grownups

since my annoyance with little miss thing of last week seems to resonate with some of you other old folk, here's a little tune you can hum to yourself while you sit in your rocking chair balancing your checkbook:

fun in the ER

ok, so last week i made an unexpected trip to the ER.

i've been having a good deal of abdominal pain, lower right quadrant. at some point i thought to ask the internet: where exactly is my appendix? should i call my doctor?

you know, because after four nights awake with it, i thought maybe it's irresponsible not to mention it to a medical professional.

at my doctor's office they said come in tomorrow.

and the nice doctor lady said she thought i had a hot appendix, so she sent me right up to the ER.

at the ER they thought maybe not appendix, maybe kidney.

either way they do a buncha tests, including a CT scan, because that will give a lot of information about a lot of things in a big fat hurry.

and they get me in the room with the machine and THAT'S when they tell me there's going to be an enema contrast.

surprise!

who doesn't love a surprise enema?

and i'm already in pain and there's all that stuff about breathe now. hold your breath. breathe out.

and on top of all that i have to concentrate on not leaking the contrast fluid all over plus the minute they mention the enema portion of the evening, i suddenly feel like i'm going to be able to give that urine sample they'd asked for.

we have a short discussion about how it's pretty much standard not to mention enema contrast to patients until they get to radiology, except in the case of young men because the effect they're going for - one in which the patient is less worried and tense, and apparently in everyone except young men SURPRISE enemas accomplish this-

apparently in young men the technicians insist that male doctors do the informing about this next part of the program because there's a cultural thing about young men and things being inserted rectally.

my discomfort is offset somewhat by the amusing prospect of being able to say the words "surprise enema".

short version of the story: i have nothing 'splodey. no hot appendix, no giant tumor, no twisted ovary, a whole list of things it isn't.

i still have pain, though. i have to be careful if i sneeze.

the nice doctor ventures a theory that while i was out playing in the woods or something i probably pulled or stretched something and it got all inflamed and angry and it's not stopping its little tantrum. he suggests i take ibuprofen three times a day for two weeks, even if i don't feel i need it. his theory is that eventually the inflamed thingie (whatever it is) will disengage and i'll be back to normal.

in the meantime, i'm ok with discomfort. as my mother explained in the ER, a thing has to hurt pretty much bad for me to even notice. it would just, like, really SUCK to have a 'splodey appendix or a huge tumor or something that was maybe gonna kill me soon and with that off the table i can just get back to the normal stuff.

yeah, normal.

or reasonable facsimile thereof.

one day's difference

i saw this out on the westford road, and then passing it the next day took a picture of it again.

days go on, seasons change, the idea remains.

where i stopped reading

i subscribe to the listserve. if getting an email every day from a total stranger is interesting to you, you should also subscribe.

a few days ago we got a message that contained these lines:

I am an 18 year old NYC college student so perhaps I’m too young to be annoyed with society or maybe I’m the quintessential cynical age. For those of you reading who feel a young adult’s opinions are invalid (you’re an age-ist basically) feel free to stop reading and go deal with your more pressing adult matters (go balance your check book or something!). 

that's where i stopped reading.

it's the first listserve message i haven't bothered to read.

it's not because i think young people (and i do not draw the line at young adults) have nothing to say. children can have perfectly valid concerns and observations about the world we share.

but do you see what she did there? 

she gets two sentences in and already it's about who has valid voice and all us old people should go balance our checkbooks or something.

as if i ever balance my checkbook.

but she's made all us old people boring people who are automatically ageist unless we want to listen to her from her cranky little opening.

so i stopped reading.

she doesn't care, anyway.

but i can legally buy beer.

nyah, nyah.

i think i'll go rent a car and buy some craft beers or ask to see the wine list in a nice restaurant.

you know, because i CAN.

hot stuff

so i was coming along notch road and i saw a big pile of trash or sumthin' and i stopped to have a look.

it was a lot of lab glass.

a LOT.

flasks florence, erlenmeyer, and buechner. retorts, funnels, and all manner of things pyrex that i couldn't begin to identify.

and it's clearly either a dump of stolen property OR it's a dump of stuff somebody was going to use for their drug lab.

maybe both.

because nobody loses a huge shipment of wrapped new-and-used lab glass offrum some rural road.

so i called the police. i figure that stuff is expensive and there's probably a high school chem lab or some other test facility that had to report a mess o' this stuff missing, else some enterprising young people thought the old sand pit would be an excellent location for their new drug lab.

the police did come out to look at it, and very nicely put up some caution tape, i guess on account of the broken glass hazard, but after a few weeks the stuff was still there.

i helped myself to some things. you know, because flasks.

at this point it's just so much abandoned litter and you might as well pick it up while it's still unbroken.

i gave a couple of flasks to my sister (who likes round glass things) for her birthday, but i was very disappointed nobody asked me where i had gotten them.

it would have been fun to say "i stole them from a crime scene!"

you know, optimal sourcing of birthday presents.

plain brown wrappers

a number of years ago i quit buying wrapping paper, mostly. sometimes i will buy a roll or two of black paper for use at christmas, but mostly i go with brown bags.

recently i went to dinner to celebrate the birthdays of my sister and my stepmother.

my stepmother got the one labeled "nearly respectable wrapping".

arrowheads

between seasons at catamount they do two things: they rest the trails which helps curb erosion during mud season and stick season and they mark the new season's trails.

side note: in vermont we have six seasons: the four regular ones, and mud season and stick season. mud season is the time between snow melt and when the ground dries out between winter and spring, and stick season is the time between when the leaves fall down and when the snow comes.

at catamount the trails are closed during mud season and stick season, as well as for parts of spring and fall.

the winter trails are different than the summer trails, and the summer trails of one year are different than the summer trails of another year. 

of course, you can use all the same trails every year and just add the new cut, but the marked trails change seasonally which gives people some variety if they like to stick to what's marked.

wen you get right down to it, though, that means that in addition to preparing trails for summer or winter use, old arrows have to be pulled so new ones can be put up. someone has to walk each trail with a screw gun and a pack basket and bring in all the old ones.

sometimes that someone is me.

sometimes i kind of think that what i'm really best suited for is norwegian television, where long-running documentaries about firewood or knitting are extremely popular.

the trails are closed, but the trail designer gets to ride his spiffy fat-tire bike anyway. take a look at his back wheel and showy cutouts!

technically, they're meant to reduce the weight of that huge wheel, but they look cool.

mountain road closed: so what?

the mountain road (vermont route 108) closed for the winter a couple of weeks ago.

one saturday morning recently i decided to park my car at the gate and walk up the road. i did not realize that a closed road equals an instant rec path.

hard to get a parking place.

have a look at the google map if you like.

if you'd like to see a cute little streetview player of this route in google maps, it's here. i really, really recommend looking at that because cool.

it was a crowded place. there were families out with kids, people walking dogs, people walking,

running, traveling by ski, snowshoe, snowboard, sled, snowmobile, people carrying rock climbing gear, and people on horseback.

apparently just because it's going to be a few months before we can  once again travel conveniently in our automobiles between stowe and jeff is no reason to be sad.









here's my full set of pictures:

apple forage

i know, i know.

i keep telling you all that i'm going to show you my forage bags with some of this year's apples, but i never do.

here are apples that i gathered along the forest road near somerset landing.














and here they are sorted. there's a BRIGHT RED apple, a red-orange-pink stripey apple, a yellow apple with hot pink spots, a yellow orange stripey apple, and a yellow-orange stripey apple with red spots.

they all taste different.








in my kitchen: apples, apple butter, apple bread pudding.

off to the far right? michelle bachmann.

no, seriously. it's pad thai. smarter and more practical.

apple bread pudding.


mmmmmm, pudding.

free pumpkin!

ok, so i made this thing.

i needed recipes to use up pumpkin because halloween day i was driving down route two and at conant farm they were giving away the last of the season's pumpkins on the lawn for free.

now, you maybe see free pumpkins and think "decorations!" but i see free pumpkins and i see food.

so i found that recipe and pretty much made it.

when i say "pretty much", there are some differences in how it got executed in my house.

for starters, even though everyone tells you that for cooking you really want to use darlin' little sugar pumpkins and not field pumpkins.

that's all fine and dandy, but what i have to work with is one enormous misshapen FREE pumpkin.

free, as in "there's a few more dollars i'll have to spend on heat or something later on."

second thing and along the same lines: while i know onions are not interchangeable with shallots, they come close and i HAVE onions that i'd like to use before they go soft and shallots have to come from the grocery store.

so if i adjust the recipe, the only ingredient i have to buy special is the goat cheese.

and i know you are all dying to know: is it good?

why, yes.

yes it is.

it is very, very good.

october road 2013

here are the photos.

hey, professor! could you turn off the lights?

let's roll the film.

signs you're a hatwipe.

ok, so maybe you don't like diane feinstein.

maybe you think she's a dangerous and corrupt tool of the surveillance state.

i do.

but the second you include in your criticism words that are uniquely associated with women or comments on her appearance, you are being a sexist asshole. it's amazing how often you guys think it's ok to call some woman an ugly cow when you don't care for her politics, as if her failure to be sexually available and attractive to you is somehow part of her unsuitability for office.

you will notice, perhaps, that news stories about rob ford center around his crack-smoking and his blackout drinking and his threats to have people killed.  i have not yet heard him referred to a fat/old/ugly/cow, which is a criticism that usually gets tossed on the pile when we are talking about women.

because really, the greater crime is not bad behavior or bad politics. the greater crime is being a woman, and a woman who has bad behavior or bad politics is fair game for being evaluated in terms of her use as an object on which to fulfill men's sexual desires.

i have news for ya, pal: you're an asshat.

moving on to race: maybe you think the president is a lying mealymouthed two-faced scumbag of a corporate shill masquerading as a populist.

that wouldn't be an unreasonable criticism.

but the second you include in your criticism the hint that he is a shiftless watermelon-eating monkeyman you are a racist asshole.

maybe you just want to pile on as much invective as you can, but the fact that you think any woman's sexual attractiveness or availability is part of what you consider to be fair game informs the rest of us that this is really how you consider all women and that you are a sexist asshat to be avoided.

likewise when you are discussing criminal behaviors and you just HAPPEN to mention that the actor in the case is black, because obviously there's a causality.

out here we notice that you are never without your dog whistle. we hear your feeble little aggression and we are not amused. and not only will i not be kind to you, but history will not be kind to you, either. you are a relic of a bygone era already.

i would like to invite you to catch up to the 20th century.

the 21st seems like too much of a stretch for you.

down the reservoir road

i wanted to make some kind of photo tour of a trip down somerset road so i went up just at sunrise and started taking pictures all the way down of the structures on the road, with the exception of the buildings and fenced-in structures on the underside of the dam.

i like to imagine the lives of the buildings along the road; some of them are year-round residences, some are fixer-uppers, some hunting camps or fishing camps or just a family's summer residence. you can sort of tell which ones will be occupied only as a deer camp and which ones will host whole families, extended family, and friends in their seasons.

they are all off the grid. there's no city water, no city sewage, and the electricity made along the river does not come back up here on lines.

the morning i was taking pictures along the road the owner of this house came out to ask me what i was doing. "taking pictures of all the buildings down the road, as sort of a photo essay".

he wanted to know where i was from, and he seemed to be satisfied that i'm from west bolton, and the unsaid conversation that passed between us was that while i was an outsider to this place, i had a proper understanding of small hilltowns and i was acceptable even if i am from chittenden county.

he told me that he is in the process of ripping off the siding and reinsulating the whole house and installing solar panels, because it's an old house and it costs a bundle to heat. he was in the process of pouring concrete pads for the panels behind the house and he took no small pride in telling me he was doing all the work himself.

then he said he had to drive his granddaughter to school and wished me a happy day. i wished him  good luck with his work and good weather for it, and i went on down the road.

roberts cemetery

there isn't a lot to say about this backroad hill cemetery, because there aren't that many of the stones that can still be read.

here are two stones that crumbled away long ago, probably someone in the town office has a record of who he is. he's been dead a long time but somebody still keeps a flower planted on his grave.










and i looked up david tottingham to find out maybe where he came from and why he is here, but he remains a mystery.

david tottingham
died
oct. 11, 1831:
aged 76 years.


how strang. o; god, who reigns on high
that i should come so far to die,
and leave my friends, where i was bred
to lay my bones with strangers dead
till i do hope when i arise
to dwell with them up in the skies.

davidson cemetery and down the rabbit hole

sometime last month i was in the davidson cemetery in whitingham, vermnot.

if you've been following my story you know that i am often in old cemeteries and i often come home and look up what i can about the people buried there because, you know, history. remembrance.

here are some of the shumways.

i say "some", because here is amasa shumway's stone with mary and betsey, his third and fourth wives.

by my awesome powers of deduction i know that somewhere there are two other wives.

if you look this guy up, though, there's a lot of information that tells you less about him and more about the founding of the state of vermont and life in this place at that time.

he was  a soldier in the revlutionary war and as such entitled to some land grants. he spent a lot of time, apparently, petitioning the newly-fledged united states government on behalf of himself and other settlers for land in the whitingham grant, which in itself took a lot of petitioning from the king of england and came up against some claims by the then governor of new hampshire, benning wentworth, who has been described by some as a greedy land-grabber.

no doubt.

there's a very long read about it in the cornell university library, which you can find in its glorious entirety online. it carries the unassuming title of "some facts about the early history of whitingham, vermont", but it begins with the precious sentence "COLUMBUS discovered some islands
of America in 1492." and goes on to explain briefly the decision by the pope to divide lands in the new world between spain and portugal. eventually it is revealed that

"Vermont at this time was an unknown wilderness, inhabited by savage beasts and still more savage Indians, except a fort or two had previously been builded, and a small settlement around each in the southeast part of the state, then supposed to be in Massachusetts, and along some streams, lakes and ponds where wild grass grew."

you get that? "still more savage indians? the author has just completely glossed over the whole concept of terra nullius, or vacant land. you know, because. savages.

after a while the tone settles down mostly and the author begins to present the record of grants, letters, and meeting minutes, along with some hearsay regarding documents that used to exist, but were lost in a fire.

there is an interesting item from 1780 in which amasa shumway and nineteen other men took the freemen's oath.

it's an interesting item to me because i have taken the freemen's oath, and my parents had to make a special trip to an eccentric local justice of the peace in the 70's to take the freemen's oath, which was of great amusement to them because apparently in new jersey where my parents are from, you don't have to show up before a justice to take the oath before you register to vote.

see, in the state of vermont we all have to take the freeman's oath in order to vote. women have been permitted to vote in vermont since 1920, but the oath was still called the freemen's oath right up until 2002.

so yay, women's suffrage!

but i was just talking about a visit to a cemetery, right?

yeah. i get like that.

here's the headstone of mr. isaac chase, whose inscription is notable:

mr.
isaac chase
died
30 march 1825
in the 51st year of his age.

ninety-six hours before his death, he was seized
with an inflammation on the lungs, he bore his
disstress with christian fortitude, and seemed to
be humble resignd to the will of god, leaving a
wife and six children soon to follow him.





there's a lot i want to ask about this. "seemed to be humle resignd"?  politeness of phrase? hinting at what seems against what is? rage with the no-good son-of-a-gun for leaving the widow and children who will DOUBTLESS DIE SOON WITHOUT HIM?

it may be noted that his wife susannah did not follow him immediately into death and that his daughter lucy lived a handful of years past, as well.

there are a truckload of isaac chases in this area of the world in the early history of vermont; there are at least two in this cemetery alone.

this isaac chase s one of the first settlers of whitingham. the isaac chase buried a couple of rows back (visible in frame as the leaning headstone behind and to the left) is almost certainly a relation.

it is not clear to me if these isaac chases are completely unrelated to the isaac chases of stratton (well-known baptist folk) or the mormon isaac chase who lived in central new york but was close to brigham young, who is from HERE.

let's just say there's a very high density of isaac chases in specific, and chases in general.

road diary october 2013 part 2

i don't have the pictures all organized yet, but if you want to read the geocaching logs, you can start here.

maps in winter

well, it's winter here. for the past three days it has been snowing some for part of every day. smuggler's notch (the road)  is closed for the season, but smuggler's notch (the ski resort) won't open for skiing until november 29th, they think.

vtrans has a cool map of all the state road information here, so if you need to know about vermont road information or you just like, maps, you should go look at it.

otherwise if you like etymology and maps, there's this, and if you have a LOT of time to kill and you would like to plan your travel in ancient rome, there's this.

and if you're a big fan of rocks (and who isn't?) the vermont geological survey has a collection of maps and they are so juicy that i got lost in there one morning last week because it's really, really important to know whether those slates you were looking at were part of the gile mountain formation or the waits river formation.

captain's log: supplemental

http://www.demandprogress.tv/

go there. sign up to watch.

varying degrees of unwelcome

out in the national forest, private landowners coexist with users of public land.

most of us are polite passers-by and realize that just because someone has a home or a camp in the national forest does not make it public property nor a public recreation area.

but besides the occasional bozo who will decide to camp on your lawn because it's convenient, people out there also have to deal with agents from companies who want to use the land for mineral rights, logging rights, fracking exploration, hydro projects, or wind farms.

many of the landowners are less than deeee-lighted at this intrusion into their land and property rights.

or if they welcome, say, the wind project or the fracking exploration, they maybe are sick of having activists against it come knocking on their door.

if these people wanted a bunch of visitors, they'd live IN TOWN and not all the honk out in the national forest and so far off the grid, you know? i think setting up your household so far out of the middle of nowhere that you have to drive a half hour to get to the middle of nowhere is a pretty good signal that you would like to be left alone, mostly.

the people in those houses have a variety of signs to indicate this, and they vary in tone along a continuum of exasperation. here are two of my favorites.

number freaks

hey, all you number freaks!

today is 11/12/13 if you're in one of those countries with the silly month/day/year format that nearly nobody uses but you're emotionally attached to or jus or just 'murica, yeah.

whatever.

i am conversant in both date formats and also don't pitch a hissy fit if you write "honour" or "colour" or "programme".

but any excuse for a festival, eh? today is a good reason to read dates in m/d/y format, because 11/12/13!!!

hello! how cool is that?

so today i am going to celebrate by making bread pudding - ok, i make a lot of bread pudding anyway this time of year, plus it is one of my favorite things to have for second breakfast.

yes, i eat second breakfast in my house. it has nothing to do with hobbits and everything to do with having eaten a light first breakfast at around 0400, so i simply do not last until noon without an intermediary meal.

anyway, i'm going to make bread pudding.

and then later i am going to make coconut rice pudding with mango, because i have a ripe mango.

i loves me some pudding.

so THAT'S what i'm doing to celebrate 11/12/13, and i will be making my official observance at 14:15, because.

11/12/13 14:15

i may die from delight.

you'll get another chance next year on 12/13/14, but after that you're done for another 987 years.

so make the best of it.