Just
being Henry.
The
charming little guy likes to kick all the pillows off the couch. In fact
he swims from one end of the couch to the other to make it happen.
Sometimes
he loses focus and falls asleep.
It’s
a process.
But
it always ends with Henry on the couch and the pillows on the floor.
Yesterday
was a down day for Henry. Last legs. Today he’s bright and shiny
again.
Here’s
a picture of a hiking trail in a park in Austin.
May 29th.
Henry is hanging in there. Some days are better than others. Our
Ford Transit Van got built. Now it’s in a holding pen waiting for a train
ticket to Houston or San Antonio. After the train ride, it will get a
truck ride to our dealer. Mid-June is still the target date for delivery
to us. Christie, Kyle and Cameron made a visit to Colorado. Kyle
ran in the first wave of the Bolder Boulder 10K and finished sub-forty minutes,
achieving his goal. He collected his special shirt then circled back to
the start, found Cameron, Conner, and some of Conner’s friends who were
starting much farther back, and ran it again with them. Becky, Brian, and
Christie started yet further back and walked it. The Bolder Boulder is a
big event, 47,000 participants. They start in waves based on expected
finish time to avoid absolute chaos. When I ran it 44 years ago, there
were so few people that we all started at once and Judy rode next to me on a
bicycle, and we didn’t get in anybody’s way. I went to Austin last week
to check out a van conversion shop to see if we could get a sofa/bed and roof
vent installed when it’s time. I liked them. We might be able to
get just what we want. It’s hot here. Thunderstorms at night.
Got some very large marble size hail once. Jesse still has a brown face.
Native
to Africa and nowhere else.
In
the 1600s they were introduced to estates and parks, first in England and
subsequently in many other countries. They are thriving in Texas parks,
but not always appreciated.
It
came looking for me! He was on the glass door looking in, so I had to go
outside and photograph him.
A
Tawny Emperor, I believe. Midwest to East Coast and down south into
Mexico.
It’s
crazy how many fulvous whistling-ducks we’ve seen this year!
It’s
a coastal bird from here south, except when it winters in South America.
We
watched every episode of Survivor 46.
It
was good all the way down to the end. The final three. Then the
jury picked the winner at the final tribal council. That’s where it went
wrong. They picked the winner based on something that wasn’t even part of
the game. The “jury” awarded the title of Sole Survivor to the player
that needed the money most, not the one that played the best game.
Outwit, outplay, outlast. That’s what Survivor is purported to be
about. It doesn’t say anything about who needs the money for a fresh
start.
I
think Survivor needs to add a new feature: jury instructions before final
tribal council. Remind the people who just played and lost what the
contest is supposed to be about.
Tiny
little bird, as the name implies. Seen here hovering in preparation for a
crash dive after a minnow.
A
summer visitor to our southern coasts and up the east side. Lives in Cuba
and the Caribbean in the winter.
All
these little dots out on the water.
They’re
least grebes.
It’s
a really southern bird, only touching the southern tip of Texas. From
there it ranges down through Mexico, the Caribbean, Central America, and a lot
of South America.
…about
science.
I
like how scientists approach knowledge. The scientific method:
Observe what’s going on.
Ask questions.
Think up an explanation.
Use that explanation to make a prediction.
Test the prediction with an experiment.
Use what you learn to guide further investigation.
The
first guess about why something is like it is, isn’t always right. The
guess might look right but keep trying to disprove it. Share what you
think you’ve learned. Let everyone else try to prove or disprove
it. It has to stand up to challenge. It has to be
reproducible. If no one can disprove it, it might really be true!
If something has seemed right for a long time, but new information comes into
play that challenges what we’ve always thought, determine if the old idea needs
to be adjusted or replaced. The results of your effort don’t have to fit
your preference. The answer might inflame emotions or might be
boring. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that the results
hold up to scrutiny and be open to modification if appropriate, so that the
entire catalog of knowledge on which we base our decisions, and further
explanations, is as true as possible. Not perfection, but our best honest
continuing effort.
Charming
little things.
All
scalloped. Rufous under their wings and white on the sides of their
tails.
It’s
a southern bird, ranging from Louisiana to Southern California and down through
most of Mexico and Central America.
I
don’t watch bugs, I watch birds. Couldn’t help stopping to admire this
though.
Something
golden surrounded by floating black dots.
A
closer look put it all together.
Best
I can tell, it’s a female Widow Skimmer dragonfly.
Jesse
has been getting questions lately. Questions like “Has anybody been
eating dirt?”
And
maybe “Does anyone think it’s time for a bath?”
Perhaps
she’s been unfairly judged. She got groomed today, and after the grooming
she looks like this.
Brown
muzzle. Brown toes. Her color is evolving!
Either
that or Javi the groomer is in on it and covering for her.
In
late April he was back to his old self. We were calling him Henry the
Wonderdog. Then it all went downhill again. Not eating, barely
drinking, I literally had to carry him outside and put him down in the grass so
he could pee. We’ve been on death watch on and off for the last two
weeks. Having the conversations about what to do when it’s over, and when
is enough enough. Are we being kind to him by letting him live out these
last few days at home or are we letting it go too far? Will we know if
it’s time to just take him in to the Vet and get that final shot? There’s
barely anything left of him. He’s lost a full third of his bodyweight,
he’s down to sixteen pounds. (He’s a twenty-five pound dog.) We say
goodbye to him every night, but he wakes up again the next morning, wagging his
tail even when he doesn’t lift his head. We’re not rushing this, he can
do it at his own pace.
Suddenly
a couple days ago he was a little bit hungry and I got him to eat a few bites
of the leftover chicken I had grilled the night before. By the next day
he was eating dog food again. He’s had three meals today, is pooping and
peeing normally, and hasn’t thrown anything up. Our White Shadow is back,
following us from room to room, making sure he’s always close to at least one
of us. He is alert, smiling, and enjoying getting petted and loved.
He wanted to play fetch in the house with the ball again tonight so we
did. He glides up and down the outside stairs with ease. Now we’re
calling him White Lightning. The rollercoaster ride continues.
We wrote in March that we
had a VIN number for our next freedom machine, the Ford Transit Van. It
looked like this on the tracking site:
Now, in May, it looks like
this:
A very small change on the
blue timeline, but the build has begun. So exciting. Every morning
coffee now is spent planning what to do to it (as little as possible), how to
travel (minimalist), and where to go (everywhere it’s not triple digits hot in
the summer).
I couldn’t get any really good pictures of
the Blackburnian Warbler
…
but I got these.
He
just wouldn’t pose.
We’ll
be back in the 90s any day now. (We’re the second line, Edinburg.)
(That’s not feels-like temperatures, that’s actual thermometer readings.
Feels-like in the area were as high as 125.) (We have air conditioning.)
May
is a good time to be heading north, away from the extreme heat of South Texas
in summer, and normally we’d have done that by now, but this year is not
normal. We have determined how we’re going to travel next but have not
yet achieved the means. our newest freedom machine, the Transit Van. It
has not been built yet, but we checked on the tracking website and it is still
scheduled for the week of May 13th.
That’s
close. Like next week close! It’s a six-step process and we’re told
that the production phase will take from one to three weeks. Even when
it’s delivered, we still have some things to do before we’re really ready to
travel, so it’s going to be a late, and warm, start to our summer travels.
Fifty
years of marriage. That has such a nice ring to it. A Golden
anniversary. We had a great celebration then and relish it every day.
Now
we’ve been married 50 years and 2,920 days. We’re starting our 59th
year. Of course, we’ve been together longer than that. Altogether,
we’ve been a “thing” for 61 years. For our big day, we’re spending it at
home. No appointments or errands today. We’re eschewing a loud and
expensive dinner for something simple right here. It’s a good day.
Morality
plays. Character studies. Life-lessons. We watched a
television episode of Wagon Train from the early 60s. My head is still
spinning.
The
story wasn’t told in this order, but this is what it was about. Two
youngsters, squeezing bleeding hands together, swearing “blood brothers”.
Later in life, one losing his sight, they both fell in love with the same
woman. The discord resulted in a gunfight in the woman’s room, and she
was shot and killed. The hero of the story was so true to his
blood-brother commitment that he didn’t tell his going-blind friend that he
hadn’t even drawn his gun. The woman was killed by a ricochet off a brass
bed post from the going-blind guy’s gun when he shot and missed. The good
guy didn’t tell his friend, who turned out to be the bad guy, so he, the
friend, wouldn’t feel bad. He was that devoted a blood brother.
The
result is that the other guy continued to go blind and spent the rest of his
life searching for, and plotting revenge against, the blood brother who killed
his woman. In the final confrontation, years later, wouldn’t you know,
the good guy never pulled his gun and the bad blind guy shot at him, missed,
and got killed by his own ricochet off a rock.
And
the moral is…
Only 108 days to the 37th
Americas Cup!
https://www.americascup.com/37th-americascup-barcelona
Taking place in Barcelona
this time.
The competition was
initiated by the British in 1851 with a race between the British and the
Americans around the Isle of Wight (53 miles), with the prize being a silver
cup. The race was won by the Americans, the winning boat being named the
America, and thus the name of the cup for all the races since then. The
Americans successfully defended the cup 24 times in a row, for 132 years, until
1983 when Australia took it away. The cup, originally provided by the
British, has been held by the U.S., Australia, New Zealand, and
Switzerland. The Brits, of course, want the cup back, but in all these
years, have not managed to get it. They created the cup itself but have
never won it.
New Zealand
defending. Britain, Switzerland, Italy, USA, and France battling for the
honor to challenge New Zealand for the cup. The America’s Cup itself
begins October 7th. The Louis Vuitton Cup, where the
challengers all race each other to determine who gets to race New Zealand,
starts August 29th.
The boats will be about 20
meters long, with masts almost 37 meters high, and will fly above the water on
foils, achieving up to 10 times the wind speed. Expect 40-50 knots out of
sailboats!
The charge for attending
to watch the races? Nothing. No ticketing. It is open to
all. Some of us might watch it on television.
