Yankee fan as well, unless they are playing the Rays (life is complicated like that sometimes).

Splitting lunch was a capital idea, Wow!

Back to lunch, it has arrived and plenty enough for two. A nice pressed Cuban Sandwich and fries that were hot and fresh., Yumm.

Here is where we parked at the park. Pre-game warm ups going on.

All rise for the playing of our national anthem. No singer ~ an off day?

Ready for some baseball!

The Tropicana Field "rings". Unique to all baseball.

In other climates I am all for a traditional outside field, but down here in Florida, a weather protected dome seems just so smart. I could go for a retractable roof to have the best of both worlds but we are not there yet.

"Raymond" Working the crowd, such as it was.

Starting lineups. No B.J. Upton, Zobrist, or Longoria to start, what?

Matt Joyce, local guy made good. Nice to see.

Brandon Allen, recent acquisition, but will he pay off?

Desmond Jennings in center.

"The Shift" is on. That's the third baseman in the Short stop spot 

Sean Rodriguez at short stop

Jeff Niemann's delivery. Can you find the ball?

Every third inning a sweep. How pampered are we?

Joyce moved to left. Directly in front of us.

Zorilla subs in to right field.

Raymond gets to do his winner's dance and romp.

 As usual it was a close game and luckily the Rays were able to hold on to a one run lead. Most unusual was that it was not decided by a come-from-behind walk-off hit in the bottom of the ninth inning with two outs and two strikes on the batter.

We waited for the bulk of the crowd to leave and browsed through the memorabilia shop just for grins. My gosh, nice stuff, but priced just right out of this world. One thing it did do was make the price of admission seem like an even better bargain.

All in all a nice day of memories for Erin and I though. I'm thankful and happy for that.

under the moon

under the moon

under the moon

the dew on a spider’s web

taps an arachnid morse code message

here I am

under the moon

the voices of the trees

cry in the night wind

come see me

under the moon

the love in your eyes

broad as the moon is far

I need you

under the moon

we lay in dark shadows

sharing one breath

under the moon

On Mom at Eighty-Four

On Mom at Eighty-Four

Her Birthday now passed.

A day, in a litany of days

that have easily amassed.

Tumbling like dominos stacked on end,

then unceremoniously set a-tilt by the wind.

It all begins in black and white.

A Brownie Box Camera image

freezing beauty and innocence like day and night.

Yet time is not an idle guard

even gentle exposure makes one hard.

Changed by relentless passing seasons,

flipping photo album pages,
the touches and needs of loving legions.

Stored in a dusty shoe box case,

still she moves through time with grace.

Aging is an inevitable duty.

A process working harsh on the flesh

giving texture to her beauty

and color to her innocence.

A labor welcome as the dawn's intent.

A new day comes,

with it's own personality and quirk.

and falling sun on sun
topples into another day

and another year, I hope to say.

We are blessed once again because of this,

with the warmth of her smile

and her tender kiss.
If we have just one wish to go,

it would be for more dominos.

Stop It, Just Stop It!

In the words of our all-time favorite pro tennis player, John McEnroe, "You can't be serious!" I think it is time to put an end to what appears to be one of the most frequently blogged topics or sub-topics of the day. That is the ever present apology in one form or another for not having blogged in some time or the need to stop for a bit and the accompanying explanation for your perceived low productivity.

You can't be serious! 

Just stop it right now!

Who cares why? Two minutes, two days, two years, who gives a hoot?
If you've got a something to say say it.
If it works on a blog, blog it.
If it is tweet-worthy, then tweet away.
If it is face-bookable, then face it.
Just get it out there with all the rhythm and glory you can muster. Say no to apologies.

By the way, I like to read random blogs by clicking on the "Next Blog" icon. If you have constructed a blog or web page that appears and then interrupts the flow of blogs so I cannot move past your precious page, then
Stop it, Stop it please!

I'll look if I'm interested, so why take a good chance that you'll hack me off by monopolizing my silly web roaming time?
Just stop it you bloggus-interruptus so-and-so. It's quite enough from you.

There, I feel so much better now.

Have a nice day! :-)

Pause Your Life For A Year

How long can you hold your breath; forty seconds or maybe a minute? How long can you put your life on hold and do shallow breathing while you wait for the right time to restart EVERYTHING, then give it a try only to fall back two steps?

It's really not my story to tell, but it is a story we have been witness to for the last three hundred and sixty five days. We have watched our "baby girl" (that title will never change no matter what the age) go through some unfathomable life events. The kinds of things that are not supposed to happen to vibrant young people. Surviving a long history of broken or sprained ankles, broken fingers, bouts of flu or even herniated discs is not preparation enough.

The life changing kinds of things that make us rehash every day of our lives as parents to find answers to How, Why and What did we do wrong type of questions. Only to discover that there is no comfort in any of the possibilities. What you are left with is "This is where we are, we are fortunate it was discovered now and this is where we go."

"The Sanctuary" contemplation pool at H. Lee Moffitt Cancer Center, Tampa, Florida.

As much as a father or mother may wish to bear the burden or be able to make it go away with a kiss and soothing words, it is not possible. So we place our trust and faith in new people we meet, hoping they have all the necessary tools, skills and interest to guide us through. We hope and we pray.

Learning new medical terminology, trying to ask the right questions, providing moral support and being vigilant guardians is all that remains for us to feel like we can make a difference as parents. Yet there is still a constant wave of reality that flows all around. Reminding us of our limitations and human frailties. And we watch.

We often watch with awe and amazement as our girl winds her way through what has become a web of challenges, with a sense of calm and purpose. She has not allowed room for dispair or self-pity to take charge of her life. She has been absolutely solid in her belief that this is all part of God's plan for her. The strength of her faith has been unyielding and provided her with a sense of direction to persevere.

We have always been extremely proud of her as a person and of her accomplishments. She has always stood out as a young person with an "old soul", with wisdom and understanding beyond her years. Until now the challenges were social or physical. Familiar things intended to build and shape character like playing on sports teams or going off to college. In every way she has survived and thrived.

The events of this last year have taken "challenge" to an unfamiliar level and yet in the midst of it all her sense of self and faith in God have continued to carry her through and become stronger. There is no quit in this kid.

She is our hero.

Why Am I In This Hangar?

Sometimes I feel like a giant with legs that go all the way up and a head too big for my neck.

I try to sit comfortably on an old tiny wooden kindergarten chair,

at an old tiny wooden kindergarten table in the middle of a giant empty metal airplane hangar.

It is dead quiet and poorly lit, but for an apparent spot light covering my work space.

Something, a compelling thought, I just need to write.

I can really feel it make my hands quiver electric.

An all-over itch with no particular spot to scratch the all-over-ness away.

There is lined paper with a large space between the solid lines and an extra dotted line

zipping across the middle to help with breaking capital letters like P's, R's and especially K's

and limit the minor characters.

Oh, and a giant unwieldy black lacquered pencil that seems to never need sharpening.

I can't quite get seated comfortably and as I adjust, the chair drags on the bare concrete floor

causing that wooden screechy ear piercing moan to echo over the space of the hundred yard hangar

and bounce back and forth on the ting-tang metal walls.

I can feel my heart beating in my ears, behind my eyes and maybe resonating off

those ching-chang tin hangar walls.

I am sure the sound of each breath I take

is rolling into the sound of a prior breath

as it coils back to me off those same walls.

A rolling sea of breaths,

now flow and ebb, ebb and flow.

On The Cutting Edge

No, not the cutting edge of technology or any major level of sophisticated anything. Rather the cutting edge of the lawn mower carving a path through what once was a fairly solid yard of grass but has become a greenish blend of all plant things available under the sun.

Why write about mowing the lawn? That is a good question with many answers that depend on how I feel at the moment you choose to ask.

The responses could fall in a range somewhere between:
"It's what I did yesterday.." to "insights from the deepest reaches of my mind.." and other lofty, philosophically convoluted and heady introspective thoughts. (OK, that was too many big ideas in a row for me. Just keep it simple Jim!)

As I worked through the task I could tell the oxygen was flowing freely to my brain because:

1. I was not getting dizzy as I sucked in air through the surgical mask I need to wear to avoid allergic reactions.
and
2. My mind was running away with itself, thinking about the line in the yard I was trying to keep straight, the pretty Azaleas that are blooming despite lack of support and nourishment, to the birds out by the pond and trying to remember where in the bible Jesus questions his purpose in life.
and
3. A poem popped out at me.

Maybe I was getting delirious from lack of oxygen after all.

The prettiest blossom

The one surviving bush

A Lawn Well Mowed

Why is it when I mow away from the house my line looks fair

but when I turn around I see no control there?

Is it only an illusion that my mind’s eye plays?

Can the earth contort in so short a space?

Does the mower drift from left to right

or my brain lose charge and trick my sight?

Maybe an omen, as the Ides of March come soon

and mark the the approach Lent’s full moon.

Whatever the cause I interject,

I’ll set my wheels and self-correct.

Mallard couple and Cormorant sharing some space

Stopping For Gas

I'm posting this note today because I want a permanent record of my feeling good about finding gas at Costco for $3.569/gal. I believe it will be a memory I will call "the good old days" in a few months and maybe for a few years.

I hope Iran learns a lesson from this because I sure have.

Another political lesson we are all paying the price for.

Lunch at Della's Delectables (Della's After Dark is dark)

On our way to a follow-up appointment we decided to have lunch at a local bistro called Della's Delectables, http://www.dellastogo.com/. I don't know that Brandon Florida is touted as a mecca for bistro hounds, but the area around Brandon Regional Hospital seems to have become a hotbed for
chef's expressions.

The folks at Della's are very friendly and, with 23 years in the food service industry, they know how to put their best food forward. Follow the link above to view their offerings. We just had a couple of sandwiches, Muffuletta on Ciabatta Roll and Honey Club on Cuban Bread (pressed). They were both very good with a home made, at your kitchen table kind of touch to them.

They have a twist too. On Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights, from 5:00PM - 10:00PM, they serve up dinner with some Jazz (music 7 to 10). It is called Della's After Dark. We haven't taken advantage of this yet, but since the sign reads "reservations recommended", I am guessing they are busy. *( Unfortunately Della's After Dark is no more.) The Breakfast/Lunch is certainly still one of the best around, but the dinner and jazz is gone. 


After lunch, if you have time and the interest, you can browse through The Book Stall next door. Self-characterized as a book exchange, they had a couple of teaser tables with yellowing paperbacks in various titles jammed in boxes as "special sale pricing" items. I didn't go inside but maybe next time I am in the area I will. I just wasn't ready to inhale the musty smell of old books and exhale the strong smell of the red onion from the bite of Erin's sandwich I took. I didn't want to offend.

Nice seating inside as well

She doesn't want to miss anything

Frog Sconce on the wall

Piling On

These are not the kind of messages you expect to hear from doctors to your child. It's not the time in her life for curve balls. She is too young, fresh, full of life and dreams. So very young, she cannot be ready for this kind of twisting and stress. You just want her to throw fast balls and hit her spots. Yes, it is a sports analogy and yet here it is.

Without getting into detail let's just say lately we have become all too accustomed to hearing from medical professionals, "She is one of the youngest patients we have seen with ... or ...".

A major, life-saving surgery at 23 years old and then at again just this week at 24, for a completely different condition. We are quite ready for a break from this particular kind of excitement, thank you very much!

All through this our girl has proven to be strong physically, mentally and emotionally. That does not mean that she is unaffected by these challenges and fearless in the face of the unknown. She has simply been able to call on her faith and whatever other resources she needs to survive and in many ways thrive. So many friends and family pouring their prayers and best wishes in to us, it has been an overwhelming source of comfort and support.

Pre-op

Recovery with pals to lighten the load

Still so fresh, there is certainly some lingering pain and unanswered questions about what tomorrow may bring, but she is a source of pride and inspiration for us every day. Soon she will be at full strength and this will all be behind us.

Piling On

Each day and moment we have together

is the brighter future of our hopes and dreams,

so let's keep piling them up

one upon another

and another...

We are always on the path

regardless if it is familiar and desired or not.

The path is what it is.

We have to provide our own light and keep moving forward,

one step at a time,

but its nice to hold hands along the way.

Sloppy Joe's for Dinner

Not really down the road toward arterial cleanliness or a spit shined colon, but it sure is a good old reliable comfort meal. One of the great "cold night dinner" memories I had growing up in Rochester, New York. Hard to believe they were supposedly "created" in Key West Florida at Sloppy Joe's Bar. Although it might be a quick easy grub concoction for a crew of hungry pirates, Ahhrr maties!

An alternative tale of the sandwich origin is a cook named Joe at a cafe in Sioux City, Iowa. Now it does get cold enough there to warrant such a creation me thinks, but alas no pirates out there.

The Kaiser rolls in the pic are a little sexier and more substantial than the thin Wonder Bread Hamburger Buns we used to have as kids but they'll do just fine. This is not a special recipe dish although they were so good I might just work on doctoring them up a bit to make it my own. Then again why mess with something that tastes so good and you only have a couple of times a year at most!

Sweet pickle slices and steamed corn to boot. Now isn't this special?

The 65th Anniversary

Mom said it out loud. I had been thinking of it for days ahead. As the date approached, I wondered how to start the first conversation with her when I got to the house. I definitely wanted to acknowledge to her that it was important and not forgotten, never lost.

Then when I got there it was totally not on my mind at all. We chatted for a few minutes and as I asked about her breakfast, pills and bills while settling into his chair, there it was...

"Today's my 65th wedding anniversary you know."

Damn!

Heavy Lifting

01/28/12 

We all gathered at the house as our lives allowed

spouse, children, grandchildren, relatives and friends.

Bringing hot meals, buzzing with chores, sharing memories

to brighten a light that is, by design, growing dim.

All efforts made in silent coordination with reverent steps.

Look how well we move as one like army ants on the march

as if to say, “Don’t worry we’ve got it.”

Without really forcing the sounds from our lips

thinking the mention of the words will hasten some finality.

Yet knowing that darkness is near, we catch shallow breaths.

It is for him, it is for ourselves and it is for each other.

To make the effort and feel like we’ve made the effort

but realizing in our hearts it is the work of departure.

I remember what he used to say about the unattainable 

Christmas gift. “It’s on a slow boat from China.”

It was a thought full of hope and unintelligible voices

on a boat we would never see.

Yet, I like to think he is under sail on that ship of dreams

enjoying all the promise that will ever be.

What's The Dish On The Dog

Since it was Mr. Frisky's idea for me to start this blog and he was the subject matter of the first one, I thought it was time for a doggy update. Today we had to go to the veterinarian's office for a follow-up to learn how to give our boy insulin shots.

He's really happy to be at the vet's office, right?

Yes, he is a diabetic little guy. Almost 13 years old in people time which definitely puts him on the senior side of life as canines go. He is a bit overweight and has been for a long time. Hind hips are weakening (there's a medication for that), he has a thyroid condition (ditto on the meds) and now his diabetes will require shots twice a day. Animals do not respond to the oral meds, oh bother!

Turns out it is quite a common ailment in pets. More common in cats than dogs but, no matter, our boy has it and we'll have to deal with it. Doc says shop around it should run you about $30 or so for the insulin and the syringes are cheap.

He showed me how to grab the scruff of his neck in my hand and take aim about half an inch below my thumb, let 'er rip and push the plunger. He even loaded four syringes to "get us through the weekend." Then I suppose we are on our own for sourcing his doggy works.

Our first price check was a local grocery/pharmacy, syringes $17 for 100#, insulin $82 for a vial, sheesh! We love Frisky but there has to be a more reasonable (cheaper) way to do this!

First solo shot at home I wanted to make sure there were no air bubbles in the syringe doc fixed for me. I put a little pressure on the plunger  and discovered it doesn't take a lot...lost a little medicine oops! Trust the doc he's done it a million times.

At The Window - Mid-Morning Vertical Thoughts

This is the view from my seat at the computer mid-morning. I think that "blinds" are aptly named tools for protecting us inside and out. They help me have a sense of control over my surroundings. Pull the string to let the world in or shut it out in one simple motion.

The world being controlled is the sunlight and the general public. The decision is mine. The mechanism is simple. No electric motors. Just slats, some gears and a string at the ready for whatever amount of privacy or exposure my mood dictates. I love the easy physics of it all.

They are vertical not horizontal. I think verticals give me a sense of a cleaner look because the dust can't settle on them as easily. That may not be true but it is what I am thinking and do not have enough interest to Google and find out the "actual" truth about verticals.

I think the blinds are a metaphor for a deeper truth of the mind, perspective. After all, life or one's mental wellbeing is all about how you look at things, the perspective you choose to have. I think the cognitive workings of the mind are very much like the working parts of the blinds.

With "simple" adjustments we can change our view to reach a comfort level to get ourselves through the day. Some days more light gets in and other days, well ... not so much.

Think vertical and don't allow the dust of life to settle on your mind!

Backyard Musing

My lawn out back is nothing like it was when we moved into the house close to 20 years ago. What once was a relatively consistant form of grass has been replaced by a mixture of grasses and weeds that have different growth cycles and tendencies to overtake space whenever they are flourishing.

Our neighbor family on the north side remain the same but their children have grown and moved away. Now the boys are occasional visitors and there is a grandchild who looks so much like his dad. On the south side we have had many changes since the house became a rental property. Not necessarily a good thing.

One thing hasn't changed out back. That is the wonderful opportunity to share space with some interesting "wildlife" visitor/residents. Big and small alike, they are all interesting in their own way and help to remind me that we do not really own this space on the planet, but just share it for a time.

Some fall friends.
PS. If you click on the pic you can get a better look.

The front "garden"?

A Pileated Woodpecker ~ he only visited Thanksgiving Day

They can get up to 18 inches and this one was all of that

A young Hawk out by the lake

Wish I had a better camera I couldn't get too close

I think he's looking at me here.

This guy was enjoying the sun and was proud of his tail