Driven to Reflection

Tea: Vanilla Jasmine

Music: Jim Croce, "I Got a Name"

Time: Almost midnight.

Sorry I've been away for a while. I'm still sorting the new site and re-sorting out life with daily deadlines. (I used to have them as a journalist. I can get used to it again -- and before long, I will rediscover the benefits of writing several days' worth of work in advance so I don't have to freak out as evening rolls in and I don't have the next day's post written.

I meant to be back last night, but my car had other plans. It died. (I don't think it meant to. It just did.)

The battery worked. The ignition didn't -- not even a click. This had me speaking fluent ARGH, a language composed entirely of those four letters (always capitalized) in varying sequences. To wit: "ARGH! GHRAHHH! RRRRAGHAAAH!" translates roughly as, "Why won't this car start? The batttery's working! Please start, car! I have to pick my son up at the high school ten minutes ago!"

This threw me for several loops. Picture third grade, cursive practice, learning to write the letter "l" in lower case, and you have an idea of the number of loops.

I had places I had to be tonight. The kids had to get to school this morning, and wanted to get to a church activity this evening.

And the car was dead.

If we lived somewhere with decent public transportation, this wouldn't be a problem. But this is the suburbs. It's car country. The buses run in the morning and the evening.

And the car -- the only functional car -- was dead.

I've been trying to cultivate equanimity, to breathe and count my blessings when faced with this sort of thing. And I failed ... miserably.

I let myself be wrung out by circumstances, to the point where I had no energy left for anything but dragging myself to bed.

And you know what?

It wasn't as bad as it seemed.

The kids got where they needed to go. The problem turned out to be a blown fuse, not a dead starter. Help came from several directions.

And the car is no longer dead.

There's a lesson in here for me, if I'm smart enough to learn it. If I claim to believe that my daily needs (and those of my family) will be provided for, then I'd better start acting like it.

Hello ... Hello Again

Tea: Chinese Melon Seed

Music: Bob Walkenhorst, "Life Can Turn"

Time: Evening.

Yeah, I thought about the Cars song, but it seemed way too cliche.

So ... let's try this again. I stink at keeping anything up day to day, but here goes.

Since I last blathered at you, here are some things that happened:

I had a photo show end because Nighthawks -- my home away from home -- closed. I'm still a bit shell-shocked, two weeks later. Probably will be for some time to come. The regulars there were a family ... here's hoping we don't lose touch.

I ate the best duck I've ever had at The Vineyards in Weston, Missouri, and tried -- and loved -- sturgeon the next night at Justus Drugstore in Smithville (also Missouri).

I blew the water pump on the Ford. It still isn't fixed. Heck of a big paperweight, that car.

I've seen fire and I've seen rain ... no, wait. That's James Taylor.

Anyway. I'm not going to play catch-up. Too much gone by for that. But I'll try to do better at checking in each day.

Stay tuned.

Out of the Silent Steeper

Tea: Candy Apple

Music: King Crimson, "Indiscipline"

Time: Afternoon.

Hi, kids.

Yeah, I've been gone for a while. No 'Net access in southwest Kansas (I mean, they have 'Net access there. I just didn't have any myself) and a huge jumble of blargh since I got back.

No excuses, though. I've been slacking.

So ... first, to tea. The Candy Apple tea is part of a parcel that friend/colleague/undefinable kindred spirit Seánan Forbes sent to me. (More tins of tea! The rest of the family uses the same words, but with a question mark and different inflection: "MORE tins of tea?")

I'm going to be needing a lot of caffeination in the coming days, though. Remember the camera Seánan sent me? Um, yeah ... I've been taking a lot of pictures with it. A ... lot ... of ... pictures.

Last month, the owner of Nighthawks Coffeehouse was kind enough to offer me a show. The middle room, March and April. Plenty of time to get ready, right?

Enter the monkey wrench. The room opened up when the scheduled artist ... well, vanished. Brian -- said kind owner -- asked if I could get something up by next week. So, I'm getting something up by next week.

It'll come together. As it does, I'll thank Seánan with every sip of steeped fuel -- and when it does, I'll thank her again for the camera and the impetus to start shooting again.