The Native Iowan

I am going to take stand here. A stand that will undoubtedly catch flak…

I’m taking a stand against group-thought.

As I look around me I see more and more group-thought-processing. And I doubt people really understand what I mean. It’s a small thing that becomes a big thing when we aim to suppress thought or speech that is disagreeable to me or my “group”.

And I think such is cancerous.

I think of niece of mine. Hers is a multiracial family. A while back we were discussing the erroneous thought that young black males are 4000% more likely to be shot by police than young white males. The facts are clear on this topic, and we talked it through shared info and agreed on the facts. Yet my dear niece stated that she “can’t say that in public”. Basically, I interpret this as her saying her group-thought-process wont allow the facts to be raised.

So sad.

Group thought comes in many forms and shapes and sizes. Group thought is part and parcel to our communal conditioning. Our societal indoctrination.

Again, sad… yet required in many ways.

But I hear my faithful readers ask what prompted this verbiage, this missive from the proclaimed centrist…

I was involved in an online discussion which started with this post:

OK… allow me to voice my concerns… The post starts in a group-thought-leading manner. How can anyone dare stand up and disagree with an opener like this? You’d have to be stupid to think climate change is NOT man-made. You’d have to be “one of those” … and even as one of those, you are required to have a heart and “take action”…

I know I am being simplistic but I fear the facts show that climate change is the norm of nature and that its been taking place much longer than mankind has been attempting to interfere.

I just watched an interesting discussion on “The Bolt Report” with Ian Plimer.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ian_Plimer

Well worth hearing what this guy has to say.

So, like I said… I know I am being simplistic but I fear the facts show that climate change is the norm.

And, of course, mankind does interfere with nature. We produce heat in many ways. Enough heat in a small space can change the immediate climate. Consider a green house. A basic definition of changing climate for a need or want or by accident.

Our many herds of domestic animals produce heaps of body-heat and methane.

All the concrete we lay for roads and parking lots and bike paths and basketball courts all absorb heat and retain such for slow dissipation, which does indeed affect the climate of that immediate location.

Air-conditioners roar on roof tops and create loads of heat.

I know a highway near me where tens of thousands of cubic meters of vegetation has been ripped up in order to create a better road system. Trading the cooling effect of vegetation and shade for concrete.

But the comments as posed in the referenced post are exclusive. Designed to attract those who agree and repulse dissenters.

Kinda a definition of group-thought, me thinks… attract like-minded and reject dissenters.

This post I take exception to…

1. It starts in an accosting manner. This starts challenging anyone to argue with the fact that a) climate change exists, and b) climate change is not man-made. It presupposes that anyone reading this agrees initially and primarily with both a) and b). And if you do you not, you are still promoted to take action.
2. It states “Solomon Islands Fact File”… I must ask what and where is this “fact file”? Who manages it? What facts does it file? But by gratis of its title the weight of the comment is worth more than, say,  if its publisher was the National Inquirer or the Solomon Star. It is misleading.
3. On checking I find the Solomon Islands Fact File is a FB page. I can’t see who operates the page but I suspect it to be the SIVB.
4. This particular posts states as fact that “five islands have disappeared under water”. The five islands named are “Kakatina, Kale, Rapita, Rehana and Zollies”.
5.  I find that this is a 2016 story which was picked up by a number of press-services. Now it resurfaces in a 2018 fact file.
6. As near as I can determine, Kakatina is indeed underwater but I can’t tell what historic elevation was. Kale is listed as being at 10m elevation. If in recorded history, this island is noted as being 10m high, well hell, once it has disappeared underwater we’d all have noticed. Rapita is the same, it’s listed as being at 15m elevation. Rehana I can find no reference to. Zollies I cannot find refs.
7. Indeed, names and such may make my search ineffective but I can see where this report came from, note it is not current and perhaps was never really news, but rather views, observations and opinions of a scholarly kind.
8. For every published disappearing island report there are published reports of islands growing naturally. A casual search of “Pacific islands growing not shrinking” offers a lot to read through. A quick look and I find a 2018 report… https://phys.org/news/2018-02-pacific-nation-bigger.html 
9. I have no real horse in this race. Other than considering myself a thoughtful and informed person, I work hard at sifting fact from the fiction. If I find something questionable, I question it. And I hate the smell of sensationalistic reporting.
10. My alarms rang when I read this article. It was too cute.  And I tend to call BullShit. As much as I call group-think.
11. It is my opinion, and the way this started is wrong… its insulting to think everyone must think the same. The attitude of the article rubbed me wrong… how dare any one disagree… “Even if (as some believe) climate change is not man-made” … sure, lay down the gauntlet and challenge anyone to argue with the group-agreed-thought… and then… “perhaps we can take action to reduce its tragic impact.”
12. It’s not that I do not think the rise in sea levels in some areas is a problem, nor that erosion on many islands is a problem, nor that certain factors lead to islands growing as well as shrinking. I am just against sensationalistic reporting and group-agreed-thought.
13. I have had a good look at the report which initiated this “news article” … http://iopscience.iop.org/article/10.1088/1748-9326/11/5/054011
14. I note they state  “(5%–95% uncertainty range about the projections) “.
15. And such made me laugh. Sure, base you decisions in life, your judgment of others and your moral code on less than factual reports found on a “fact page”.

Go team go…

Smiles

First week of September behind us.

Been busy.

What with family n farm’n n general fun… well hell, been busy.

As I write this I am watching school boy rugby in Brisbane. An over cast, rainy day. Perfect day for rugby.

Some Picts from the first week of the ninth month…

Ollie found an echidna the other day… Echidnas are like porcupines, also known as spiny ant eaters.

Spent a week trying to revive the battery for the Shelby… didn’t work. Ended up buying a new one.

After almost a year of shame and embarrassment I fixed the Bimota. Dropped it and snapped the mirror. Felt terrible about dropping such an exotic bike. My catholic sense of guilt required a long penance.Cooked a killer mess of beans n veggies n beast this week. Fed the household for a couple days.

My deregure on the farm…

taking steps to get my fire arms licence…

The sunny side of the farm…

more battery fun n games….

more later

Other than the fact that I think London is the best city in the world; Grace and I are here to join a frivolous yet way, way cool annual and international event known as The Gumball 3000.

Google “Gumball 3000” and you’ll see that, for those who claim to be a “motorhead”, GB3000 is way cool. It’s frivolous nature defines it as cool; cool like Evil Knevil jumping the snake river, or Johnny Knoxville getting shot in the goolies by a pitching machine. Dumb cool. Fast cool. Frivolous cool…

Was just outside and saw this: 

A couple million dollars worth of vroom on those trucks. Gotta dig the police-mobile. You can tell people are passionate about the GB3000.

I decided to talk my way into the rally last year. I had hoped to get a car here but that plan fell through, so we rent a car. It you are aiming to be foolish in a car, a rental is the way to go…

So tomorrow morning Grace and I head off in our rental with a pack of 100 other vehicles. All dolled up and full of vrooom. We will travel into Europe, then in 3 days we all board a plan and fly to Japan (cars and all) to complete the rally there.

Very much looking forward to it.

This is from yesterday: 

And life is good, its vroom filled…

Smiles

My mother is an amazing person. Many of my faithful readers know my mother. And if you meet her once, you know her well. She is not shy or quiet or inverted. Not in the least!

She is a “larger-than-life” character. Perhaps a cross between a character you’d find in either a Wilber Smith novel or a Mother Goose tale. She is a tough, hard, all-knowing, all-seeing, omnipresent force of nature. Her temper is fierce, her love eternal. She has an iron will and a razor-sharp tongue.

I have been hang’n with Granny in Ioway for the last couple days.

It has been great. Mother’s huge family is incredibly lucky to still have her with us – and to have her genes.

I have written about my mother before…

https://nativeiowan.wordpress.com/2009/04/11/and-mother-farted/

https://wordpress.com/posts/nativeiowan.wordpress.com?s=garden

Mother was 91 last May.

A depression era/ WW2 era child. She grew up rough. No privilege or special treatment. She quit school young to work in her family’s business. To help pay for here sister’s education. Her father died when she was still young. She married my father against her mother’s wishes. Her mother never forgave her.

She was a post WW2 bride to a returning serviceman. They got together and started making babies.

Her health has never been fantastic. She had nine live births over 18 years of childbearing. Her youngest child is (I think) 52, and her eldest 70. Her family is very large and very extended.

These days Granny is fragile.

Still pretty switched on, she does struggle with “keeping-up” in conversations.

She is aware enough to allow corrections in conversation. When she is a bit “off” with her facts, we can talk her through to remembering the facts and laugh and enjoy Granny’s terrible forgetfulness.

Today we were talking cars and we all recalled a few years back when she totalled hers in a 2-car accident. She was arguing that she’d never totalled a car. We reminded her of what n when. Her comment was “I’m glad I don’t remember stuff like that.”

It has been great enjoying life with her.

Quite a few siblings stopped by… Angela came for lunch one day. Holly n Ron came by for an afternoon of chatting. Katie Bailey and her family – Brian, Addie, Zoe, n Mikey were around quite a bit. And my absolute favourite short-person, Tracey Goodrich, showed up with her husband, Joe, and son, Jake for a Sunday BBQ.

Katie and Tracey are my nieces. Both are very cool human-beans with amazing families. Jake is one of my adopted kids. Jake came for an extended visit to the Solomons and lived with us in Gizo 6 years ago. He is a superstar. I attribute all to my influence.

I must spend a bit of time applauding and tipping my hat to Mother’s care-givers Mike n Jane Leaven and Brother-Monk.

Jane is my elder sister. She’s married to Mike, a very old friend. It’s a good thing when family members are good friends.

Mother lives with Mike and Jane. Brother Monk lives near by and is mom’s chauffeur and bookkeeper. Mother keeps the three “care-givers” quite busy.

It is a demanding job caring for a 91-year-old fragile and ill and crotchety old lady like Mother.

Here is Granny and Gracie looking very beautiful…

Note- Granny flipping us all the “bird”… she is still full of spunk and coffee-grounds…

July 25, 2018. Sitting at LAX. On our way to Ioway. Sitting in a departure lounge drinking and honest cup of ol-fashioned brewed coffee. Not a latte or a cappuccino, a good old cup of brewed coffee. Its pretty good.

Up early this morn. Was sound, sound, sound asleep when the alarm went off at 6am. Woke easy enough and quickly got organized to head off. Spent last eve cleaning and packing so this morn was a breeze.

We were on the sidewalk well before 7am, our car was there not long after we showed up. The ride to LAX was pretty quick – less than an hour – and we got checked in and cleared through security without any pain.

Of course, LAX is a busy, busy place. How many thousands of people move through here daily?

My internet connection is not working so I can’t google the question and know what the answer is. Damn, we depend on the modern tech a lot!

So, as the song says… LA International Airport, where the big jet engines roar…

We sit and watch the outside world through a thick glass window. We can still hear the big jet engines roar. We can see the plethora of pedestrians and vehicles move across the tarmac. No less than 15 aircraft in our immediate vision. Dozens of vehicles of every shape and size. Trucks and cars and tugs and trailers. It is a busy place.

It makes one wonder where everyone is going. It is rather impressive to think of the thousands upon thousands of travelers in this one place… plus the thousand sup on thousands in all the other airports around the place.

Just checked and we see in excess of 6million people per month – over 200,000 people per day traveling form this place –

Wow.

Time to fly.

Will be in Minneapolis soon.

Smiles

It’s always good/ all ways good to visit the USA.

I departed from this land in January 1981. Green and keen, young and quite un-learned. I was not an international traveler at that time. I was a back-packer more used to hitching a ride than boarding a plane.

Over half my life has been spent living “elsewhere”. Somewhere else, not the USA.

My early, sporadic visits back were normally punctuated by being shocked by change. By reverse culture shock.

Trips “home” were originally every two or three years. A lot can happen in a few short years.

As my visits “back-home” became more frequent the changes were less drastic. Like when you have young kids – while they are around you do not notice their change/ growth. Go away a year or two and they grow and change amazing amounts.

Now, one of the things I have learned is the change is not always what may be perceived. What I mean here is that often the change was me, not the land-I-left. The place called “home” did change but not as much as I.

In 1981 I was a ill-educated, unexposed bleeding heart liberal. What could I have known at the tender age of 23?

In 2018, 37 years later, I think of the Jackson Brown song…   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x0GhjlmlEwQ

One thought I have often these days deals with the social unrest between The Police and The Community. Nowadays there is something called racial-profiling. There is an erroneous idea that if you are not white you have a greater percentage-chance of being caught up with the Police. The facts don’t support this but that does not stop the world from believing such.

Throughout my life “Profiling” has played a huge part. My long hair, ear-ring(s), less than white family, tattoos, et al have continuously led to situations where I was “profiled”, and often in a negative way. It still happens all the time.

My approach when being profiled has always been to smile, disarm the profiler by being open and honest. The times when I have been instructed by those in authority, I always complied willingly and quickly. I habitually say yes Sir and no Ma’am, thank you and please. I was raised to not be rude. To show respect.

I have learned to “keep a civil tongue”. I have been detained, searched, hassled, shaken-down, even accosted. I have never been hand cuffed, never been arrested or spent a night in Jail.

I have wandered into many bad, bad neighborhoods – in a number of different countries. I kinda gravitate to the seedier side of town. I like low-rent stripper-bars. Those poorly lit and foul-smelling pubs one finds along the waterfront. Those basement bars found in lonely alleyways. I still wander looking for likely hangouts.

And though I have met “situations” of all sorts, I have never been “taken”, abused, lost nor damaged. And I think it’s because I do keep a civil tongue.

As I visit this land of my birth in 2018, after all those years and travels and experiences, I can still be shocked by the changes I find. Very much a part of it is an undefinable tension. A herd mentality kinda gig where folks do what they do with little thought. A Owellian weirdness.

One thing I am struggling with is the Toxic nature of White Maleness. The idea that racism and profiling is bad but, we profile all white males. We can’t profile black or brown or green males because that would be racist. But its OK to profile every white male as toxic.

???? !!!!

Did I miss something?

And the idea that Socialism is even worth discussing… ???? !!!!

Sure, FREE STUFF is attractive but not real. We know that free stuff is just a slogan, a dream, but we clamour to climb on the bandwagon none the less. Do we really think a new, different result can be realised after so many failed attempts… ???? !!!!

30-year-olds get evicted by parents. Teens divorce their parents because they are too strict. Elderly can’t afford to eat, vets live hopelessly homeless while illegal entry to the US is encouraged and welcoming such is declared a duty? A guy wearing a red hat can be beaten by a crowd while those watching applaud. Police are refused service, A huge franchise business closes for a day to give employees “cultural training”. Millionaire athletes disrespect the National Anthem… ???? !!!!

Freedom of speech is encouranged, but only when it agrees with the herd mentality… ???? !!!!

I am shocked, yes, and confused.

Maybe we should all go back to being ol-fashioned style respctful? To keeping a civil tongue?

Welcome back to the USA… a diverse and changing land.

Smiles

California has always been a “cool” place. In many ways, for my era anyway, California may well have been The Cool Place.

And it’s up there with the modern, cool-cool places in the USA, now that marijuana is legal.

I am proud to announce that for the first time in my long association with California, I bought marijuana, legally.

LEGALLY!!!

And that is way, way cool.

Part of my reason for buying the dope was simply to experience what buying dope legally in Cali is. What its like and how it works and also, indeed, how good the legal dope is.

Hell, I remember when it was a federal offence to posses a single joint. It used to be worth some worry, even in Cali. But compared to Iowa, Cali has always been tranquilo when it comes to dope. Cali has always had its own vibe. We always considered Cali a seperate country.

So, I got what I wished for, the experience was way cool and the dope was way, way too good.

It happened yesterday.

I did a web search and found a “dispensary” near by. I still have my trusty Triumph here…I didn’t have to ride far to the “dispensary”…  https://pasadena-419-non-profit-organization.business.site/

I ride up, park my bike and inhale the hapi-scent of dope.

I’m on a busy street in a commercial/ industrial area of Pasadena. Body shops and tire stores and warehouses… Not a “good” neighborhood by any measure. I don’t leave my helmet with my bike.

So the place is quite nondescript. Kinda seedy n run down. Big steel door. No frills outside.

I walk into a bare room with a gal behind security glass. A dude in a relaxed security-guard-uniform sits behind the gal. She is bubbly n hapi. They sell dope here, it looks like every one is hapi. Even the security dude looks relaxed.

She asks for my ID. I give her my Aussie drivers licence, which throws her. Don’t you have a Cali ID, she asks. I say no, I’m just visiting, I live in Australia.

That makes her hapi and she smiles and asks how it is. We chat a bit then I get to  fill in a form. She holds onto my licence as I go in and get buzzed through double security doors.

I walk into a large, well-lit area. Thumping modern music plays.

Immediately in front of me a gal with a big smile helps a guy take a big toke on a little bong. I walk into a big blue cloud of dope smoke. The dude got a good hit, his eyes are bulging as he coughs.

I decide then and there to not accept any samples. I got to ride my bike home and don’t want to risk anything. This is supposed to be a fun experience. Not a dangerous escapade… No samples for me, as I glance back at the dude with the bulging eyes.

A gal at a counter to my right greets me with a smiling “what can I do for you”.

I’d like to buy a lil’bit of dope, I say.

One or two grams? she asks.

Two grams would be good, I reply. But I don’t want any Sonoma-Coma or make you-hungry dope. I want something easy to use.

Have a smell of this, or this, she says, putting two mason jars filled with buds in front of me… one is more citrisy, the other is sativa, should be more energetic.

They both smell good.

I like your work, she says nodding to my ink. She shows me a few pieces she has. I comment that ink is addictive, be careful.

I choose the non-cirtisy stuff. Two grams for $10.00 a gram plus tax. $22.00 USD all up. I am a first time customer so i get a discount. Rumours have it that cali has made over 30 milion per quarter in taxes on the newly legal product. 120mil income per annum for somethign that used to be illegal. makes commercial sense to me.

So, my dope in my back pack, I hop on my bike and head home.

I have ever wondered at the propensity for the cops to be everywhere when you be carrying illegal substances. Going back deacdes, everytime…  get a bit if dope onboard and there are cops everywhere. A

nd it was the same this day, but the dope was legal. I had a receipt to prove it. The abundance of cops did not make me nervouse.

Cop cars, cops on bikes, I saw loads of cops, but smiled with no tension. I was legal.

So I get home and inspect what I have… Its called Durban Pie…

…use with extreme caution… aint that the truth…

It has been ages since I been knocked down and tripped on dope. We used to call it  “a grvaity attack”. Durban Pie sure did the trick.

reminds me of what we called “somona-coma”. I sat and dozed and tripped in my chair, with the TV on, for a couple of hours. It took a long, long time to swim up through the thickness of being so stoned. It was very good, and very not too good. Been a long time since I felt like that. And it makes me smile…

Whats the line from Robert Cray’s song…                                                                           You can buy me a house, turn over the deed
Bring six pounds of California weed
But my weakness ain’t drugs, whiskey, or greed

Smiles…

730pm Pasadena time. Grace is asleep on the sofa. I’m not far away.

We started travelling yesterday, with a 4am wake up. At the airport by 7am. Our flight left about 11. We landed in LA 7am this morn local time, 12 midnight Aussie time. Total travel time was over 20 hours. The flight was good. Both Grace and I slept a bit.

But we’re time-warped.

Tomorrow will be busy. And hot. We left QLD winter and enter Cali summer. We went out for a walk, a trip to the store a while ago. Didn’t walk far but worked up a good sweat.

And the beat goes on. Always interesting to come back to the land of plenty… There is so much I forget to remember… the portions served are huge. We ordered a couple of  toasted sandwiches and could have easily shared one. Ordered pretty unremarkable cups of latte and a cuppacino, forgetting that yanks prefer brewed coffee. Next time I’ll have a standard BUNN-brewed cup of “joe”.

I’ll get my bike out tomorrow. Cook some here at home. See how long it takes to sort things out, then head off to Iowa.

And the beat goes on…

Another luvely morn here in Morosa Valley. We have just started weaning 9 calves. I think they average 3 to 400 pound/ 150-200kg each.

We ran the herd down to the yards yesterday. A gentle herd we have. They are pretty easy to move. Most times. I enjoy watching them; the stately matrons, floating like a maternal brig, navigating the pastures, complete with dangling udders. The frisky lil’uns; they scamper and play, watch you, heads lowered, prepared to dart-off. The larger calves, the weaners; much larger and much more greedy, they are big but demand much of their Dame. We need to take them away and allow the cow to build her strength, breed again.

Nine were cut aside from the others easy enough. 5 calves are still small so we ran them through the crush and checked their sexual preferences out. The heifers can run through. Two calves have testicles – mui-bad. The lil one was easy to get the bands on. The big’un put up a fight. I reckon we spent an hour-plus rassl’n with him and did not succeed to get both of his baby-nuts strangled by the band.

It was another fun, old fart on the farm experience… Joe, Angelo, Mendoza and I all running some aspect of the castration process. Joe is boss so he got the band on the spreader and is ready. Mendoza is holding the head, Angelo had the calf’s rear end held in the crush. Joe and I are in the proctologist position; I hold the tail high as Joe does the examination, both hands down between the lil’guy’s legs, feeling  around for both nuts.

The operative word is “both”. It did not happen. The lil’bastard would suck one or both up. We struggled, cursed, got shat on, knelt in the mire of piss and corruption as we fought and carried on.

Two ol farts; attempting to control, dictate terms to the cute lil calf, who argued, and kicked, and carried on. At one point I told the boys; “watch his hoof, he’ll kick me in the chest”, and sure as shit, quick as a calf, I got his right rear in my sternum. Nice to know I’m not such a wimp, it didnt stop me.

My shirt has a cute lil shitty hoop print in it.

We eventually gave up. Plan was to continue this morn.

For those of my faithful readers who have experience of cows know well how vocal a herd can be when weaning takes place. You end up with a mob of calves bellowing for their mamas. And the mamas at the gate hollering back and testing the integrity of the closures.

Its all great good fart fun n games.

big smiles

A heavy layer of fog blankets the valley this morn. If it’d been a bit colder there would have been a flash frost. But instead we get the thick blanket of fog.

It all makes the world look softer, less distinct. Less rough.

I walk out back to where a couple of my cows are making unhappy noises. I cut a few from the herd last night, thinking they are dry. I was wrong on all counts. A calf is there to meet each cow I had segregated. So much for my skills in state-of-cow-recognition.

I walk back into the property, following the herd. The young-ones canter, jump, kick and show exuberance for life. The cows have a sedate manner about them. They move slow. Matriarchal ships on the paddock. Some allow me to walk near and pet them. The big-bull, Barney, acts like a Caesar, knowing that all he sees is his. He has no competition.

The boys stayed up late last night watching world-cup footie. They remain inside. They miss this walk through the sureal.

I walk through the crisp morning air, into the fog. The low-lying areas with water are thick with vapors. I stomp through the babbling brook, tap a mamma cow on the flank as I walk past her. She looks at me as though I have taken privileges with her.

A young steer gives me an evil eye. He is wanting to test himself. Even though he’s been knacked, he still has that male-butt-heads gene. I clap my hands and he jumps then trots off.

The birds are quiet this morn. I think the temps and the fog have kept them in bed. Or maybe they too watched footie last night.

Smiles

Diary of a hobby-farmer charter1, verse1:

640am. I am up and awake and have walked about a kilometer over rough ground. I am a hobby-farmer.

C1,V2: Have one cow down on her side. For those that know anything about bovines, a cow on her side is not a good thing. In Iowa a cow on her side is considered Mui-Bad.

C1,V3: #30 still-birthed on Saturday. On Sunday she was down on here side. We helped her as much as we could but could not get her up. So I called the vets. They did their magic and probably saved her life, then, but she is still down. Vets came out again Monday and did more magic, but she is still down today, Wednesday. I have named this one “PainintheArse”.

C1,V4: So the last few days has seen us move in as New Owners, deal immediately with a dying cow, get to know the herd and the land, and settle into the leisurely life of a Hobby-Farmer. 

C1,V5: Yesterday we cut what we thought were the pregnant cows from the herd and moved them into a paddock next to the house. One lied to us and we let here go back to the herd. She was lying, the bitch. We let the wrong one out and ended up last night with one  next to the house bellowing and receiving a responding bellow from the back field where the herd was.

C1,V6: So I was outside early. Let the bellowing mama out and walked her back to be with her calf. Both were happy.

C1,V7: Its 8c outside. No wind this morn and am thankful of that. I am wearing a pair of “Musto” sailing shorts, a cotton tshirt and my drizabone vest with my bamboo-tube-scarf. And my seaotter hat. Would be dying without my hat.

C1,V8: The fields are standard thick paddocks. Lovely green grass, covered in cow pies. Small hand-sized stones litter the ground. It makes for not too difficult but not too easy traveling. I find a loose-jointed gait is best to traverse the fields. I employ all my shock absorbers in each step. Much like a walk on the deck of a rolling ship covered in grass and shit.

C1,C9: It’s about 100 meters to the “back gate. So you open the gate and let the bellowing one out, walk with her to the back fence and let here out then walk the 100 meters from the hay shed to where the down cow is. Water for the down-cow is in the hay shed. A couple of trips from fence to fence to shed to down cow and you’ve done an easy half a klick. It’s easy to walk a klick and not really get very far.

C1,V10: Its 708am and the temp is dropping. We are inside having a coffee and waiting for the sun to come up a bit. We are in a valley and the sun don’t spend too much of its time on us. But the wind is down and the kookaburras are telling the world they are happy (or horny?). In a bit we’ll be out walking into the back-40 to see what the rest of the herd is doing. Check and see if there may have been a birth overnight. Make sure all is well in cattle-land… and walk another couple klicks.

And life is good.

Another Sunday coming down. Watching the prelims of UFC 224. Won’t buy the main card but will watch the free-fights and write an update…

Golly, half of the 5th month of 2018 behind us. Damn, almost half the year gone. What have I been doing? Another month slips past. I must have been snoozing!

Not really. Been real, real busy. Been having way, way too much fun… Some visuals of this past month…

On Friday 4 May my buddy Big G and I took off from Pasadena, CA for a bit of a bike ride. G keeps his BMW R1200RT in my parking spot in Pasadena. He’d been planning a trip so I chose to jump in and tag along for a couple days. Here we are loaded and ready to ride… 

We pointed north heading for Monterey. Only about a 7 hour trip. The road was friendly. We made good time. Rode right into the city and found a friendly hotel.

The guy at the hotel gave us directions to a good place to eat. Here I am trying to decipher the map. We did not find THE Place, but we found a good meal then headed out to explore Monterey.

We walked past a basement “English Pub” and had to stop in for a couple good IPAs. 

We were up early and off northwards by 8am. Of course this route means you drive through SanFran, always a drama, but the view from the north side of the bridge always worth while… 

We next took hwy 1 north… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BNh1z3mS2Qs&feature=youtu.be&app=desktop

We were heading to Occidental to pay Willis and Suellen Eschenbach a visit. Here we are taking a break at Point Reyes… 

By end day we were ensconced in Casa Eschenbach… 

It was great to back for a visit. Been ages and ages. Many thanks to MissEllen for her fine hospitality. And of course, big Bro Willis, always worth the time and discussion.

The next morn we rode south but split up a ways after SanFran. G continued his ride and I headed home.

My trusty Trumpet… what a machine!

Here are a couple of shots from G…

Once home (got back Thursday eve) I started catching up here. Went yesterday to watch Mendoza and Angelo play soccer. Brought Mr M home. AAA was heading out with friends. Of course, once home M needed feeding… Angus rump steak and eggplant were on the menu. He ate two of these…

And life is guuuud

More later

A brilliant Saturday morning here in QLD. Been over 3 weeks since I’ve got anything written.

I am packing for another trip to the US. Been a number of months, almost a year. Originally I was heading back for my Mother’s 91st birthday. But weather in the midwest has not been cooperative this year. Last week it was still snowing, so I am passing on an Iowa trip. I’ll go hang in Sunny So-Cal instead of visiting snow country.

I head to So-Cal, to Pasadena, with the task of packing up our apartment there. After five years we will be moving out of our great transit-pad on Cordova Ave. Its been a very useful asset. Pasadena has become a home to us, and in a funny way, the LA area has become less of a foe and much more of a friend.

So, as I procrastinate the day away – it is 920am – watching the daily blewz, drinking fresh black coffee my partner in crime and mother of my children smilingly serves me, I think about the word we live in…

Politics, wars, subjugation, terror, mass killings, social disobedience, foolishness, and basic bullshit… Hawks n Doves and boarders and refugees…

I dig the fact that the Koreas have met in the South. This is big. This is good.

I have visited Korea a couple of times for business. I enjoyed the hell out of each of my trips. So-Korea is a kick ass country filled with smiling hard-working honest open loving people. I can’t imagine the North is much different, other than they are subjugated by a dynastic family and have been terrorized and starved for over 5 decades.

One can only be optimistic for the Peoples of that lovely land.

Gracie walks around with her wireless headphones on. She is listening to SIBC radio. Perhaps, after 35 years of marriage, bliss is fresh coffee, daily newz and a set of wireless headphones?

So… I need to make a move. Have seen enough Newz. It do become redundant after a certain point.

And the beat goez on…

more later

So, another Sunday coming down post.

Only its Monday afternoon.

But it feels like Sunday.

Easterweekend. It’s one word. Like Hehasrisen. Or Gawdamnsumbitch.

Have had 8yr old Dylan and his 6yr old brother Max staying with us. It is boarding school holidays so both Angelo (AAA) and Mendoza (M) here too.

So two teens and two boys hanging. Like four pups, working out the pecking order.

Of course M and AAA are at home here. Dylan and Max have settled in pretty well. The big room we call “the dorm” has a four beds and a very sleep-able sofa. The Xbox n cable TV n AV bells n whistles are there.

On school holidays the boys are free to decompress, use bandwidth and manage their interests. I learned with my sons that some times all they want is to be left alone.

I can’t really say if I was that way when I was a teenager. I know I was surly to a degree. But I never had a choice in NOT WORKING. I always had a job or chores or some daily drudgery that I had no say in, I had to do it.

Daily, without fail or prevarication. I learned to enjoy the tasks at hand and the solitude many tasks allows. As a teenager, if I was busy no one fucked with me. No one told me what to do. I come from  a huge family. I am the middle of 9 natural-born. So I had elders n youngers n frustrated parents. Mowing the lawn was a blessing. I got to be alone.

Tho both AAA and M do a lot of work when they are here. Everything from laundry to dishes to lawns, and often babies. They do have heaps of freedom.

Dylan and Max (Terry’s sons) are both here for a visit. Its their first time.  Both are happy to hang with the bigger pups. They like netflicks. So much good viewing is like sugar, but its real good. The pool is busy a couple of hours a day. The bikes n quads n toys are out. It is still raining twice a day so not always conducive to use of the machines.

But we are doing pretty good. Look at the donut tracks in the grass.

What they all prefer is to do is what kids have done for a couple of generations… watch the tube… The dorm has two big screens so TV and Xbox running side by side.

I have now reared my sons (Thanks mostly to Gracie) and added two grandsons. So I think I am kinda good with the raising pups.

Like dogs, like pups, all you gotta do is have fun and learn the rules. Learn who is the boss, who you listen to. Learn to follow instructions. Learn to fetch.

I raise good kids and good dogs.

It is fun but it’s also challenging – again – to be having children around. See, these guys are not babies. They are lil-dudes. I had forgotten that lil-dudes are kinda fragile.

I think of my son Paul in the back seat of my mother’s car… between my elder brother Jim and my younger brother Rooster… Both the older hounds where being rough with the pup. When it got a bit rough – noting Paul has always been big and strong so I suspect Paul put an elbow into old-hound Jim’s ribs n Jim struck back and caused pain. The pup thought crying was appropriate.

Jim said “If you can’t hang with the hounds, get off the porch”.

We all laughed and the tears ended.

But it is true…

Dylan is dude-ish enough to hold his own with the big pups. When we first got to the pool I asked if he could swim. He said yes and did a nice dive into the deep end. His soccer skills are good enough to keep pace with both AAA and M, noting both are playing for the A grade soccer team at school. Soccer is one of their “things”.

Max is not yet a dude but ain’t a baby. Tho he still thinks he can get his way by breaking into tears. I just take him into the house. He can be there if things get too rough. Whats the family motto?

Wimps Need Not Apply.

And it is good. Check out the visuals…

Almost perfect. The fragrance insane!

A pot of beans n corn. I prefer to feed the boys really good meals. And I like to cook. So far no complaints or leftovers.

A mess of lasagna. Always make enough for a coupel days of reheating. 

Kuma taking Max for a walk

Splitting wood as a past time. My shoulder feeling much better so swinging the big splitting maul is fun.

The first full-log split the old skool way. Mendoza is getting right into it. It is very rewarding when you crack a big log in half with a couple wedegs. 

Old style quartering. End result are long “rails” of unfinished heart-wood. 

M whittling away on a piece heart-wood. Grobably get two nice long sticks out of this one. First step after splitting is trimming with the machete. 

End result of all this madness will be heart-wood sticks like Don’s

Which was a lot of fun to make.

Max at the Australian Zoo.

More later