We bought 8 baby chicks the last night….the beginning of recovering a flock after various predators laid waste to most of our existing flock.
Here’s a guy who has 1,000 chickens.
That’s a lot more than 8.
But….if we let our new chickens hatch out some more baby chicks (when they’re appropriately mature, of course) we might be able to have a thousand chickens running around our yard!
That might be inappropriate for our lifestyle.
Sometimes you need to know when to quit.
Hey!
I recognize this guy!
A short documentary following Altra Red Team Athlete, Ben Light, in his pursuit of finishing 2 epic endurance races, the Wasatch 100 Miler and the Tahoe 200 Mile Endurance Run… back to back!
Endurance races like this must be a pretty transcendental experience.
Running two big races back to back….must be pretty spiritual.
Out of body…in a body pushed to a limit that most will never experience.
Pretty amazing.
I had a dream last night about turntables.
Hold on for a second….the coffee’s ready downstairs.
OK…I’m back.
I had a dream last night about turntables.
They were everywhere.
They were under the bed, in the closet….down in the kitchen….in the bathroom, even.
Somewhere in the dream, I panicked because I noticed that a couple of the ones in the bathroom had been stepped on….and the dust covers were broken.
I was angry until I remembered that I had turntables stacked everywhere.
I could spare a couple if I had hundreds of replacements.
Whewwwww.
I haven’t had a turntable set up since my older children were little.
That’s been 20 years or so.
Little crazy hands and turntables don’t go together.
Or, maybe….THEY DO!!!!
And….that’s the problem.
(Those last 5 sentences are the “real part”. I jumped from a dream to my reality too quickly there. That’s a hard jump if you didn’t see it coming…..)
What was I saying?
Oh, yeah….that’s the problem.
It’s a problem because a turntable can be broken and sidelined by any number of subtle and nefarious machinations.
I have no faith that a turntable can survive a house with young children.
You can’t go retro with new blood in the place.
Maybe I’ll give it another shot one of these days soon.
WHYMY (that could be a word, right?) so nostalgic for a round piece of plastic that corrals my music?
Why am I dreaming about turntables?
This was my Christmas present.
It was a joke.
At least, I think it was a joke.
I haven’t had a need to use them yet.
In case you can’t read the tiny package, it says “emergency underpants”.
Like, I was going to poop my pants somewhere where I’d need to drop my drawers and freshen up.
Hahaha.
Very funny, family, very funny.
That’s not me.
I am not that man.
I don’t know that carrying a spare set of underpants (no matter how craftily they’re hidden and squished into a small package) is going to protect me from Armageddon.
I’m going to be never-ready when the hammer falls….even though I’ll be able to change my underwear after the dooky hits the fan.
Remember that song, “I Wish They’d All Been Ready”?
That’s a spooky one.
Lots of little Christian kids….sanctified or sanctimonious (and I suspect there is a big difference between the two)….were either terrified or lifted to a new height of religious superiority by songs like that.
There’s power in being able to look at all the “thems” and declare, “gee….I wish they’d been ready.”
That’s power …to be up in the life raft….singing a song with the other people floating along.
Awww, shoot.
I’d be grabbing everybody up until the boat began to sink….or, failing that, handing out my emergency underwear.
You can only do so much.
I wonder why my family thought that I needed that present, though?
Do they see something that I don’t?
Our dog, Appa, barks at planes.
He can’t see them.
He can hear something big in the sky…but he doesn’t know what it is.
I hear him barking at night….barking at all of the unseen things.
Barking at planes.
Great Pyrenees! Go figure.
I’m “barking at planes” a lot of my days, too.
Worrying about things.
Perceived problems and unresolved disputes.
It’s nothing I can see, either….probably nothing that even really exists.
It’s just something that I think is outside of my fence
Now, if the expression of my worry got too intense….if I started scratching holes in my skull or began talking to myself more urgently…someone might suspect mental illness.
I’m Norwegian, though….so my worry is expressed by just waking up early and drinking too much coffee…staring quietly out into that dark night….full of silent angst.
That’s the Scandinavian way.
That’s how I roll.
Anyway, it’s best to never show your cards….whether you’re playing a game or going nuts.
Who wants to see that?
People have enough to worry about.
I’m not sure what’s “out there”.
I don’t know how to figure all these people and their motivations out.
Barking at these planes isn’t going to stop them from flying.
I need to let them roll on by.
Roll by, planes…roll on by.
Go somewhere…. away from me.
Awwwww.
Man.
This is the treasure that you accumulate that enriches….light enough to travel….soul food.
What a great company to hi-lite people like this….simple and expansive in spirit.
My friend Dusty said once that I was “good medicine”.
That’s one of the nicest things that anyone’s ever said to me.
These guys are all “good medicine”.
I hope that the Korean subtitles are helpful.