My Brush With The Po-Leece

Here's my partner in crime! Trusty and I were heading home from an exciting visit to Tractor Supply where we had invested in several bags of special Equine Senior Horse Chow (formulated for those elders with few teeth and in need of a bit more fat- Maggie's department). We were tooling along, well within the speed limit and minding our driving p's and q's. We had passed under the highway underpass- a mere mile or so from home- when I espied a police car directly behind me. "Well", I thought, I'll just make sure I continue forward in an orderly and innocuous manner and thank dog we're almost home!"

But no sooner than I had made an impeccable right hand turn onto our lovely road, then the bells and whistles erupt on said police car. I've been pulled over... I hurriedly pull on my mask and rolled my window down, attempting a pleasant and vacuous smile behind my mask. "Yes Officer?" I inquire politely. The woman officer (who looks to be about fifteen years old) responds, "I bet your wondering why you've been pulled over. Your registration has expired." I demure, "But that is simply impossible! I've passed emissions just this past spring and I know I renewed my registration!!" Meanwhile, I fumble in the glove compartment, out of which is spilling insurance cards and salt and peppers from take out food and kleenex... and the envelope with my registration. I triumphantly pull it out and realize she's right (of course!) and my car's registration has expired not just in December of 2021 but December of 2020... how is this possible!!?!??!?!!? Now I feel like a crazy person.

"It must be COVID time!" I exclaim. "We haven't been driving much and gee, the paper work must have gotten lost!" She was kind enough to reply, "It happens" and let me off with a warning and a quite jolly, "I know you're going to go home and re-register your car right now!" Which I most certainly did.

And found out that Bob's truck hadn't been registered since 2019!! Hahhahhahaha!! Whoops! And how did we not get in trouble from that? We've driven to New York- where if you recall, we broke down and were towed and a policeman gave us a ride. HE could have ticketed us if he'd run our plates! We've also transported Bob's sculpture to Vermont on several occasions and never got flagged for expired registration. I guess we've been very lucky. 

Don't worry: we're all 100% legal now. It was a relative bargain, too. Only a $10 late fee (and the weird other fees they tack on like something called a park use fee...) and the original cost and we're good.

And here's a preview of fun to come! Bomb Cyclone a'comin! Get out those snow shovels and blowers! Batten the hatches and stock up on milk and toilet paper... and bread!!
 

Weather or Not

 

Nothing "candy ass" about the weather! Ay ca-rumba! One day it's 50 degrees and sunny, the next day it's 10 degrees with a wind chill of minus 5... then we get snow. Then we get weird rain and now we have three inches of soon-to-be frozen slop. I'm not looking forward to tomorrow when I try and venture out to feed the poor horses who have been struggling to remain upright on ice. Maggie went and cut her leg on something sharp (while eating her breakfast?) and her paddock looked like a crime scene. I was going to photograph it but even I demurred; too gruesome! I washed her leg off, and despite her protestations, treated her wound with Vetericyn and bandaged it. It seemed fine by this afternoon, no more bloody snow!

So at least the evil weather has proven to be fertile time for me to get into my studio and make art. Incidentally, it was so cold for three days that I didn't even attempt to make a fire in the wood stove in my studio. I worked- like old times!- in the living room. Today, I was back in the studio, cutting out letters for a new piece. Betcha wonder what this one is going to say?!?!?! You'll just have to wait until I decide to share my newest "words of the day". 

Here's a detail. Yes, all of those tiny dots are individual seed beads, hand sewn on. I was referencing that weird (to my mind anyway!) candy that came on strips of paper. It always had bits of paper stuck to the back of the individual dots and I can't for the life of me remember it tasting like anything at all. But some friends have confessed to LIKING that candy. Go figure!

And little did I know that there is a queer, Jewish, male artist named Cary Liebowitz who goes by the name "Candy Ass". And he and I have a lot in common when you look at his work: he uses text- often scrawled in a awkward, hand written sort of way, he uses profanity (who me?!?), references the art world ... and he's funny. Check it out! Anyway, I knew nothing about him until a friend mentioned him to me on Instagram. You learn something every day!
 

                                               

 I decided to do my Candy Ass piece because my good friend Wasil often used this phrase to refer to stupid, clumsy or weak things or people. (He doesn't recall using this phrase but where the hell would I come up with it??!?!) I am dedicating this piece to Wasil... he's not candy ass at all!!

 

House-aversary!

 

Hard to believe, but we moved into the architectural gem 12 full years ago! We are starting our 13th year of occupation of the Bauhaus Chicken Coop. And what a dozen years it's been! For one thing, there was a "good"  three feet of snow on the ground at the time of our closing (*1) and moving was a long, strange trip.  But despite the arduous (at times) journey, we made it and we made this place our home.

And I must say, despite a crazy world and COVID and all sorts of bizarre-o things neither Bob nor myself could have predicted, we mostly stayed (sorta) sane and are happy. Looking at this picture that I snapped this morning, I'm seeing so many of the projects that we tackled- and accomplished. My studio (to the right in the photo), the terrace (well, blocked by the picnic table) and the chimney we constructed to allow installation of the wood stove. And that's just the visible projects! We've got extensive gardens, fences galore, two (!!) horses, and a new giant screen (*2) TV!!

Yes, that's Rachel Maddow interviewing a former New York District attorney- in our bedroom. Those two rectangle to right and left are our bedroom windows so you can see just how large this sucker is. Bob and I keep reciting, "They're so big! They're life-size!" I guess the TV will provide company and excitement in the cold, dark days of winter ahead. (*3)

And congratulations to us! Bob and me! on 12 full years of home ownership and house occupation.

(*1) And this year? It was 55 degrees the last couple of days, absolutely no snow and Bob just harvested Swiss chard and Tatsoi from our garden?!?!?!?!? How's that for a bit of personal Climate Change observation?

(*2) Hell! It's gianter than I even thought... like BIG! Kinda scary, but fun!

(*3) Hahhahaha! Lest anyone thing we just took the TV out of the box, threw it up on the wall, turned it on, synced it with our "devices" and began watching... no. We started yesterday afternoon; Bob successfully wall-mounted the monster and then we encountered "issues". Like logging into Google accounts we rarely use, password conundrums and the like. I begged off after realizing that my brain had stopped working (*4) I was beginning to moan in a pitiful fashion. This morning, fortified by bagels and coffee and a tea chaser, we (somehow) managed to log on and watch TV. Success was ours!

(*4) I attempted to help Bob after a particularly strenuous riding lesson in which my instructor confused me so badly about turning left and right that I was almost punch drunk. My poor horse thinks I'm stupid and I'm surprised my instructor didn't throw her hands in the air and leave. She did threaten to spray paint a large L and R on poor Neko's shoulders... You gotta love it when someone's in the middle of the ring yelling, "Where are you GOING??!?!?" and you honestly thought you'd gone the right way... alas!

The End is Here!!

 

Well, the end of the year, not to be too melodramatic! And good-bye 2021!!

Sorry but maybe it IS the end of civilization as we have known it. I attempted to buy Bob a new TV for Christmas. Here's our old TV: 

Probably a lovely set in it's day but it's got a gigantic back that sticks out a good 18" and it doesn't have a very large picture area. It's old! And the modem that we require to allow the TV to "talk" to the dvd player needs a firm whack every few minutes to keep it running. (*1) We decided we needed a new TV.

 So I purchased what looked to me to be a huge step up; like 32" (diagonal) screen. And in all fairness, I'd done a ton of research and determined the brand and approximate size but was utterly intimidated and bowled over by all the enormous screens on view at the store. I felt like I'd crawled out from under a rock. I quickly selected my 32" set and fled the store.

I presented it to Bob on Christmas and we were both excited at the prospect of watching TV while lying in bed and feeling all luxurious and up-to-date. But somehow, I had misgivings when we brought the TV upstairs. It looked less huge; in fact, I thought it looked small. We debated for a while and finally agreed. We'd go one size up.

(Another consideration is this lovely sculpture that resides on top of the TV cabinet. The cabinet needs to accommodate TV and sculpture. Then we to arrived at wall mounting the TV and put the sculpture on another surface...)

So we went to the store- for us a still unusual excursion as COVID has kept us close to home and away from "the public"- and return the new but too small TV. We scouted the rear of the big box store, found the bigger TVs and instead of the 40", I see Bob's eyes go wide and he says, "That's the perfect size!" pointing at a 43" model. So we truly did graduate from old set to 32" all the way up to 43". (*2) The punchline is that they had two of these behemoths in stock, but the boxes were water damaged and we didn't want to take a chance on a defective TV and another return trip. I finally ordered the 43" on-line.

So we're awaiting delivery of the new member of our household. I alluded to the end being near and part of me is afraid of the novelty of a giant screen. Will it become so seductive as to reduce the time we spend reading? Will we become "like everyone else", glued to a huge screen and watching endless hours of mindless dreck? I fear for our future! Oh well, welcome to 2022!

(*1) We tried to purchase a new modem-thing and were laughed out of BestBuy and WalMart. How's that for humiliation?!? 

(*2) And yes, there are far gigantic-er tVs out there. 65", 75"... we'd have to get a bigger wall to make space for these "home theaters". And neither one of us wants our lives dominated by a TV that big!

 

Living the Life Historical

 

The other day, while out gleaning the field of horse poop, it dawned on me that I could be a peasant from any time in history. Essentially my activity- and even my garb- could have been from two, three, four (or more) hundred years ago. I asked Bob to document me in all my earthy glory. And it confirmed what I feared: I make a pretty good peasant.

A case in point. Same pitchfork (well, mine is plastic and came from tractor Supply. She probably made hers!), same basic stance, similar head gear (but her ground length skirt is fetching!)... you get the idea. I probably staggered off to lunch on the same moldy potatoes as her!

This is a painting by Kazimir Malevich entitled something like "Peasant Out in the Field" I don't know where his pitchfork went, but he's got that same attitude as me and the romanticized peasant in the above painting or even this woman with a wheelbarrow by Millet. Notice how our "technology" hasn't changed!

(She's probably praying that she smells better than I do when I'm done collecting manure!) I rest my case. I could be whisked back in time in some accident created by a tesseract! Why, I'd fit right in! Further oddball illustration is the below picture sent to me by my sister Cathy (Hi Cathy!). It purports to be a photo promoting vacationing in Estonia- one 1/2 of our family background. I'd look at home among these fine folks, too!

Satan's Pony

Doesn't Neko just look the picture of innocence all sleepy in the morning sun? Isn't she sweet? Isn't she just the bestest little pony? Ha! Don't let her fool you for one minute. Neko has been busy devising devious plots and dastardly deeds!

The other day, at around 6:30 when it's still dark, I go to feed the horses. Usually there are two semi-visible silhouettes near the top of the field, eagerly awaiting their slops 'n' grub. This morning, I'm seeing Maggie and I think, "Oh, Neko must be in the barn or lower down in the field".  But as I round the barn, I see Neko and it takes a minute for me to decipher why she looks odd. Then I realize she's on the wrong side of the fence!

She herself seems a tad confused or embarrassed (yes, I'm anthropomorphizing) and follows me through the side gate, docile and hungry. I know now that this is not the first time she has escaped; last week, Bob announced that there were piles of horse poop behind his studio. I said, "Nay; it cannot be our horses. They're both present and accounted for"... which they were. A careful tour of the fence perimeter showed no signs of having been pulled down so we came to the conclusion that someone else's horse must have gotten loose and come to visit Maggie and Neko. But having found her on the wrong side of the fence, I now know better.

Neko's like, "Whaddyou lookin' at?" It still remains quite a mystery how she got herself through the ELECTRIC fence- unscathed- and back inside (last week). I realize poor Neko is certain she's starving to death and must escape from our evil pasture to find sufficient forage, but she really is a Houdini. She had no scrapes, no damage to her person, did not disrupt the fence. The fact that she got herself back in; I just don't know how she did it.

Hopefully, she will be unable to duplicate her recent nightly escapades as I ran out to Home Depot and secured a bundle of fiberglass poles and reinforced the fence line. (Like I really felt like doing this... I was hoping to go for a ride that afternoon.) She came to the bottom of the field and watched me insert the new poles, as I lectured her about her perfidy. I wish she were contrite!

Later that same day, I caught her with her big fat head pushed sideways, between the mesh fence and the hot electric line, bending another section of fence down so as to snack on the other side. Bob and I are in the process of replacing this fence line, as it is old and rusty. But now we're required to double up on the electric line. Ah! The joys of horse ownership!

First Blood

 

It was going to happen some day; Robin actually caught- and killed!- an animal. Robin chases everything: squirrels, birds, leaves, shadows... seemingly she is a born hunter. (*1) But despite many heroic attempts at catching anything, it has taken Robin almost six years to achieve the status of Official Hunter.

She had been pursuing the above rodent (a shrew.. similar to mice and moles and voles) for several days. It apparently lived in the patch of lirope beneath the Tiger Eye Sumac. Certainly, it attracted her attention whenever she was in the vicinity. 

She finally nailed it one day last week and proceeded to "play" with it and one last toss in the air dispatched it to the Great Shew Beyond. (*2) However, once it was dead, a look of anguish seemed to cross her face. She sat and stared at it and all I can say is she seemed to experience some sort of existential remorse. Bob noticed this, too. (*3) Robin was no doubt analyzing the impermanence of life and considering what happens "afterwards". It affected her profoundly!

This is how Robin typically hunts. She up ends her toy box- which need frequent replacement as she chews the box apart as sport- and selects one toy to terrorize. (By the way, she totally ignores that pink camouflage alien in the front of the picture. Not sure why) She then shakes it and tosses it and eviscerates it.

Look at that face! You would never know that I had just spent twenty minutes performing surgery on this poor thing. Robin promptly pulled it's nose off, stuffing every where! I don't think she experiences and remorse about "killing" stuffed animals. I'm sure she knows the difference.

Although who knows? Maybe now that our little angel has tasted blood, and contemplated the loss of life, she'll reconsider her approach to hunting artificial game. She does look a bit contrite in the picture above...

(*1) And you would expect this as both her parents were field hunting dogs. You will perhaps recall that her mother, Chloe, was a Long Haired Weimaraner and her father, Gunnar, was a Llewellyn English Setter. 

(*2) I'm really glad she killed it as our previous dog Ricky used catch things but never figured out how to kill them. I followed her around with a shovel, finishing off what she had started. It was not the most fun I've ever had!

(*3) Yes, I know: many will find it anthropomorphizing and "inappropriate" to assign "human" emotions to dogs, but believe me, Robin the Good seemed bummed and confused.