Thunder of Wade

It was a Saturday morning and I was out in the front yard with a leaf sweeper.  There weren’t a lot of leaves but too many to rake and I was making my way up and down the yard at a steady pace.  

Near one of the large trees in the yard, I stopped.  There was a smell and it was horrible.

As protocol dictates, I checked my shoes.  Nothing there, but there was…something.

I moved the leaf sweeper back the way I had come and started looking around on the ground – assuming it was some kind of poop, though it didn’t really smell like that.

Instead, I found something horrible.  

It was roughly spherical and about the size of a golf ball.  Clearly organic, it was a solid mass – mostly tan in color with some light purple and patches that looked like fat that were nearly white.

A tiny part of me was curious.  What was this?  How long had it been there?  What animal had it come from?  And what was inside?

But the rest of me – that has seen too many movies that start just like this – knew that even if this wasn’t an evil fleshy mass holding an alien parasite ready to leap out and infect me, it would still be something that I wanted no part of. 

I went and got a shovel and a plastic bag.  And I found a stick, which I used to carefully turn over the mass. It was about the same on the other side and I confirmed the overall shape.

Still no clues, so I scooped it up with the shovel and put it in the bag – which I set aside and partially knotted so I could reopen it if I found anything else.

I didn’t see anything so I went back to using the leaf sweeper.  I kept noticing a smell, though, and stopped to investigate.  

I hadn’t been quick enough to stop before and had rolled over something I think related to the mass.  Something black and stringy, with smaller masses lodged inside.  These strings had wrapped around the shaft of the leaf sweeper and were tangled into a foul smelling mess.

I flipped the sweeper over and got the bag open again.   Armed with my trusty stick, I carefully began to unwind the strings – which I assumed at this point were squirrel intestines.  Making the earlier mass perhaps a stomach?

It took a while, but I finally got all the strings unwound and bagged.  I tossed the stick in the bag as well for good measure and then closed it up for good this time.  

The last step was to hose off the sweeper to finally be rid of the smell.  I finished the lawn sweeping without incident, but I did manage to roll over some undiscovered dog poop in the backyard that required another round with the hose.  

The suburbs are no place for the weak of stomach or faint of heart.

There was another mass shooting recently – this time, at a university in Michigan. 

We mourned for the lost lives of the students while we tried to focus our own communications on information and preparedness. 

After spending far too much time reading the news, I signed myself up for the online course/video offered by UA called Run, Hide, Fight. 

It was a half-hour video presented by the UAPD with information on how to react to an active shooter event and while it was well done, it was also terrible. 

They talked about the goal of the shooter being a “high body-count” and how we should try to Run if we could to get away (and how not to be mistaken for the shooter and be shot ourselves by law enforcement). If we couldn’t Run, we were supposed to Hide and barricade ourselves until getting an all clear.  And if Hiding wasn’t an option, it was time for improvised weapons and rushing the attacker and Fighting to save ourselves.

There were two videos they played in the presentation and the first was set in a nightclub where the patrons were reacting to an active shooter and then “breaking the fourth wall” to explain to the camera and us what they were thinking and what they were doing.    Intense, but useful to see this planned out.  Maybe even a little reassuring that it was possible to think and not panic.

The second was in an office environment.  There were no thoughtful cutaways and helpful tips, it was just a gunman flatout murdering people with a shotgun.   A few people managed to do the Run, Hide, Fight as they were trained, but only after they had been alerted to the threat. 

Now, I’ve watched a lot of TV shows and movies and I’m not bothered by violence on the screen.  I can see how it advances the plot, the motives are clear, and the hero saves the day in the end.

This one, though, really bothered me.  No clever plot device and no distancing us from the actors – we were expected to put ourselves in the role of the victims and it was all too easy to do so. 

After it was done, I was a little shaken up and started to look around our office as a risk assessment.  We’re in a big glass building in the middle of campus, our office suite has only one exit right onto a main hallway, and the main door to our suite has a big panel of glass.    Running didn’t seem like much of an option and Hiding didn’t seem any better. 

So, that evening I went to the store and bought a curtain and tension rod and then put it up the next day.  Since the suite lights turn off from a motion sensor, we use lights in our individual offices to work by.  With the curtain drawn and no lights visible from outside, we would look like we weren’t home.  So, a quick move to deadbolt the door, barricade ourselves in our own offices, and then consider going out a window if it came down to it. 

I felt a little bit better after I made a plan and put up the curtain – knowing that even the prey with the best camouflage sometimes still gets eaten.

They don’t know why the shooter went after the students at the university in Michigan.  He had no ties there and didn’t even live nearby.  But, I guess if you are looking for that body-count, you go where the people are and create as much fear as you can.

So, we’ve watched the training, learned the mantra, and have a little plan to try and keep us safe. 

But I don’t feel safe.

Another story from the island trip…

Jim and I signed up for a Sunset and Stargazing trip to the top of Mauna Kea – the tallest mountain in the world.  

If you measure from the bottom of the seafloor.  

Which they do.

We grabbed jackets, put on long pants and comfortable shoes and went to the mall – the designated pick up spot for the tour van.   

We could spot other travelers by their similar clothing – at least the ones who had read the details of the trip and the precautions. 

The van was a few minutes late and our tour guide/driver introduced himself as we loaded up.  His name was Shin and he was originally from Japan, but had lived in Hawaii for many years. But, not long enough to lose his accent.  

Which wasn’t a problem while we were in the parking lot, but once we got on the road to the mountain the noise of the van made it difficult to figure out what he was saying.  I tried to share what I could pick out with Jim, but I know we missed a lot.  Shin did have a recording he played at intervals to point out features on the trip; so that helped. 

One of our fellow passengers got motion sick and we had to stop the van.  They switched to a front seat and did better – but it didn’t bode well for the rest of the trip.  We had heard stories of altitude sickness.

We got to the foot of the mountain – at least, the part above sea level – and started the climb upwards.  The climate started to change pretty quickly and it was like being on another part of the planet by the time we reached the visitor’s center.

There was time for a small meal – snacks, mostly – while we acclimated to the altitude.  The oxygen saturation was 80% of what we’d have at sea level.  We had to spend 45 minutes there – plenty of time to check out the gift shop as well – before resuming the climb.  Only vehicles with 4 wheel drive were permitted any higher up and the road was deliberately bad to deter too many visitors.  

We stopped near the summit for a bit to check out all the telescopes and get some photos – including a patch of snow in Hawaii in the summer.   One of the members of the group was starting to have trouble with altitude sickness and had to wait in the van.  The rest of us put on our provided parkas and marveled at the landscape and the stillness.    We were a long way from the ocean waves and the sounds of traffic.  

No birds either – and no plants.  It was as desolate a place as I’ve ever been – but peaceful.

After a bit we loaded back up and finished the ascent.  At the top were more telescopes and an amazing view – from above the clouds.    We joined other tour groups to find a good spot to watch the sunset and take more photos.    I started to get a little tired since the O2 was only 60% of sea-level, but I took it easy and took my time. 

And then the sun sank below the clouds.  It was breathtaking and the only sound for a few minutes was the shutters of high-end cameras.

And then it was done.  We piled back into the van and headed back down to the visitor’s center as night rapidly fell. 

Shin parked the van, fixed us hot chocolate and we put on our parkas again as we got out.  He set up a small telescope and started pointing out constellations with a high powered laser.  We looked at the craters of the moon and got time lapse photos taken with the Milky Way as a backdrop.

Living in the city, I had forgotten how many stars there were.

With our hot chocolate finished and the star-gazing done, it was time to head back down the mountain.  The guide dropped us off again at the mall and we walked back to our condo.

We had seen the world from above the clouds, watched a telescope open to greet the night sky, traveled through nearly all the possible climates on Earth in a single day, and marveled at our small place in the universe. 

Not much will catch my attention as I scroll through videos in social media, but the science ones stand the best chance.  A short video from an enthusiastic scientist named Dr. Becky caught my eye and I watched her tell a story about a new space telescope. 

It’s the Euclid telescope and the snippet showed how it scans the sky and provides a view even better than the James Webb telescope.  In passing, Dr. Becky mentioned how it had already had “first light” on the receptors as it was moving into position before it was focused.

There were some nice images of space after that, but I was hung up on the phrase.

Even before it was really ready to “see” the sky, light had already shown on the “eyes” of the telescope  Not something it would “remember”, but that light had been captured – no matter how briefly.

We each had our “first light”, before we were really ready to see or remember.  Of all the light in the universe, we each got a little – right at the start – that was just for us.  

There seems to be more to see each time we humans look skyward and more mysteries to explore just beyond our reach.    Old light from far away, traveling unimaginable distances, to grace our eyes for a moment. 

And there will be a last light for all of us as well.  We’ll each get one last photon before the darkness takes hold – and there will be one last “final light” before the universe goes dark.

For now, the light of the screen streams photons to my eyes and I have this bit of light – just for me. 

I’ve got a few stories from our island trip and decided write them down so I won’t forget them.

The timing was odd for our trip back from Hawaii.  We had to check out of the condo by 11 am – but our flight wasn’t until 9:50 pm. 

We had some time.

So, there was lunch and a trip to a national park.  Along the way, we approached a military cemetery and we decided to stop and check it out.  It was well back from the road and the gate opened when we approached and pulled on through.  We were the only visitors as we pulled into a parking spot and got out.

The part of the island we were on wasn’t crowded like other areas and we had gotten used to the quiet – but this was another level of quiet.  No traffic, no ocean, no birds and most importantly, no other people.  

Just the wind.

It was a beautiful and well maintained cemetery and as we walked around we spoke to each other in hushed tones.  There was a small flower garden, several plaques, flat markers in the ground and several mausoleums – filled with deceased service personnel and their spouses who had made their homes on the islands and served our country.  

We talked quietly about the epitaphs on the markers and though we didn’t know any of the names we got a sense of their stories.

One epitaph below a name reads simply, “Done.”

That one got to me.  It was incredibly sad and so completely final.  

And yet, it was also peaceful.  Maybe the most peaceful place I had ever been. 

There was love there and loss.  There was memory and respect. 

And there was the peace of a journey done.  Finally, a chance to set aside everything and just…rest.

We said quiet goodbyes to these strangers and left them to be. 

Jim and I were out running errands recently and he wanted to stop and get a haircut.  I went in with him  – though that ship has sailed for me – and sat off to the side out of the way.  

I had paper with me, of course, and started to fold a few shapes.  I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to what I was doing and just let the muscle memory take over to pass the time.   I realized that there was a guy sitting across the waiting area that was watching me, so I got out some green paper and folded a small dragon.  I looked over, made eye contact and watched his face light up as I walked over and handed him the small dragon.  

“So cool,” he told me and thanked me – as though I had handed him a fabled treasure.  “It’s even cooler because of this,” he said and pulled the neck of his shirt to the side to show a dragon tattoo on his upper chest and shoulder.  

“Nice!” I responded and he took out his phone to take a picture of the dragon sitting in his hand.

He tucked the dragon into the pocket of his shirt with just the head peeking out – as though it was looking at his phone with him.  

Jim’s haircut was done soon after that and as we left the guy thanked me again and wished me a good day.

But, it already was.  The best part about folding paper is giving it away and sharing with people. 

I was thinking just the other day how lucky I am that this is the hobby that stuck with me.  I’m not good at drawing or painting and I’m not going to win any prizes for writing or photography.  But I can take a simple square of paper and do magic.   And I can give it away freely or just leave it behind where-ever I go with no consequence. 

I made a paper dragon, made a new friend, and shared a little wonder. 

The envelope looked official and came with a delivery of anxiety.  I was being summoned for jury duty for the Akron Municipal Court.

I’ve served once before and been called without serving, but for some reason this time had me freaked out.  Too many unknowns and nebulous but dire consequences for mistakes.

Like taxes, actually.

The notice said I had 5 days to respond to the survey and I waited a day before hopping online to complete it.   Except, it had my residential address wrong – though the mailing address was right.  So, I wasn’t allowed to complete it online and had to send it in.  And I had already wasted one of my 5 days I was allowed to reply.  So, a little worrying there – though I later learned that as long as it’s before the week of the duty it’s not a big deal.   And that you can call in if the week is inconvenient to get the obligation moved.  Interesting.  

I got that completed and in the mail and then waited until it was my week to start calling to see if I needed to report.  My summons color was Yellow and my group was 3 – and the week of March 20th was my week. 

The Sunday beforehand, I got some anxiety.  What if I missed something in the directions? What if I couldn’t find the right entrance on the terrible map?  What if I set off the metal detector?  If I was called, who would let the dogs out at lunchtime?  And when would I get to eat?  Would there be enough time?  Should I pack lunch?  What if I was late?  What if I got lost?  How long would the trial last?  What if I did something wrong in the trial? Would I go to jail?

With my brain melting down, I talked to Jim who gave me some calming techniques.   He noted that people usually can’t think of more than one thing at a time and making the mind/body connection could help – though, he said that if anyone could think of more than one thing at a time, it would be me.  I took that as a compliment. 

Settled down a bit, I called the number Sunday after 5 and was off the hook – no potential jurors would be reporting for Monday.  Monday night I called again, this time it was Purple, groups 1-12 for Tuesday.  Tuesday night’s call for Wednesday was Purple, groups 13-19.  

As I was leaving work on Wednesday I got a text and an email – I was due to report on Thursday at 8 am.  I called after 5 to confirm and got the instructions – and then bought lunch meat for a sandwich for the next day.  I also sent an email to my co-workers and set up my out-of-office message. I packed a lunch, a book, and some paper – along with the paperwork – and decided what I would wear.  I was as ready as I could be and that helped a little.

This morning I was up early and got to the courthouse at 7:30.  I did set off the metal detector despite my careful planning – it might have been my belt – but the guard let me through anyway. I guess I didn’t look like a bad guy.  

I found the right room and got checked in. (No, I didn’t need my parking validated nor did I need an excuse for work.)

Folks started to roll in after that – including a few that got there after 8.  Which would have just killed me if I was that late.  One guy was putting his belt back on as he walked in.  I guess he looked like a bad guy.  

And then we waited.

At around 9, one of the bailiffs for Judge Larson came in and called our names to be moved forward in the process.  I was picked and assigned #10.   We followed him through the courthouse building through a path I could never have duplicated, then took us up to the jury room in two groups.  There were doughnuts, but I figured I didn’t need any sugar.  Just before 10 am, we were brought in order to the courtroom for the “voir dire”  (which I somehow got right just now) as the potential jury review.

Both the attorneys asked us questions and we learned:

1. It would be a jury of 8, with one or two alternates.
2. The defendant was accused of disorderly conduct during the Jayland Walker protests/riots in Akron.
3. The trial wasn’t expected to last even the full day. 
4. The witnesses were University of Akron police officers. 

Interesting.

There were a few potentials that had poor opinions of law enforcement, were related to police officers, or had work hardships. 

I wasn’t the only UA person there – a guy from the Carpentry shop knew both of the officers.    When they asked what I did at UA, I told them I was the Webmaster – which is not my official title but sounded less pretentious in context than Director of Web Services.  

(The woman sitting next to me whispered, “cool title”. Which it is. )

I noted that I wouldn’t have a problem with a Not Guilty verdict – against the officers’ testimony – since I didn’t know them, but might have trouble with objectivity with the defendant depending on where the crime took place since I’ve worked at UA for 25 years and got my degree from there.  I’m a little protective of UA.

The defense asked a lot more questions of nearly everyone.  Two of the guys had prior criminal records and one lady had been involved in a peaceful protest.  And another woman was a federal court clerk that knew one of the attorneys.  One guy said he had cognitive issues because of Huntington’s disease.  And someone didn’t smell great – though that was just something I noted and not part of the questioning. 

It was close to 11:00 before the voir dire finished and the judge and attorneys went to the chambers to figure out who would stay for the trial and who would leave.    I got out some paper while I was waiting and this sparked some conversation since they had seen what I worked on in the assembly room.  I folded a small person and noted that this was the most complicated thing I knew how to do. Then I said,

“If I make 7 more of these, none of us will have to stay,”

The potential jurors around me thought that was a great idea and laughed – then one asked if they thought we could get away with it.

“Maybe,” I said, “If I used legal-size paper,”

That is pure comedy gold right there, folks.

The baileff said it might take a while and we were sent back to the jury room for a bit – I had a doughnut since I didn’t know when lunch would be and I was getting a headache.

Not long after, though, it was back to the courtroom.  And both myself and the other UA guy – along with a few other folks – were “thanked and released”.  (Sounds like something you would do with a fish.)  No real surprises in those that were released – we were either too involved or too extreme in one direction or the other. 

The UA guy and I talked as we headed back to our cars – speculating on what had gone on and wondering why we had even been in the initial pool.  

I got home around noon and had my lunch – and checked in with my boss with the news that I would be online tomorrow. 

I had to call again after 5 and it was back to the Purple summons  – I was done with this round of service.   It all turned out to be interesting and not as stressful as I expected.

Civic duty = completed. 

Back in 2019 I did “something” to my foot.  I thought I had over extended my toes and it was enough that I was limping and needed a cane. 

I made an appointment with a podiatrist who was able to get me in right away. He did an exam, did an x-ray, and decided that I had “capsulitis of the middle toe”.  The doctor taped my foot and put me on a prescription – and sent me on my way. 

It got better in a couple days and since then I’ve tried to be careful on how I move my foot.  If I moved wrong, I might have to tape my foot for a few days, but recovered quickly each time. 

Fast forward to a few weeks ago, when I moved “wrong” again.  It was worse than before, far worse, and enough that I couldn’t sleep. 

I called the podiatrist to make an appointment – but that doctor was not available until March.  They suggested another doctor in the same health system who could get me in that week, but his office was in Cuyahoga Falls.  (The original doctor was 3 minutes from my house. Sigh.)

I set the appointment, got my cane back out, and hobbled my way through the days – trying to reduce the alarming swelling and taking ibuprofen for the pain. 

The day of the appointment I arrived early, hobbled into the lobby, and found the office.  And then, of course, an irritating amount of completely useless paperwork.  I mean, really, no one is ever going to look at that shit again. I filled out everything and then sat to wait.

The assistant saw me right away and I listed my symptoms as I carefully removed my shoe. When the doctor came in, things went downhill pretty fast.

He poked my foot for a few minutes until I said “ouch”.  He decided that it was mostly on my big toe and that capsulitis rarely happens on that toe.  I agreed that it was different than last time – hence my visit – and he next guessed it might be gout.    Emphasis on “guessed”.

He would next need me to have an x-ray done to learn more about what was going on – but his office didn’t have an x-ray machine.

“There’s just no room,” he explained, as though the very notion was absurd.  I didn’t point out that the other doctor at the other office had managed to find room for an x-ray machine, but I was deeply annoyed when he suggested I could just get one done “anywhere”.

“like the post office?” I thought to myself, but he was already ushering me out of the exam room. I got the printout with the order for x-ray and a prescription for a complicated anti-inflammatory.  The clerk at the desk suggested that I could have it taken at the hospital down the street. 

I got to the hospital, parked out front, and limped my way inside and to the front desk.  I told the guide there that I needed radiology and she told me that it was…at the back entrance to the hospital.  When I visibly deflated, she quickly told me that I could go through the hospital to get there.  She gave me directions and I got lost midway there anyway.  I got more directions, found the radiology office, and had more paperwork to fill out before I got checked in. 

Then sat down to wait.

When I finally got called back, the radiologist was a student trainee from the program at Kent State.  (UA used to have a top-notch program, but they got rid of it.  Sigh.)

The trainee and their supervisor did a good job and were compassionate when it hurt as I tried to put full weight on my foot for the scan.   When they were done, I got sent back to the lobby to wait on the disk with the x-ray of my foot – that I would need to take back to the doctor for my follow up appointment a week later.

I managed to limp back to my car without incident and then went to the drugstore to get my prescription. 

And then, before heading back home, I stopped and got two doughnuts and some hot chocolate. Because I needed it.

At home, I started the medicine and fed the dogs.  And then went on into work.

The swelling went down a bit over the next few days as I worked my way through the complicated prescription.  (6 pills the first day with 2 at breakfast, 1 at lunch and dinner, and two more before bedtime. Then 5 the next day with 1 at breakfast, 1 lunch, etc.)

The day of the follow-up appointment, I hobbled my way into the office and waited with CD-Rom in hand.  The doctor was able to bring this up online so that disk was a waste, but you just know if I hadn’t had it I would have needed it.  

Nothing really showed up on the x-ray, so, “might be gout”.  I got another prescription order and was sent on my way – without much guidance.  

I went to the drugstore – and they were out of the medicine. Of course.  I signed up for the text messages and waited. 

Jim went with me when I got the message to pick it up so we could go to KFC afterwards – and while I was getting the prescription filled the only good part of this whole thing happened.

It was $.75   For the the 30 day supply of the anti-inflammatory.  Even the clerk was taken aback.  I paid with cash – which I haven’t used in ages – and started it the next morning.  I’m halfway through the supply and it’s done its job – my foot is better and I’m not limping.  

So, I’ll save the rest for the next flareup and spend some time on the internet trying to figure out how to prevent this or minimize it when it does happen.

I’m also not going back to that doctor – it was a frustrating experience and I can get better care elsewhere. 

$90 in co-pays, 6 bucks in medicine between the two, and 1 total sick day.  Along with 2 weeks of not sleeping well and…being slow.  

And there we have it.  I might have gout. 

It began with the age old question – what to have for dinner. I suggested chicken, but…from where?  Maybe Canes, but Jim didn’t want to go all the way to Cuyahoga Falls for dinner. He decided to check the internet for suggestions. 

I got ready to go while he was doing that and he narrowed it down to a few places – we eventually decided on KFC.  While he was getting ready, I asked where there was a KFC and, a little puzzled, he asked me to look it up on my phone since he’d been looking at the menu and not the address. 

“The closest one is in Cuyahoga Falls,” I said and he sighed – but I followed up with “Google says it’s only 5 miles away,”

“Really?” he said, “Seems like it would be farther than that, but I guess if we go through the valley…”

He trailed off as we put our coats on and we headed out the door.  I did a search on the GPS and found the location – though the address number was maybe different than what I had remembered from google.  It should be fine, right?

We headed down to Market street and the GPS took us to a couple of side streets before putting us on Sand Run road – though she pronounced it SANDRUNROAD.  A little odd since you can get on Sand Run right from Market, but I commented that she’s gotten me out of some rough situations and I like to indulge her occasionally.

We went down Sand Run for a bit and then suddenly – with no warning we knew of – the road was closed.  It was open to “local traffic”, but we had no way of knowing how far that would get us.  The only option was to turn right. 

The GPS recalculated quietly and kept trying to get us to turn around and head back to Sand Run.  We kept looking for a spot to turn left and get back on track, but it’s the valley and there aren’t many options.  

Eventually, the GPS decided we weren’t going to turn around and plotted a new route going forward.  There was a lot of “turn left in .5 miles” and then “turn right in 300 feet”.   Our “5 miles from home trip for chicken” seemed to take a lot longer – though we didn’t keep track. 

At one point we had to make a left turn and then quickly get over into the right lane to make the next turn.  The car in front just drifted on over – I quickly checked behind me, then gunned it to make it over as well.

“Did you cut that guy off?” JIm asked.   “No,” I replied, “I looked, there was plenty of room,”

“In other words, you did cut that guy off,  but we’ll let it go because you’re hungry,” he said.

Finally, we were in the valley and on more familiar ground as we made our way to Cuyahoga Falls and finally State street.  I joked that we could just go to Donato’s and get pizza, but Jim insisted that we’d come all this way and we were damn well going to get chicken.  

And then, KFC wasn’t there.  The GPS was clear, but the building was closed and dark.  Flustered, we kept going a bit while I looked for a place to turn around or at least stop and get our bearings – and it was suddenly up ahead.  

They had moved to a new and better location – hence the discrepancy on the address – and we pulled in.

We both got the chicken tender meals with fries and biscuit – buffalo sauce for me and honey for Jim.   We ate our meals and joked about the strange trip for our simple meal.  The chicken and fries were really good and Jim ordered a Chicken Pot Pie to go for lunch tomorrow.  As we got in the car to go I asked, warily,

“So, how do you want to handle this?”

“We’ll just follow her back and if she has us turn on Sand Run, we’ll just go down the next road,” JIm replied.

And then off we went.  We back-tracked part of the way and then the GPS had us turn right on Sand Run Parkway.  To the left, it was Road Closed.  We speculated that we might have been able to get through after all, but we were both a bit turned around.

Neither of us spoke as we headed up the completely dark and deserted road – hoping the way through would work, but also irritated at how much time we had lost getting there if it was open far enough. 

We rounded a corner and went up a slight hill and I had just enough time to see the sign “Ford impassable when…” and thought, “what if you aren’t driving a Ford?” when we suddenly drove through a stream that was running across the road.

There was some loud and colorful swearing involved – mostly me – but we made it through unscathed.

Slightly shaken, we continued on through the dark until we reached an intersection.  Left was SANDRUNROAD – but it was closed.  So, that answered the question. A right turn would take us further from home.

We went straight on through and the GPS quickly found a new route – which had us back on familiar streets again and home in no time. 

Hell of a trip just to get chicken tenders.  Remind me to tell you about the time we tried to go to Tom and Chee and it was closed forever.

It was good chicken, though. 

I’ve noticed that my attention span has bottomed-out as of late.  Even as I started to write this, I stopped after writing the title to visit two websites, fix myself some tea, and get some music going in the background.  I can’t pay attention like I used to in a good book – having a device containing all the knowledge (and opinion) of the world in my pocket is a difficult temptation to resist.

Still, though, I’ve found the occasional activity that takes up my attention in a very mindful way and provides a little mental peace.

One is, strangely enough, peeling oranges.  I got together with my family for an early Christmas at a rented cabin and we had to bring food for the weekend.  I brought a bag of oranges as a snack, but we ended up not opening them since we had so much of everything else.   I took them back home and wasn’t sure if I could eat them all before they went bad.  They were small so I would sometimes peel a couple in a single sitting.

Peeling an orange takes two hands and some concentration to do well.  I have an orange peeler tool with a hook to cut the skin in a neat line.  The other end, or a fingernail, pulls the edge away from the fruit – slowly working it loose until the peel comes off in as big of a single piece as I can manage.  Moving on to the rest of the peel until it’s all removed, then some clean-up of the rind – never perfect but not needing to be.  Then careful study to find the line between two slices that will separate the fruit evenly.   Each segment removed individually and studied for a moment in the light before being eaten – like tasting sunshine on a clear day.

Each step is distinctive and requires separate techniques – but all fit together to accomplish the goal.  And if the segments of fruit can be shared, all the better.

I finished the whole bag and enjoyed the quiet focus of peeling them almost as much as I did eating the fruit. And a little extra vitamin C doesn’t hurt.

—

That same trip, my family exchanged Christmas gifts and I got a quill pen from my folks.  It was something I had asked for – something interesting to try – and the feathered pen came with ink, a stand, and several nibs. It took some time for me to find the right nib for my writing and even longer to get used to the timing to dip into the ink. 

My handwriting is terrible and I started with printing to get used to it.  When I switched to script I had to look up a few of the letters again and bought some lined paper to work on my spacing.

Should be less surprising that this activity too is very mindful – the Japanese culture and script makes writing into an art unto its own – but it surprised me at how much I enjoyed practicing this.  I got a little lost in filling page after page with writing – even digging into books to find quotes to copy out so I’d have something to write about. 

No phones, no TV, just a little music in the background or some comfortable silence. 

If I’m careful and take it slowly, focusing on each letter at a time, my script is getting towards…passable.   I’m a long way from “elegant”, but zoning out and getting lost in the rhythm of dipping into the ink is welcome.

So, that’s it.  Peeling oranges and writing quotes from “Dune” with a quill pen.  Those are pretty much the main things keeping my head together these days.