Rufus and I... Likin' Those Walks!

For the past couple of weeks, the Rufster and I have been walking three or four times a week, about 45 minutes each outing. We've gotten acquainted with some new micro-neighborhoods near our house, but once in a while have driven a little ways to find new views (and new sniffs.) Here are some photos I've taken along the way. If this were a scratch-n-sniff blog, Rufus would've been happy to share his impressions, too. Woof! (In case you can't make it out, that first photo is of branches with lichen. You know -- liking -- likin')?

Review: The Widow's Season

If you ask, I'll tell you that I don't read suspense. Nor do I read romance, sci-fi, or stories that don't fit well within my moral boundaries. But if a book really grabs me, those preferences go out the window for the sake of the story.

The Widow's Season by Laura Brodie caught my eye with its beautiful cover and intriguing title. The main character is Sarah, a recently-widowed woman still in the prime of her life. Her hopes and expectations were brought to a crashing halt when her husband came up missing from a solo kayaking trip. Although she wouldn't have said that she defined herself by her marriage, she did. Her inability to bear a child was a burden that weighed heavily on that relationship. Sarah and her husband, though close, were each dealing with the loss of a dream family.

When Sarah begins to see her husband at odd moments -- at the end of an aisle in the supermarket, walking down the hall past her bedroom -- the story takes an eerie turn. Is it a ghost? Is it David, in the flesh, returning after faking his own death? Or is it all Sarah's imagination, a subconscious reckoning with her losses?

There are a couple of places where Sarah's moral choices caused tension for me, but also for her. What if... What if her husband had been so traumatized by his accident that he let the world think he had died? What if his grief over the loss of a dream and the mundaneness of his life caused him to seek a new existence? What if, in her loneliness, Sarah turned to David's brother for substitutionary consolation? Until one has been tempted in such an awful new way, the responses are beyond imagining.

I would encourage you to read this book, not because you'll like it, but because you'll experience it. Ms. Brodie paints intimate pictures of the soul.

International Talk Like a Pirate Day!

Preparing for tomorrow's festivities, mateys, here's my pirate-ality test result:

You are The Quartermaster

You, me hearty, are a man or woman of action! And what action it is! Gruesome,
awful, delightful action. You mete out punishment to friend and foe alike
– well, mostly to foe, because your burning inner rage isn’t
likely to draw you a whole lot of the former. Still, though you may be
what today is called “high maintenance” and in the past was
called “bat-guano crazy,” the crew likes to have you around
because in a pinch your maniacal combat prowess may be the only thing
that saves them from Jack Ketch. When not in a pinch, the rest of the
crew will goad you into berserker mode because it’s just kind of
fun to watch. So you provide a double service – doling out discipline
AND entertainment.

What's Yer Inner Pirate?
brought to you by The Official Talk Like A Pirate Web Site. Arrrrr!

Day of Caring 2009

Every year, my employer offers an opportunity for us to get out into the community and do a one-day service project. Also every year, a friend who works for a state agency invites me to join her for a day of outdoor recreation. Finally, finally, because both of these worlds converged, I had to say yes.

The Department of Services for the Blind, specifically the Orientation and Training Center in Seattle, provides a variety of learning experiences for people who are blind and visually impaired. Their curriculum includes outdoor "challenge" activities such as hiking, biking, skiing, boating, rock climbing, and riding the city bus. (Oops -- strike that last item. It belongs in another section of the course.)

I've been around a lot of people who are blind and visually impaired. It has been my great privilege to participate as a student at three week-long conferences of the Lutheran Blind Mission. While each of those weeks involved a small group of 25 folks, I was the only sighted student. Those times were fantastic immersion experiences. Since then, I've attended two conventions of the Washington Council of the Blind, with somewhere over 250 attendees. People have told me I'm an excellent sighted guide, and that I come across as a very trustworthy sighted person. For all these things, I am grateful.

Although I was introduced at the Day of Caring activity as a member of the WCB and someone knowledgeable about the blindness community, I was reticent to appear as an expert. I wanted to watch and learn, and also help. What I was most curious about was how this group of sighted volunteers would be trained as guides, how confident they'd feel about guiding, and how the interactions would progress.

I'm very pleased to say that everything went swimmingly! The volunteers plunged into their assignments, the students from the OTC teamed up with their guides, and the activities began. The guides weren't overly hesitant, and it probably helped that there were clear expectations and a schedule for the day. I heard from the OTC students and staff how much they enjoyed everything and how pleasantly surprised some of them were because they had fun. I didn't get to talk with my library colleagues, but I suspect they would have said much the same thing. And it was fun.

One student freely stated that she had had no intention of getting on any kind of bicycle contraption that day. But, when the time came, she wasn't exactly given a choice, and she climbed aboard. Her guide was very steady and quiet, she said, until she finally gave up and let herself relax a bit. At that point, her partner began to give bits of commentary on what he was seeing. The longer they rode, the more she enjoyed it! In fact, when lunch was delayed, she was the first to ask to take one more ride before eating.

As I continue to craft fiction, my goal is to peel back layers of misconceptions regarding people who are visually impaired. It would be wonderful to write a novel that would promote understanding and discussion between the sighted and blind communities. There's a lot that the sighted folks just don't see, so to speak.

And with that, I'll get back to work editing my novel-in-progress. Thanks for reading.

How to Knit... and watch football... but mostly, knit

Friday was a beautiful day for football, and the pace of the game allowed me to think about taking a few photos. For all you non-football readers out there, here are some pointers for paying attention without having to actually watch the whole game.

First, in early autumn, there may be some glorious sunsets shortly after kickoff. In our home stadium, the home crowd faces west and I've included a photo last year of the treetops against the night sky. This week's game was in another town, where it's the visitors who face west. There was a lovely sunset last night, and just after I took this shot the team doc came up to comment on the view. See, not everyone is watching every nanosecond of action on the field!

Speaking of the team doc (he's actually a physical therapist with a specialty in sports medicine), he didn't have to be too busy this week. Thank goodness. When an injury happens, the players show respect and the crowd gets quiet. If you look up from your knitting and see players on the sideline doing this, you might say something like, "Is it his knee?" Hopefully that's all it is, and in a few seconds he'll be helped off the field to a shower of applause. This would be a good time to refrain from other conversation, however.

Injuries can be scary, and for this reason it may be difficult for tender-hearted people to watch every crashing tackle. Knitting is a handy and productive distraction. You can also claim that you're too nervous about the outcome and it helps to keep your hands busy. That makes it sound like you're really into the game.

When a team is really close to scoring, way down at the end of the field, the orange down markers are not needed. If you glance up and see the teams playing at one end of the field, check out the "sticks". When these orange padded poles are cast aside on the turf, stop knitting and watch the game for a minute. Something exciting might happen, one way or the other.

That's enough about football for one post. While waiting for the game to start, I learned about a cool device for knitting the cable stitch. It's a short double-ended needle with a kink in the middle, and you use it to hold stitches and then transfer them back into your cable work. Very cool! I think my mom used a straight double-ended needle or something like a blunt safety pin.

First Football Game of the Season!

That's the press box atop the home side of our local stadium. See the rainbow? Only those of us on the visitor side got to enjoy it. It had been raining a good part of the afternoon, but shortly before game time we saw this and then it stopped raining. Yeah!

I appreciate rainless football games only because I keep the score book. When it rains, the paper gets wet and I can't write on it. Therefore, when the weather's wet, I have to go up in the stands or in the press box. There are some very nice people up there, but I miss the sidelines. Sometimes I get distracted by watching the nice people instead of focusing on the game. Bad, very bad.

Tonight's game was a blowout. It felt weird to be there, since the teachers' strike has delayed the start of school. The home team's band director was conspicuously absent, but the band played on. The coaches were all there, because they're on extra-duty contracts unrelated to the dispute.

It'll be nice to get everyone back in school, but I hope there's a little meaning to that rainbow. I'm hoping for a happy ending so we can have a good beginning.

Still Ticking

Hi, folks... er, "folk" might be more appropriate. Radio broadcasters are encouraged to speak as though they're talking to just one person out there across the waves. I should write as though to one person -- not only because you are reading this by yourself, but because there aren't too many of you anyway.

I enjoy checking my stats on Site Meter. It's nice to know that someone has stopped in to check out the dog's blog, and it's interesting to see where they're from and what search brought them here. I've had many hits on a post about Air Force One, but the hits were for a photo illustration that I've since replaced. Another page that gets looked at is titled Difficult Instructions, and I wonder what people were seeking when they clicked on that one.

I'm headed for work in a few minutes, but wanted to let you know that I'm still here, still thinking about writing, and still working on random thoughts of great and silly nature. Football starts this week, and I hope to have a story about our first game. Thanks for reading. Rufus appreciates the support, although he'd prefer a walk.

Growing on My Knees

I arrived early for a meeting one day, and took a 20-minute walk in the neighborhood. These are a couple of sights I considered to be noteworthy.

The apple tree was one of four in a row, probably from an old homesite. Although the wind knocked it over, it was determined to keep growing, to keep bearing fruit. Even on its knees.

It would be easy to make a kind of schmaltzy comparison to prayer, as if I could assume the position of appeal and be guaranteed growth and help. That tree, however, didn't voluntarily fall down to ask God's favor. Instead, it was pushed down to a place of disadvantage, and kept doing what was required of it.

As long as I have breath, I will praise and pray to the God who sustains me.

"I Trust Her."

The plan today was to go to a picnic, socialize, play a game, eat too much, and go home. All of those things happened, but there were a few additional details.

The picnic is an annual get-together of three local groups of people who are blind and visually impaired. I'm not good at guessing numbers, but I'd say there were close to a hundred folks in attendance. I'm a member of one of the chapters, and was looking forward to getting better acquainted with a few more people today. I had also invited a guest.

Shortly after our arrival, one of my acquaintances asked if I could help her run an errand. She had arranged for some song sheets to be printed in large print and Braille, and they were ready for her to pick up... at the downtown Seattle Public Library. "Well, okay," I said. "But you'll have to tell me how to get there."

This gal -- I'll call her Hostess -- works in Seattle and is very familiar with the bus routes and streets of the city. I rarely go into Seattle except to visit two or three specific places. The traffic (and my tremendous ignorance) makes me nervous, as I assume that everyone else knows exactly where they're going and I'm only in their way. But as I said, Hostess knows her way around, and she promised to tell me where to go. Since Guest didn't know anyone else at the picnic, she came with us.

When we left the picnic area, it made me a wee bit concerned when she said to head south instead of north. But, I knew we had to get over a hill and to the freeway, so I followed Hostess's instructions and soon saw the freeway. Traffic got bad, but we inched our way downtown. Once, we made a wrong turn and had to backtrack, but then were right on target.

"There's a passenger drop-off just up here by the door," Hostess told me. "If you leave your flashers on, you can wait here."

"Sounds good," I replied. "If I have to move, I'll circle the block and come back here to meet you."

Simple, right? She got me where we needed to be, and all that Guest and I had to do was wait.

And wait.

And... wait.

Honestly, I didn't look at my watch once, but I think we waited more than an hour. Seriously. No one came to tow my car or give me a ticket, so I kept my emergency flashers on and waited. This is the interesting part of the story.

Since we had been led to believe that this was a simple errand, Guest and I both assumed that Hostess would be gone about ten minutes. When we'd been there for half an hour, Guest began to wonder aloud what was wrong. Now, I don't know Guest well enough to know if she was serious, but she asked me if I thought Hostess had had a medical emergency. I thought that was kind of far-fetched, but it could happen. Since I hadn't heard any sirens, I assured Guest that our friend was probably fine. Then Guest worried that Hostess had gotten lost or gone out another door or had gotten distracted and forgot we were waiting for her. Guest even suggested that we should go look for her to see what was the matter. She was serious, and that's when I finally got perturbed.

"Guest, none of those things have happened. I trust Hostess, and she would not forget us or get distracted. She knows this city and this library much better than I do, so she's not lost. If we park the car somewhere to go look for her, I don't know where to begin looking. Maybe the person who was giving her the papers is busy, or maybe the papers got moved and they're trying to find them. But I trust Hostess, and she'll be back."

People think I'm patient. Maybe I am, but mostly it's just that I don't take ownership of problems that aren't my own. Sure, we were missing the picnic, but there was a good reason for it. Maybe those song sheets were important, maybe not, but that wasn't my decision. As we waited and waited in the car, I pondered the little building blocks that had led me to trust Hostess and make this trip:

* Hostess is very bright and asks insightful questions. She thinks about the big picture and is able to analyze information quickly.
* Hostess had a hand in planning this picnic. She would not do anything to distract from the social networking purposes of the gathering.
* Hostess is fully capable of getting wherever she needs to go, and has obviously been to this library before. If she needed any assistance, she would ask.

Therefore, since there was nothing I could do to help or speed things up, my job was to wait. Calmly.

Sure enough, when Hostess came out of the building with Librarian in tow, she was full of apologies for the time it had taken. They'd had multiple printer problems (bad codes, ran out of toner, etc.) and they'd been scrambling to try to get the job done despite all those obstacles. Being patient and calm was the best course of action, and that's all I was responsible to do, except for driving the car.

Maybe I should have titled this post, "Minding My Own Business." That's one of the lessons I've been learning, but I hadn't expected it to be reinforced today.


P.S. Do I need to point out that the person who was guiding me happens to be visually impaired and has never driven a car? And I trust her.

How Do You Spell Safety?

As the Safety Captain* of my library, I take every opportunity to investigate safety, er, opportunities. Why, just last week I was meeting with some other Safety Captains to discuss safety in our branches. As we talked about the importance of knowing that the emergency exit alarms are fully charged (they make a very shrill noise when opened), I began to investigate the little red fire alarm box next to me. Perhaps you've seen older alarms which require the breaking of glass to pull the alarm? This new-fangled alarm box has a nifty Plexiglas cover that you lift in order to access the alarm. Nice. But is the cover latched, or does it open easily? How simple would it be to figure out what to do in an emergency situation? This is what I wondered.

Did you know that the Plexiglas cover over little red fire alarm boxes are armed? When a person lifts that cover, a very shrill noise startles one's fellow Safety Captains, causing them to move immediately AWAY from the person who opened the Plexiglas cover. Yep.

Fast-forward to this afternoon. My brother and sister-in-law are here from the Midwest, and we took a nice little jaunt on a cute little ferry to Vashon Island. Ever vigilant, I...

No, I did not attempt to open any fire alarm covers. But I did take an interest in the instructions for the ferry's fire suppression system. The first step in dealing with a fire? Vacate the area! Get away! Go someplace safe! After that, work on putting out the flames.

It wasn't until I downloaded these photos that I really looked at the headline sign. Maybe spelling isn't terribly important when your first instruction is to get away from the fire. No one will stand there long enough to see that you didn't run the spellcheck before you made your pretty red sign. CO2 RELAESE -- a technical word, I'm sure.


*Not my official title, but the one to which I aspire.