The Ox in 2009

All of my coffee from the morning is gone. It's a happy memory. I woke early this morning in order to make one of my favorite, simple dishes- quiche. It's an old recipe from a long unseen friend and is not complicated.

I began to put together the ingredients. When I got to the mayo/Miracle Whip, I stopped. I had enough left for a small sandwich- not a quiche. My morning plan to bake and eat in the comfort of a warm home flew away like the geese in fall.

Begrudgingly, I dressed and drove to the store. I added to the list the few things left to buy for Christmas cooking. Were they even open at this hour, I asked myself as I rounded the walled parking lot of the grocery store? Yes. They were open. I bought the ingredients and returned home.

My coffee pot had turned itself off. Since I had only had one cup before leaving, this left a sinking feeling in my gut. I love my coffee- usually as dark as I can make it. It was still hot enough. I drank coffee, I baked the quiche and I ate a big piece of it.

What began as a simple trip to the kitchen ended as a simple trip to the store before I ever really got going in the kitchen. The ox- it's a noble animal. Perseverance and good humor saved my day today. I look forward to Christmas time as a time for slowing down after speeding up.

I see family more, friends in new places and I eat quite a bit at this time of year. And I sing a lot. And I look again backward to be reminded of good things which come in small packages. The news of M. de la Villehuche and his oh so final decision gave me pause. What is a trip to the store compared to the loss of more than a billion dollars? The coffee I sipped tasted so good after my trip out in the cold. And I felt peace in the moment.

I lift my cup to the oxen. 2009- the year of heavy loads carried, of fields prepared and of harvests brought in!

The Weather in chant

I normally do not borrow whole cloth to post.

Publish Post

With this post I make an exception.

Enjoy.

The Hirsute Pursuit of Excellence

Yes. I threw in a semi-gratuitous rhyme for fun. And, yes, I am in pursuit of excellence in my artistic work with the fury of the Hounds of Hades. I approach something akin to the old-school 'later years' of ones life. That phrase doesn't mean much. Later can be 15 if you are going to be gone at 20. I am 52 and will be 53 in July. Many are gone before 30, 40 , 50. Some live to be 80, 90, 100. Midlife? Did I hear someone say 'midlife'? I don't give credence to that word in this context. The only way to truly measure "midlife" is to examine the whole and divide it into halves. I'm not ready for that quite yet.

Three vistas stretch out before me. Each has its beauty and its traps set to snare the unwary. I'll elaborate.

First, I am to wed a woman of uncommon depth and beauty. Door number one, if you will. Through this door I intend to go soon. And into the world beyond I'll walk. More later on this. I await with a smile and both eyes open- and my glasses on to adapt my often myopic vision.

Two, I am a busier artist than I have ever been. I have shows up and my exposure is gratifying if not yet lucrative. My creative process has many sources. Some involve the bringing forth of new work from the nothingness out of which it must come. Also vital to my self-managed career is the management of the 'product' and sales if there be such. My career still has life, or legs as it is often put. My next Door is the door into new Creative work. The risks I take not only with the CREATION but with the PRESENTATION of the creation make all of the difference. My goal is to create and to share in meaningful and monetary fashion. And into this world I also walk.

Three, I am a musical artist. With voice I offer song. My attitude about my singing continues to undergo evolution. Shyness has turned into reluctance, and reluctance moves toward comfort. When comfort reaches urgency, I will be an artist in execution if not also in purpose. May I then still have gifts to offer. I also compose and have enjoyed a continuing relationship with talented artists willing to play my work. The second half of Door three is the birthing of music through the written pages. My foray into what I've called 'Preludes' is near the original goal of 24. This number means much to me. When I have 24 Preludes written, I will have reached a milestone. A very personal milestone. I want to have respect as a composer. Whether I deserve it will be a matter of the listeners and performers. I do know that I have enjoyed bringing the music out of nothing and experience.

There. The hirsute, or hairy, pursuit of excellence: I ramble into these doors one upon the next and welcome the worlds beyond. The option to refuse these beckoning portals lost its allure when I lost my shyness. And now for some of that urgency.

Excuse me, I have some doors to open.

Iowa in the Crosshairs of Democracy

I'm from Iowa. I was born and raised there. I do not live there now and do not really wish to do so now. It's not that I have anything against Iowans. The acorn falls near the tree. I am that acorn and I grow into my own private oak tree quite near the tree(in Kansas). I only wish to preface my coming remarks with the full disclosure now ended.

The past months of political activity have finally come to an early cadence. Those people in Iowa interested enough to get up out of their chairs and go down to wherever they go to caucus will pick whom? They will pick a man or woman who they believe can be President of the United States. That's it. After tonight, very few people outside Iowa will care AT ALL about Iowa. Please raise your head up from your chest and nod if you are surprised. If you did not hear the request, then you are still asleep and may remain so. There is nothing to get up FOR.

OK. I ended a sentence with a preposition. THAT is more interesting than the Iowa caucuses. I enjoy political discussion to a point. This obsessive focus on such a small sector of the voting populace causes my sense of proportion to flash red and buzz loudly. I am envious of the people from the early days of American political life.

I admit that the early Americans had little influence in the greater society. They had almost no influence in choosing the President of the country. This task was left to the elite. I am not of the elite now and would not likely have been of the elite then. One of my points is this- I bemoan the hoohaa in the service of a process which has become a hindrance to our general welfare.

Does it really mean anything at all if Iowans like someone for President? Or the voters of New Hampshire? Or any one state? Do we need this horribly drawn out leeching of precious resources to select two people neither of whom will really be of much value as a human being and even less as a leader? Am I as cynical as I appear to be?

Iowa. The land of my birth. Oh, Iowa. My heart bleeds with every second of inanity. May you survive this assault on your gentle nature. Peace to you, Iowa.