Month: November 2004

  • Yesterday’s News

    Two stories in the Alaska section of Sunday’s Anchorage Daily News
    caught Greyfox’s eye.  He told me about them on the phone and I
    went to adn.com
    to read them.  I thought they’d be worth sharing, especially the first one, since
    someone recently asked me if Alaska was getting tropical.  Was it pip?  I think it was.

    MELTDOWN
    Global warming has had little noticeable impact in Washington, D.C.
    Politicians in the nation’s capital have been reluctant to set limits
    on the carbon dioxide pollution that is expected to warm the planet by
    4 to 7 degrees Fahrenheit during the next century, citing uncertainty
    about the severity of the threat.

    But that uncertainty may have shrunk somewhat with the release last
    week of two scientific reports suggesting that global warming is not
    just a hypothetical possibility but a real phenomenon that has already
    started transforming especially sensitive parts of the globe, including
    Alaska.

    Overall, the reports say, Earth’s climate has warmed by about 1 degree
    Fahrenheit since 1900. In the Arctic, where a number of processes
    amplify the warming effects of carbon dioxide, most regions have
    experienced a temperature rise of 4 to 7 degrees in the last 50 years.

    That warmth has reduced the amount of snow that falls every winter,
    melted away mountain glaciers and shrunk the Arctic Ocean’s summer sea
    ice cover to its smallest extent in millennia, according to satellite
    measurements. Swaths of Alaska permafrost are thawing into soggy bogs,
    and trees are moving northward at the expense of the tundra that rings
    the Arctic Ocean.

    These changes seriously threaten animals such as polar bears, which
    live and hunt on the sea ice. The bears have already suffered a 15
    percent decrease in their number of offspring and a similar decline in
    weight in the past 25 years. If the Arctic sea ice disappears
    altogether during summers, as some researchers expect it will by the
    end of the century, polar bears have little chance of survival.

    Things are less serious in the Lower 48, where effects of climate
    change are more subtle. In much of it, spring arrives about two weeks
    earlier than it did 50 years ago. Tropical bird species have appeared
    in Florida and along the Gulf Coast. Species such as Edith’s
    checkerspot, a butterfly native to western North America, have started
    dying out at the southern reaches of their ranges.

    “Responses to climate change are being seen across the U.S.A.,” said
    Camille Parmesan, a biologist at the University of Texas in Austin. She
    is the co-author, with Hector Galbraith of the University of Colorado
    in Boulder, of “Observed Impacts of Global Climate Change in the U.S.”
    The report was released Tuesday by the Pew Center on Global Climate
    Change, a nonpartisan but not disinterested research organization
    dedicated to providing sound scientific information about global
    warming.

    Parmesan and Galbraith acknowledge that nothing in the report would
    strike the average person as particularly alarming. They also allow
    that some of the past century’s warming might have happened even if
    humans hadn’t been pumping carbon dioxide into the atmosphere. But they
    argue that the changes they describe should be taken as a “very clear
    signal” that climate change will have significant effects in coming
    decades.

    “The canaries in the coal mine are squawking, and we should absolutely take that seriously,” Galbraith said.

    The Bush administration has argued that not enough is known about
    climate change to justify major efforts at forestalling or preventing
    future warming.

    The Arctic report, released Monday, was commissioned by the Arctic
    Council, an international commission of eight countries, including the
    United States, and six indigenous groups. It was written by a team of
    300 scientists.

    “The report will be a valuable contribution to the literature on
    potential regional impacts of climate change, and the United States
    government will take its findings into account as it continues to
    review the science,” State Department spokesman Richard Boucher said in
    a statement released Tuesday.

    The United States faces a potential showdown with other members of the
    Arctic Council on Nov. 24, when representatives of the organization’s
    members are scheduled to meet in Iceland to consider climate change
    policy recommendations.

    The atmospheric concentration of carbon dioxide has risen from 280
    parts per million in 1800 to 380 parts per million today due to the
    combustion of fossil fuels. Carbon dioxide causes warming because it
    heats up more when exposed to sunlight compared to other atmospheric
    gases.

    Scientists have always expected the Arctic to respond earlier and more
    intensely than other regions to the buildup of carbon dioxide in the
    atmosphere, thanks to several phenomena that make the far north
    especially sensitive to climate perturbations. When warmer temperatures
    melt snow, for example, the bare ground that is exposed absorbs more
    heat than the white surface did, causing yet more warming. A similar
    thing happens when sea ice melts, exposing open water.

    In the past three Septembers the Arctic sea ice has melted back 12 percent to 15 percent beyond its normal minimum extent.

    “It almost suggests that maybe we’re about to reach a threshold beyond
    which the sea ice may not be able to recover,” said Mark Serreze of the
    National Snow and Ice Data Center in Boulder, Colo.

    Ice in the interior of the Arctic pack normally remains frozen from
    year to year, growing thicker with each season. But the recent increase
    in melting has eaten into much of that multiyear ice. So while the
    Arctic Ocean still freezes over each winter, more of the solid cover
    now consists of thin single-year ice that melts every spring.

    The Arctic is also particularly sensitive to warming because its plants
    and soil hold less water than those in more temperate environments.
    That means more energy reaching the ground is dedicated to heating the
    surface instead of evaporating water.

    The atmosphere is thinner in the Arctic than it is farther south, which
    also intensifies warming. And while temperate zones shed some of their
    extra heat by shipping it north in ocean currents and meteorological
    fronts, the Arctic is the end of the line in that respect.

    A minority of scientists remains unconvinced that increasing
    atmospheric carbon dioxide can be held responsible for the recent
    warming, arguing that natural variability explains most if not all of
    the trend.

    “It’s very complicated and I believe people who claim they understand
    … are just overestimating drastically their ability to do science,”
    said Petr Chylek of the Los Alamos National Laboratory.

    Scientists aren’t the only ones who have noticed the Arctic warming
    trend. Inuit hunters in Canada and Saami reindeer herders in Finland
    have detected shifts in the migratory behavior of animals. In some
    cases, people whose elders taught them decades ago how to forecast
    storms from wind patterns and cloud formations have lost their
    predictive abilities to new weather patterns.

    “One of the unique things about Arctic communities is how much they’re
    tied to the land, and that’s why this is such a big deal for them,”
    said Harvard University geographer Shari Fox Gearheard.

    Farther south, where the changes have been much less extreme, a warmer
    world remains a hypothetical realm of scientists and environmentalists.
    But the latest reports suggest that in some of the world’s more
    populated places, astute observers may soon begin to notice that the
    climate is changing.
    http://www.adn.com/alaska/story/5779406p-5712843c.html

    Anyone who hangs around here much knows I’m interested in
    paleontology.  I’ve been watching the dates for certain
    prehistoric events being pushed farther and farther back in time as new
    discoveries have been made.  Here’s another one:

    Prehistoric brown bears spread from
    Asia across Alaska and into the heart of North America thousands of
    years earlier than previously thought, a finding that could shake up
    the debate over when and how people colonized the Americas.

    A fossil jaw snatched from a conveyor belt in a gravel pit near
    Edmonton, Alberta, came from a grizzly that died 26,000 years ago. This
    suggests the big bears must have migrated south before glaciers blocked
    the middle of the continent during the height of the last ice age,
    according to a paper published Friday in the journal Science.

    Further, a DNA test of the root in the jaw’s second molar showed a
    close genetic relationship between that ancient bear and brown bears
    now living in the Lower 48 states and southern Canada. And it showed a
    far more distant connection to brown bears of the north.

    “It’s like finding a missing piece of a puzzle, or even a proverbial
    missing link,” said Paul Matheus, lead author of the paper and a
    paleobiologist with the Alaska Quaternary Center at the University of
    Alaska Fairbanks.

    The discovery contradicts a long-standing theory that brown bears, as
    well as people, could not walk south from Alaska until glaciers pulled
    back and created an ice-free corridor about 13,000 years ago, Matheus
    said.

    Recent discoveries that people were already living in the Lower 48 and
    South America about that time or earlier had spurred a competing
    theory. If the ice blocked overland travel, the first Americans must
    have traveled along the coast in boats.

    But if bears could amble south across the continent before ice sheets climaxed, why not people too?

    Over the past decade, geologists have realized that continental ice
    sheets didn’t choke off the route from Beringia to lower North America
    until about 20,000 years ago, said Matheus, in a telephone interview
    last week from his office in Whitehorse, Yukon. Over thousands of
    years, that path may have opened and closed many times before the ice
    finally receded for good.

    “It’s a complex story, and there doesn’t seem to be as much ice as we once thought,” Matheus said.

    The new understanding raised a difficult issue for paleontologists: “If
    we accept all that, why haven’t these animals gotten down south before?”

    Now scientists may need to rethink what was possible for brown bears and prehistoric people, Matheus said.

    The discovery builds on earlier work by Matheus into how brown bears
    evolved over the past 60,000 years in Beringia, the 1,000-mile-wide
    steppe that connected Alaska with Asia. The “land bridge” emerged when
    vast continental glaciers locked up water and lowered sea level.

    In a paper published by Science in 2002, Matheus and other authors at
    the University of Oxford and the Max Planck Institute in Germany
    described how eight genetically distinct populations of brown bears
    appeared and disappeared over thousands of years, and how they all
    related to modern bears in Europe, Asia and North America.

    Asian brown bears first colonized North America by spreading into
    Beringia between 100,000 and 50,000 years ago. But the animals
    disappeared about 35,000 years ago, possibly due to environmental
    change or competition with the larger, more ferocious (and now extinct)
    short-faced bear, Matheus said.

    Bears that returned to Alaska and northwestern Canada about 21,000
    years ago are similar to the bears living here now. But these newer
    bruins seemed unrelated to brown bears now found in southern Alberta,
    British Columbia, Idaho and Montana.

    So: Where did modern brown bears in the middle of the continent come
    from if their genetic ancestors went extinct in North America 35,000
    years ago?

    The Alberta fossil offers the answer.

    “The mystery has been more or less solved — they walked through
    Alberta,” said paleontologist Jim Burns, a co-author of the paper and
    curator of ice-age fossils at the Provincial Museum of Alberta in
    Edmonton. “This is the first evidence that shows they made the journey
    prior to the maximum glaciation when the passage was blocked.”

    The bear jaw had been collected in 1997 by Burns along with many other
    fossils unearthed in a gravel deposit that dated before the ice age.

    “He literally has graduate students standing there at the end of a conveyor, grabbing fossils as they come down,” Matheus said.

    During a visit to the museum a few years ago, Matheus identified the
    specimen as a brown bear. Radiocarbon tests dated the fossil, and a DNA
    analysis proved its connection to modern brown bears of the south.

    “It was a serendipitous discovery … and an elegant use of ancient DNA to answer a very specific question,” Matheus said.
    http://www.adn.com/alaska/story/5779408p-5712765c.html

    When I’m done here, I’ll be suiting up to go out and scrape the ice
    from my car windows and warm up the car for our trip to town. 
    Doug and I will pick up Seph
    in Willow, then drive to Yukon’s on the edge of Wasilla, where Greyfox
    will meet us for lunch.  Seph offered to treat us to lunch, and
    gave me the option of where to eat.  I chose Yukon’s because of
    the complete short-order menu that assures the guys of getting
    something they like, the self-service taco bar where I can eat well and
    stay on my diet, and the soup, which Greyfox says is always excellent.

    I’ll be back.

  • It’s a Virgo thing.

    Several of my readers here are Virgos.  One or another of them, on
    various occasions when I’ve expressed some preference or peeve that
    resonated for them, has commented that it must be “a Virgo thing.”

    We Virgos have lots of preferences and peeves, I suppose. 
    Generally, we go way out of our way to get things “right”, and usually
    on the first try.  Several of the people who’ve been closest to me
    in this life have said they hate arguing with me because I always
    win.  Most of them go on to say that it’s not because I cheat or
    anything, but because I’m usually right.  I do try not to argue
    unless I’m fairly certain of my position.

    I try hard at whatever I do.  Maybe that’s because of early
    parental programming, and maybe that’s a Virgo thing, too.  Over
    the years I’ve become convinced that most of the defective products and
    fouled up systems in this world are not from incompetence, but from
    lack of effort.  As I see it, just about anyone could do at least
    as well as I do, if they’d just give it a greater effort.  I know
    beyond a doubt that I could foul things up royally if I didn’t try so
    hard to get them right.

    So, given the effort I put into things, and the frequency with which
    such efforts pay off in various things that work right after I’ve
    created them or fixed them, I tend to get peeved when I’ve done the
    best I can with something and it turns out not to work.  Take
    KaiOaty’s site for example.  It was months in the planning and
    tinkering.  I had friends and family members test it, and I gave
    it every test I could think of.  It appeared to work and those
    friends and family members expressed approval and admiration.

    It isn’t that KaiOaty’s site doesn’t work at all.  It just doesn’t
    work as smoothly as I planned for it to work.  It seems to work
    excellently for some people.  I guess what’s irritating me now is
    that I don’t know what to do to get it working better, for more
    people.  And that, I know, is a Virgo thing.  Greyfox, for
    example, would leave it be.  He tells me that no matter what, “two
    percent never get it.”  That’s a military saying, probably Air
    Force, and I think they say something like ten percent don’t get the
    word the first time around, and two percent never get the word. 
    Maybe so. 

    For now, I’m bumbling along, spending a disproportionate amount of time
    and effort trying to serve the ones who didn’t get the word.  I am
    neither encouraged nor consoled by the nagging suspicion that at least
    two percent of them aren’t going to “get it” when they get their
    readings, either.

    Some good news:
    Our friend Seph (SefiraMoon),
    is back in Alaska on vacation from Iraq.  He called today and
    we’re meeting him for lunch tomorrow.  Since I didn’t do a reading
    yesterday, and may not do one tomorrow because I’ll be gone for much of
    the day, I’ve posted one already today and plan to do another one after
    I post this blog.  New requests keep coming in, and that keeps me
    busy and happy.  I love my work.  I just don’t enjoy some of
    the work I have to go through to get to do my real work.  That has
    to be a Virgo thing.

  • I’d rather not talk about it.

    I don’t like discussing my health in social situations.  I vent
    here in my journal, and I answer requests for information, and that
    doesn’t bother me.  I don’t mind talking to my family about how
    I’m feeling.  With Doug, it’s usually just a matter of bringing
    him up to speed on the disability de jour so he’ll know what’s going on
    with me and how much help I might need from him.  Greyfox asks how
    I’m doing and when I’ve told him he goes on to tell me what his body is
    up to.  It’s not a big deal.

    I understand that when most people ask, “How are you?,” they don’t
    really want to know.  It’s a social formula, a little
    how-de-do.  Even in that situation most days I’d feel dishonest
    saying, “I’m fine,” as is usually expected.  I usually say, “I’m
    okay.”  Even that is off-putting for a lot of people.  I
    can’t count the number of times in my life someone has come back with,
    “Just OKAY?!”  Sometimes, even okay is not at all accurate and I
    say I’m having a bad day.  As much as I would love to pretend that
    all is well, I don’t think that’s honest, and it can make some
    sensitive people wonder if I’m pissed off at them or something when
    they pick up on my distress.  When I’m limping, gimping,
    stumbling, fumbling and whimpering, I’d feel foolish telling people I’m
    okay.

    At the meeting Thursday one of the other members asked me how I’ve been
    feeling.  I wasn’t feeling too bad at the time, so I said, “I’m
    doing okay.”  He persisted.  He said he’d heard that I wasn’t
    feeling well.  That’s something else that makes me
    uncomfortable:  knowing that people talk about me in my absence –
    and not just about me but about my disability, this damned disease.

    This guy is one of my favorite people.  He’s not just one of my
    favorite fellow dope fiends, he’s someone I like a whole lot and
    respect for his intelligence and humor.  That he’s got a raging
    case of NPD at least as severe as Greyfox’s isn’t a problem for me but
    I’d bet it is a problem for that “significant other” he occasionally
    mentions at meetings.  Since narcissists lack empathy, I don’t
    suppose he felt me squirming inside my skin as I answered his questions.

    Fortunately after a little bit of discussion of me, as narcissists do,
    he turned the discussion onto himself.  What a relief, getting out
    of the spotlight!  But then I started getting uncomfortable,
    because he was uncomfortable on account of, even though he didn’t
    really know what he’d done, he could tell that he’d made me
    uncomfortable with his questions.  He was making some clumsy
    efforts to be ingratiating.  Since I may have more than my own
    fair share of empathy, I was really feeling for him.   
    He was probably thinking, “try to be nice, and see what it gets me.”

    I hadn’t been rude to him.  I was, I suppose, a bit short.  I
    didn’t want to talk about it.  One reason I don’t like being asked
    about my health is that I’m never sure how far to go in answering such
    questions.  I hesitate to mention even a single symptom because
    the damned symptoms come in bunches and a list of my current
    malfunctions can be off-putting indeed.  I don’t like even
    mentioning ME/CFIDS because that often gets me blank looks and a
    baffled, “Huh?”   Then there’s the tongue-twisting, “myalgic
    encephalomyelopathy….”  I’d just rather not talk about it.

    This, I know, is not an inborn aversion.  It’s something I
    learned.  Even in school when I’d be absent for an extended period
    or get sent to the nurse’s office in the middle of the day, and other
    kids would ask me what was wrong with me — and who wants to try to
    explain what’s WRONG WITH herself? — the feedback I’d get was far from
    positive.  Kids are generally cruel to anyone who is different,
    especially if they display weaknesses.

    Through many years and many different diagnoses and misdiagnoses, my
    occasional gimpiness and the times I’d simply fail to show up for work
    or for planned events, I’ve gotten a lot of negative feedback and
    unwanted attention.  I’m kinda touchy on the subject, as a
    result.  So, if you’ve been wondering how I’m feeling, don’t
    ask.  Around here, if there’s some big news to report, or any
    significant change, I’ll tell you.  When I’m truly in dire
    straits, Xanga will be the first to know, just as soon as my fingers
    are functioning well enough to work the keyboard.  This is my
    whining place.

     If you see me on the street, don’t snub me.  Say hi. 
    But for both of our sakes, don’t ask, “How are you?”  I might feel
    obliged to explain.

  • The dream started out in a college or university.  I’m a student
    there.  Some sort of job fair or career exhibition was going on,
    with various tables and booths set up in corridors.   The
    booth where I was hanging out featured psychology.  The instructor
    had been showing a video of an “innovative” (that was the claim made in
    the dream) form of therapy, involving group interaction, role-playing,
    nothing all that new.

    At the end of the show, I looked at her.  She read my mind and
    said, “I bet you wish I were teaching that.”  Then she went into a
    defensive rap about school policy, standard curricula,  etc.

    A group of my friends came by and we all walked among some of the
    exhibits before settling into a conversational grouping of chairs and
    couches in a sunny lounge.  The group included a man with whom I
    had a steady, committed relationship (possibly married), and a woman
    who had been making moves on me.

    As we were discussing the exhibits, another man came along.  I
    recognized his face, but wasn’t sure where I knew him from.  He
    took my hands, lifted me from my seat, and gave me a warm, close
    hug.  He was obviously sexually aroused.  [and isn't that
    uncharacteristically sedate, discrete phrasing for me?  Never
    mind.  Crude lewdness would not further the relating of my story
    here.]  Then he drew back, still holding onto my shoulders, looked
    at my face and asked, “Don’t you remember me?”

    There was an awkward moment, of trying to place him.  My boyfriend
    or husband was looking on, and I stammered something
    non-committal.  Then the scene shifted.

    The whole group of us had signed on to an odd project, an expedition by
    railroad.  The purpose and destination were unstated.  What
    makes it particularly odd was the private nature of the purpose and the
    train itself.  We were not just traveling on a passenger
    train.  We had accomodations on a privately-owned train which also
    included freight cars, a lab, etc., and had contracted to use
    commercial rails.  The machinery was the property of the organizer
    and leader.  Our “skipper” was a slender man with short iron-gray hair
    and a neat vandyke beard.

    We had covered some distance when we stopped at night on the edge of a
    city for what was apparently a routine inspection by railroad
    employees.  They found some oil leaking from a damaged seam in a
    fuel car, and shut down our trip until it was repaired.  It
    reminded me of a similar event eleven years ago when Doug and I and a
    ferry-load of other passengers were stuck for three days in Juneau
    harbor waiting for parts and repair on the state ferry we were riding
    down the Inside Passage.

    The skipper and I were sitting on the edge of one car, looking across
    the coupler at the damaged tanker.  He was troubled by the delay
    and extra expense, and I felt troubled as well.  I was trying to
    decide whether to rough it and camp out somehow on the cheap, or to use
    my credit cards and find some comfortable accomodations for the
    duration.  Our companions were coming by singly or in pairs,
    asking about the situation, and discussing plans.  The “stranger
    from my past” and the woman who was romanically interested in me both
    expressed a desire to share a room should I get one.

    I gave them both the hairy eyeball and said, “I bet you’ll change your
    minds when I tell you I’m sixty years old.”  They did change their
    minds, and left together.  But the skipper offered to share his
    room with me.  And that was when I woke up.

    I might have known, with Neptune and Mercury both aspecting my big
    intensity stellium, as well as Jupiter and Saturn, that I’d be getting
    some vivid and interesting dreams.  This one makes a lot of sense
    to me, but I don’t feel like parsing it for public consumption. 
    Figure it out for yourselves.  Interesting, I thought, when I got
    up from that dream this morning and found a comment from fatgirlpink, saying that lately my “words are rolling like a freight train.”


    Last night’s meeting was interesting although the topic taken from the
    daily meditation was a bullshit analogy between surrender and
    infatuation and between acceptance and love. 

    My van passengers from the rehab center are still showing the good
    humor and high morale that was conspicuously absent in the group that
    was there before.   We had fun on the ride to the meeting and
    back to the ranch.  Some of them head-tripped about taking off in
    the van and seeing how far we’d get before we got caught.  They
    were wondering how we’d get gas money, since the ranch keeps all their
    funds locked up.  I let them work on the problem and didn’t
    mention my credit cards.  The van had almost a full tank. 
    I’m betting the call would have gone out to Troopers and we’d have been
    stopped before that tank ran out.  The van has the ranch’s name
    lettered BIG on the sides.


    The drive home was harrowing, through patches of thick fog and over
    patches of black ice.  It was above freezing and wet on the way
    down the valley in the afternoon.  I saw some of my neighbors
    still shoveling the wet heavy foot-and-a-half of snow from their
    driveways.  Our driveway is mercifully short.  The driveway
    at Elvenhurst is long, but when we lived there we’d shorten it in
    winter by parking near the mouth of it.  Much easier to shovel a
    narrow foot path from the end of the driveway to the house, than shovel
    the whole drive.

    I parked my car at Greyfox’s cabin and he drove us around as I shopped
    before he dropped me at the ranch to pick up the van.  When we got
    back to his place, I had to scrape frost from my windows before I
    started home. 

    I saw cars in the ditch in several places on the way home, and there
    was one big van nosed into the berm, just sitting there dark on the
    shoulder, apparently abandoned.  One guy who passed me going fast
    spun out and went into the ditch.  He just slid, didn’t roll or
    anything, so I didn’t try to stop.  Another time, I was slowed
    behind someone ahead of me and another car passed us both then lost it
    and started fish-tailing and almost hit the car in front of me before
    he got it straight.

    In a few places I lost all traction and control briefly.  All I
    had going for me was forward momentum and steady nerves.  I had
    this mantra going in my head:  “steady on the gas, steer into the
    skid….”   I made it, no mishaps.

    Oddly, the temp up here was warmer than the lower end of the
    valley.  Our thermometer was reading just above freezing when I
    got here.  It hasn’t changed this morning.

    Doug was in bed and the fire was almost out when I got home.  He
    got up about the time I went to bed.  Despite having started
    nodding out over my book before I turned off the light, I had the usual
    fatigue-related trouble getting to sleep, and as usual my sleep was
    interrupted several times last night.  Now I have two weeks to
    recover before I do it again.  My next scheduled drive is
    Thanksgiving.

     

  • I wonder….

    Do you suppose that a strip of land that follows the courses of a major
    highway and a railroad for 470 miles, and along which 9/10 of a state’s
    population lives, qualifies as a “major metropolitan area?”  Well
    whether it does or not, the Alaskan Railbelt is now a Xanga
    Metro.  As of last night, it only had two Xanga members.  I
    wonder if there are any more of us on here who will join.

    I’m getting ready to head down that highway 50 miles, to keep my
    volunteer commitment to drive the van from the rehab center to
    tonight’s NA meeting.

    Greyfox’s blog yesterday mentioned how weirded out he gets when he does
    a past-life reading for a historical figure or famous person. 
    This morning I posted the reading that prompted that blog.  Its
    subject is the Pope of Xanga.  I hope this doesn’t cause her to get kidded unmercifully about that. 
    Okay, that’s facetious, but the reading is serious.  I just
    couldn’t resist a bit of levity.  Some comic relief helps
    sometimes.

  • and the story continues…

    After I posted the pic of Doug shoveling my car out, and sniveled about
    my being “no help at all,” I couldn’t stand it.  I fortified
    myself with a few hits of the bronchodilators because I was out of
    breath, then got into gloves, jacket and hat, and went out to do some
    light work.

    I brushed off the bits of snow he’d missed on the car as he shoveled
    the mass of it off.  I scraped all my windows and removed the
    packed stuff from around the windshield wipers and in the little recess
    with the broken latch on the cover, where the gas filler cap is. 
    Then I got a shovel and started getting it from under the edges of the
    car and around the wheels, while Doug worked on the berm the snowplow
    had left behind the car.

    That was the full width of our two-car driveway, six or seven feet
    across and two feet deep, hard packed heavy wet and dirty snow mixed
    with gravel.  He cleared enough of it for me to get the car out,
    and will need to clear the rest of the width of the driveway before we
    will be able to get another load of firewood, or to accomodate
    Greyfox’s car if he comes up for a visit.

    I was digging packed snow away from my right front wheel, and said to
    Doug, “Either this tire is flat, or it’s buried six inches in the
    ice.”  Then I kicked the tire.  It gave, and gave off the
    soft thump of a flat.  Darn!  That tire keep going flat
    summer and winter.  I’d thought that having the snow tires put on
    would fix the flat, but the problem must be a flaw in the rim or a
    right-front gremlin (and not the AMC kind, ’cause Streak is a Subie).

    When Doug finished up as much of that berm as needed to be done to let
    me out of the driveway, and went inside, I was getting out the little
    compressor that plugs into the lighter socket.  I took off my
    right glove to unscrew the valve cover and get it securely into my
    pocket, then clamped the air hose onto the tire valve.  When I got
    the glove back on and switched on the compressor, its built-in pressure
    gauge immediately read 80 PSI.  “That’s not right!” I thought, and
    hit the off switch.

    I took off the left glove to let that hand get cold for a change,
    unclamped the air hose, peered at it querulously, clamped it back on,
    put the glove back on and turned the switch back on.  That time,
    the damned gauge read 0 — goose egg, no pressure at all.  Okay,
    left it running and crawled into the back seat and dug my pressure
    gauge out of the box of tools and shit back there.

    Meanwhile the little compressor is putting and puffing and dancing
    around on the snow, doing its thing.  I took off a glove again,
    don’t recall which one that time (both hands were cold, it didn’t
    matter), turned off the compressor, unclamped the hose and checked the
    pressure.  The tire had gained 20 PSI while the compressor bounced
    around with its built-in gauge reading zero. 

    Knowing that the job was about halfway done, I hooked it all back up
    again and turned it on.  Voila!  That time the built-in
    gauge’s needle came up to twenty, agreeing with my other gauge, and
    rose steadily and (I hope) trustworthily, until the job was done. 
    Then I disconnected everything, shut off the engine and came in. 
    Doug was loading the woodstove in preparation to going to bed.

    That’s the next thing I’m going to do, I think.  I’ve posted a past-life reading Greyfox did, and have written and
    posted a new FAQ on KaiOaty, not on why the future is not set in stone
    or on why some readings turn out better than others, but on Letting Go,
    something many of us still on the path to perfection need to know how
    to do.  It was a productive day.  Tired, hungry, thirsty, but
    happy.  G’nite.

  • Carshoveling

    Doug
    is out front now, working in an icy drizzle.  Koji is in here,
    fool dog, barking at him as he shovels out my car for the trip into
    town tomorrow.

    A few degrees colder, and this accumulated snow pack will be icy-crusty
    with a layer of fresh stuff on top to be shoveled tomorrow.  A few
    degrees warmer, and we’ll have less of this snow to deal with.

    As this pic was saving to my hard drive, I heard the snow plow go past,
    so he’s probably finished clearing off the car and started working on
    the berm the plow threw up across the driveway.  He has been up
    all night, tending the fire and creating mayhem in SanAndreas. 
    His movements show fatigue, and he tells me his “aura is flat.”  I
    appreciate that kid so much!!

    The snow is deep, wet and heavy and he will need to go over to
    Elvenhurst soon to get it off the roof over there.  Despite five
    years of bringing over things bit by bit, and the burglars and vandals
    who have been through the place, there are still things we wouldn’t
    want to see buried under a collapsed roof.

     It is squalid, never anything other than that in the years we
    lived in it, but still the only home he’s had in his life until we move
    into this slightly less squalid place, and it was the first “home” I
    ever owned of my own.  Just seeing that trailer collapse under a
    load of snow, regardless of the books and memorabilia that would go
    with it, would be unpleasant.  He will shovel that roof, probably
    after he does this one again and the cabin beside this place, and until
    then we will keep hoping that he doesn’t get over there too late.

    I want to help.  I choked up with tears coming back from my trip
    out there with the camera, short of breath and unable to walk a
    straight line.  For a few years I did all the physical maintenance
    of our place, dug gardens with pick and shovel, carried water, 
    split and carried firewood until he was big enough to help.  Now
    I’m no help at all.  I did cook him a burger for his dinner when I
    got up today.  That’s something, I suppose.

  • I feel some FAQs coming on.

    Okay.  That’s not a good thing or a bad thing, or maybe it is
    both.  Such dualistic judgements are inappropriate, anyway.

    After I finished writing the first wave of FAQ pages for KaiOaty
    a year and a half ago, I felt a sense of anticlimax.  I thought,
    “this surely can’t be all.”    I assumed that if I went
    through my client files, the carbons (at first, on my old manual
    portable Hermes Rocket typewriter) and (later) duplicates I kept of the
    mail-order readings I’d done since 1987, I could find more general
    Cosmic Wisdom to post for the edification of All.  But poring
    through boxes of my past work held little appeal for me.  No,
    that’s inaccurate.  “Little appeal”???  Shit! 
    Abhorrence, repugnance… those words come closer. 

    Yeah.  Finding typos I’d missed fifteen years ago, rehashing the
    readings where the clients just didn’t get what I was saying, and the
    ones where I didn’t make that essential connection and couldn’t answer
    their questions, doesn’t sound like fun.  “Little appeal,”
    fershure!

    Yesterday, I did two readings.  The first, I felt, was okay,
    probably accurate, maybe helpful, but lackluster.  I’d have to go
    over there and look now to recall what I said and who I said it
    to.  Out of thousands I’ve done, I guess a small majority are like
    that.  I spread the cards or cast some other oracle and read
    it.  The reading falls together and seems clear enough to me, and
    I sense what the client is experiencing.  When I’m done I feel as
    if I’ve done an adequate job for the client even though it didn’t
    sparkle and sing.

    There are a few readings where it just doesn’t fall together, where I
    end up making a patchwork of it, doing a “cookbook” sort of
    reading.  Those are cases where I make no connection at all with
    the client.  I’m seeing the cards but feeling nothing, getting no
    sense of the client or her life and feelings.  I’m glad there are
    few of them, even though occasionally I’ll get feedback indicating that
    such a reading proved helpful to the client.  That, for me, is the
    primary value of the “tools” I use, the cards and crystals and other
    “oracles”.  When I fail to make a connection, sometimes the tools
    fill in that gap.

    If the majority of the work I did were of that sort, I’d have quit
    before I ever got into the professional phase of this work.  For
    me, those readings are frustrating.  For the clients… I
    dunno.  Some of them have said they were useful, but most of them
    never get back to me.  Even in cases of the readings that do
    sparkle and sing, many clients never get back to me.  The
    percentage of online readings that DO get feedback is higher than it was
    when I was working by mail, but there are still some clients who just
    don’t respond.

    And there are some who don’t respond for as long as three years,
    before writing back to me with thanks and payment for work well
    done.  I never know when I post a reading how the client will
    react.  Early on, I used to think sometimes that I knew,
    especially with the sparkly singing readings.  I’d have
    expectations of glowing responses to glowing readings.  Enough of
    those expectations were disappointed to have taught me the futility of
    expectations.

    Yesterday after posting the first reading I did other things.  I checked email and the comments at  KaiOaty
    where people leave their requests for readings.  I posted feedback
    to a few who required it, then I posted here on SuSu and read a few of
    your sites.  I have been keeping the posts at KaiOaty down to one
    per day, for several reasons.  I don’t really want this current
    backlog to get all used up and come to an end.  I want to have a
    continuing source of work.  Also, posting just once a day might
    ensure that each reading gets more attention.  I’m not sure about
    that, but anyway, I’ve not been working through that backlog as quickly
    as I could.

    Last night, I could have moved over to the PS2 after I finished up here
    and checked email again.  Instead, I had an urge to do another
    reading.  It turned out to be one of the sparkly shiny singing
    ones.  In trance I hooked up with the client’s Higher Self. 
    I felt the connection.  My fingers flew on the keys, automatic
    writing at its best.  Afterward as I read what I’d written, I was
    impressed.  I’m not easily impressed by this stuff, not after all
    these years.  It was good.

    I posted it, went to the client’s site and let her know it was done,
    then found a new “comment” posted by someone wanting a reading, someone
    who apparently didn’t read the FAQs and was asking a raft of
    inappropriate questions.  As I wrote a raft of explication and
    explanation to her, I thought of two more topics for FAQ pages, one on
    why the future is not predictable, and another on why some readings are better than others.  There are bits of this post that will serve as a first draft for that latter FAQ. 

    I’m not kidding myself that the former FAQ will have any great impact
    on future clients who might present me with further rafts of “what will
    happen” questions.  There is a category of people who don’t read
    the FAQs.  When I created KaiOaty’s site, I set up a wicked little
    trail designed to channel the clueless ones around in a big circle
    ending in a semi-insulting sort-of “pay attention” page and then a
    truly insulting, sarcastically amusing “you aren’t paying attention”
    page, with sly jokes concealed within the obvious jokes.  The joke
    was on me.  Clueless people are clueless because they don’t look
    for clues.  No matter how I present my point some of those people
    are not going to get it.

    Originally, I had viewed my system as a screening device to weed out
    the clueless and to give answers to common questions to genuine seekers
    who didn’t really need readings.  If the feedback I’ve received is
    an accurate gauge of its success, it has turned out merely to be a
    source of wry amusement to a few curious people who clicked the
    obviously wrong choices and found my wicked pages.  I can live
    with that.  I can because the alternative is unattractive.

    Meanwhile I’ll be writing a couple of new FAQ pages which will probably
    never be seen by the people who need them the most.  It appears
    that I will also be doing the screening that my little system was
    designed to do, on a personal case-by-case basis for the people who
    refuse to read the FAQ.  I, at least, have gotten that point.

  • UPDATED around 5PM
    and updated again after dark–Scroll down

    It’s snowing again.

    I mean REALLY snowing.

    A couple of hours ago, I took this pic.

    I had felt a bit down when I looked out and saw snow falling — flying,
    really, blowing on the wind.  I didn’t even feel like suiting up
    and going out to take pics, so I shot this one through the glass in the
    front door.  That accumulation on the cabin roof includes what was
    there already for the entire season, plus about two or three inches of
    new stuff from today.

    I was going to post that, and then when I read my email and decided to
    write about the astrology for this upcoming new moon — and then got
    into that impromptu political rant — the snow pic slipped my mind.

    The next time I looked out, if anything it was even windier. 
    There was certainly more snow accumulated.  So, I suited up that
    time and went out there.

    This is what I stepped into on the porch.  That had been cleared of snow before this latest snowfall.

    I’ve always thought snow was beautiful.  It’s so clean and white,
    covers up so much crap and clutter.  But it surely does take the
    color out of a scene, too.

    This should give you an idea of how much new stuff has fallen
    today.  Doug had cleared off the front portion of my car’s hood,
    as the first step in brushing off the whole car and shoveling out
    around it so I can go to town on Thursday.  This is my week to
    drive the rehab center’s van to the NA meeting.  So everything on
    the front part there is new snow, and the stuff that’s piled up farther
    back is what has fallen in the week and a half since I parked the car
    after my last trip to town.

    In this next shot you can get an idea of the drifting that’s occuring
    because of the wind.  It’s piling up in the lee of the car and the
    garbage cans.

    The snow on top of the cabin appears to be about twice as deep as it was when I took the first pic around noon or so.

    I wonder where all that moisture is coming from.  Could be we’re
    catching the tail of a typhoon or something.  I haven’t been
    watching the weather maps.

    I hope the snowplow comes through before I want to leave for town, and
    that Doug will get the berm the plow leaves across the driveway, and
    the rest of the driveway shoveled.  He will probably be working in
    the dark, since he has been sleeping through all the daylight hours
    lately.

    Update, just before dark–

    Still snowing, still blowing, deeper and deeper….

    By around 7:30, it wasn’t snowing as much and the wind had stopped, but there were still flakes coming down.

    By porchlight, you can see that the snow on top of the cabin is deeper.

    My husky loves to play in the snow.

  • I’m picking up on a lot of sentiment in favor of getting out of the
    U.S. since the election went south.  I’m even told that when the
    returns came in, the Canadian immigration website crashed from
    heavy traffic.

    Can you imagine anything that would make the Halliburton Cabal in DC
    happier, now that they have four more years to rape the country and the
    planet, than to see their opposition fleeing?

    Is retreat or suicide
    really the best response to tyranny and aggression?  Stand and
    fight!  America needs all the help it can get, now more than ever.

    But that’s not what I planned to blog about.  It just came out
    spontaneously.  I suppose if I gave it too much thought I might be
    afraid to come right out and say it. [ not bloody likely, but...]  Y’never know who’s watching.


    CelestialWeather

    Here’s some of what Rich Humbert had to say about this week:

    If planets
    had political leanings, Saturn would be the conservative and Uranus would be
    the progressive.  Saturn understands the power of time, responsibility,
    and order.  Uranus understands that times change, there are varying and
    often conflicting responsibilities, and that order can degenerate into
    crystallization and morbidity.  They are natural antagonists and
    act together in life to form useful structures and limits (Saturn) and then
    break out of those same structures and limits (Uranus) when they’ve outlived
    their purpose. This week both Saturn and Uranus are standing still above us,
    and the energies they symbolize are at extremely high levels.  We live
    in times when the traditional values of local communities are under
    unrelenting pressure from a shrinking world.  Small town dwellers know
    they enjoy a shrinking commodity: the sense of safety and comfort that comes
    from belonging and knowing one’s neighbors.  Long established urban
    neighborhoods share the same experience. But the dynamic nature of global
    economics and the digital age are eroding these small fortresses.  Many
    people are frightened by the anonymity and alienation of modern electro-cool
    world culture.  Something of value is being taken away, and new forms of
    community aren’t ready to replace this value.

    So amid the cultural
    conflict washing over us this week, as suggested by Saturn and Uranus
    immobile, we have a Scorpio New Moon that comes Friday. (http://www.celestialweather.com/images/110704.jpg)
    Scorpio is about commitment and passion, and the New Moon is our annual
    opportunity to re-dedicate ourselves to that which matters most.  All
    the signs have a special planet that operates as the energy source for the
    sign; this special planet is called the “ruler” of the sign.  The ruler
    of Scorpio is Pluto, lord of death and metamorphosis.  For the past few
    years, Pluto has been passing through Sagittarius, a sign which expresses the
    human experience of shared cultural values like religion, ethics, and
    law.  So we find people all over the world bringing the life and death
    struggle of Scorpio to religion: we find ourselves in culture wars.  The
    U.S. New Moon horoscope puts Pluto at 9 o’clock just rising up and exactly
    one sign away from the New Moon itself.
    This area of the horoscope is
    considered “karmic” because it represents consequences and outside forces
    impinging upon us as individuals.

    The 21st degree of Scorpio, the New
    Moon degree, bears the symbol of a soldier obeying his conscience and
    resisting orders.  Taken to extreme this leads to anarchy, but it
    suggests that we take this time to listen to our inner voice, a totally New
    Moon activity, and resist the external order that we find incorrect. 
    One can easily see the fundamentalist vs. relativist issue in
    this symbol.  Do we march onward as Christian or Muslim soldiers, or do
    we obey the divine spark within us?  Blind obedience is the other
    extreme, “1984″ style, and is equally as repugnant as chaos.  In times
    of powerful and often incomprehensible change, people want something
    stable.  The more powerful the
    change and the more it’s in our faces,
    the more we’re frightened and the more we cling.

    Anyone interested can find more at Rich’s website, linked above.

    I suppose this upcoming moon, culminating in the Full Moon a little
    over two weeks from now, will be an interesting one for me, what with Saturn
    and Uranus being stationary.  Uranus was stationary at my birth
    and is therefore a prominent influence in my chart and my life. 
    Besides that, stationary Saturn, along with transiting Mercury,
    Jupiter, and Neptune, are all aspecting my “intensity pattern”,
    throwing mixed curses and blessings my way.  Neptune, Mercury,
    Jupiter and Uranus — I not only can handle but I welcome such
    influences.  Only as I’ve aged have I gotten even a little bit
    closer to appreciating Saturnian heaviness and restrictions.  With
    such a diverse set of influences, I guess I will just wait and see what
    they bring.  I’ll try to ride the wave, whatever it is.