Qvick! Ruunnnn!

So, in the ongoing effort to be a responsible human companion to our four-legged friends, I was out on a walk. The weather website showed some thunderstorm activity northeast of Spokane that showed signs of moving southwest (as if that ever happens). I thought there was plenty of time, especially given the limits Cayenne's hips place on our activities.

The sky was lovely and interesting, especially when I neared the intersection of 35th and Altamont, the far reaches of our excursion. It was then that I noticed the significant movement of the clouds moving from northeast to southwest (as if that ever happens). Given Cayenne's condition, I couldn't really push the pace (you can't teach pace), but no worries. Just as we turned down Crestline from 35th toward home, I noticed large, dark spots on the pavement. Thinking they might be frogs, I paused momentarily. I then heard the first THWACK of rain/hail.

Doing my best Jürgen Prochnow impersonation from Dune, I shouted encouragement to the dogs as I broke into a run: "Qvick! Ruunnnn!" The dogs immediately made the connection, and began sniffing for giant sandworms in Bill and Cis' yard.

I wasn't really that worried about melting or anything, and there was no lightning, of which I am famously afraid. It was the laundry on the line. Today was the last good day to dry, and I had washed the dog pillow covers in an effort (mostly vain) to remove the skunk smell. The pillows themselves were lying exposed on the deck where they had soaked up the sunshine. Towels, socks and underwear were carefully spaced on the opposite side of the umbrella clothesline. I had to save the laundry!

"Qvick! Ruunnnn!"

The dogs gave up looking for sandworms, and began searching for the Kwisatz Haderach.

Eventually I got everyone into the back yard. The cat, alarmed either by the storm or my broken English, followed us in. The laundry was saved, and everyone made it safely in just as.... it stopped raining.

This wouldn't be happening to me if I had a houssse-keeperr.

Now, as I post this, the storm has come. Cue the electric guitars. Let the Fremen dance.

A Season of Contradictions

These high summer days present us with one of time's contradictions. On the one hand, August tells time in its unique, slow fashion. The fruit ripens slowly, the lawn needs water every few days, and to be mowed on occasion. It all seems to unfold slowly, as if the whole world is avoiding breaking into a sweat. Even the sky is lazy.

On the other hand, I am conscious of the quickened shortening of daylight, and the rapid turn of pages on the calendar. Summer, so long-awaited, is already waning. Even the 90 degree heat can't keep me from shuddering as I contemplate last winter's snows, and the possibility of their return.

I should endeavor to enjoy as much summer as I can crowd into my moments. I'll start on that as soon as I finish this glass of tea, and maybe take a nap.

Things You Don't Want to Hear....

There are some words and phrases you just don't want to hear.

• In relationships: "I've met someone." "It's not you, it's me." "We need to talk."
• From the physician: "We can't be sure...we'll order some more tests."
• From the insurance company: "That isn't covered."

I'm sure you can add your own set of least favorites to this brief list, some more serious than others. I can now add another category and phrase as well. You hate to get a call from the pet sitter saying, "I think the skunk is somewhere in the house."

Sally and I just returned from a whirlwind visit with her aunt in Reno. In a week we covered 2,000 miles, a National Park, a National Monument, 2 days with Sally's aunt, 2 days with Erin in Corvallis, and bookend visits with Megan in Kennewick as we came and went. As we began the last leg of the journey, we left a message with the pet sitter to inform him that we would be home a few hours earlier than expected. The pet sitter returned our call, saying that he had hoped to get the house aired out more before we returned, and that the odor was so strong he was concerned that the skunk might actually be in the house....

The next couple hours were filled with all sorts of mental images, speculations, and honest questions. Just who do you call to remove a skunk from your house?

We arrived back home prepared for the worst. In that sense, our pet sitter's warning accomplished its goal. Given that we feared we might be living out our own version of When Animals Strike!, we were relieved that there was no sign that a skunk had taken up residence with us. Cayenne, on the other hand, is quite odoriferous, as is anything and everything she has laid on, brushed against, or looked at.

This isn't the way we hoped the vacation would end. Sally also received word that her boss broke his collarbone over the weekend, and that she needed to cover the series of statewide meetings he had slated for this week. So we did laundry late last night, repacked her suitcase this morning, and hustled her off to central Washington.

For years we have preached that the worst times make the best stories. We will survive to tell the tales of the past week, and they will be humorous and entertaining. In the immortal words of countless kids on vacation, "Are we there yet?"

Coming to Terms

I have time for just one last diversion before I return my attention to the empty shell that is the once and future kitchen. Three terms or phrases that emerged in the past several hours:

Cat Trick - When a feline devours three consecutive helpings of his least favorite canned food in one "sitting".

Double Boiler Over - The result of failing to turn down the heat quite enough while cooking the oatmeal this morning.

Remudiation - Having to go back and redo a part of a wall that you thought was ready to prime and paint.

It's Friday (well, except in New Zealand, where the weekend comes early). Hope you have a good one!

A Bit More Mud

One of my friends growing up was "Steve" (not Steve's real name). At least we were friends when he wasn't trying to kill me with a golf club, which makes, by the way, an interesting whirling sound when thrown at you.

Steve was an avid and skilled golfer, and the top player on our team. Steve grew up playing golf, and had the complete support of his parents, who were willing to buy him a new set of clubs whenever he needed, such as after hitting one bad shot or breaking a club by throwing it at a friend. This was in sharp contrast to the way my brothers and I were raised. Our parents certainly supported us, but our golf clubs were an interesting mix drawn together from various yard sales. Even at that, they were seemingly irreplaceable. If you broke one, you'd just have to use another. And bad shots? We were raised to believe that bad shots were usually the result of a problem with the nut on the end of the handle.

I thought of "Steve" just this morning upon noticing that I used 6 different joint knives in applying mud to one side of one doorway in my latest drywall adventure. I must have thought that employing a different joint knife would compensate for my apparent lack of skill. Though I don't want to make adjustments on those tools loaned to us by our friends in Colville, ours are a different matter. I'm taking a hard look at the nut on the end of their handles.

Mud

In one sense, applying joint compound to drywall is not difficult. It isn't hard to lift, nor does it have an objectionable odor. It is water soluble, so spills and mistakes wipe up easily. So what makes this part of the job so demanding?

Mudding is art. It requires concentration, fine motor skills, and the ability to work under pressure. The pressure comes from knowing that your "artwork" will be visible to any and everyone who ever again enters the house. I imagine pleasant conversation over drinks: "Oh, I see that you drywall!"

After an hour or so I get impatient with the process, wanting to be able to obtain more consistent results. A bubble interferes with my plans. Efforts to fix the bubble make everything worse. One problem leads to another and I'm ready to throw mud everywhere. Time for a break.

We joke about the "inner Sheldon" that we carry about, in reference to the outrageous character on television's "Big Bang Theory". Sheldon is brilliant in a narrow sense, and broadly obsessive-compulsive. The littlest irregularities in his regimen and existence confound him. Sheldon should not attempt mudding. But it's too late for me... the attempt is already underway.

More on Contextualism

The confirmation hearings of Sonia Sotomayor have given us another opportunity to listen to earnest members of the Senate emphasize that the U.S. Constitution should not really be interpreted, but rather only applied within the limited constraints of the intent of the framers. In making this point they employ the buzz phrase, legislating from the bench. This perspective, like all literalism, is patently absurd. Even if we could determine the framers' intent, using other writings and the like to build a case, we would still be left with the enormous question of what the framers might think about, say, electronic communication, or global warming, or moving the headquarters of a corporation to Bermuda so as to avoid paying taxes in the United States. Newsflash: they didn't think about such things.

Literalistic religion is even worse, in part because the scale of time is much greater. The WWJD (What Would Jesus Do?) crowd seems to be asking serious questions, though a Rolex wearing, Mercedes driving, Brooks Brothers clad member of a prosperity gospel church wearing a WWJD wristband is also patently absurd.

Before we can consider WWJD, we need to ask WDJD and WDJS (What Did Jesus Do?, and What Did Jesus Say?). The answers to these questions, however, are not clear. Though we have access to written works purporting to record the actions and words of Jesus, whole panels of scholars engage in lively debate about which accounts of Jesus' words and actions, if any, are literally true. (for more information, go to a link explaining the Jesus Seminar, here.)

Further, even if we established the historicity of any of Jesus' words and actions, we would then need to consider WDJM (What Did Jesus Mean?). Again, there is no unanimity about the meaning or intent of anything Jesus said. This is one of the explanations for the many different faith traditions and denominations within the larger "family" of Christianity. We interpret what Jesus (might or might not have) said differently.

Truth be told, we're really just making stuff up.

Now, we make it up in full accordance with the rules established by the particular branch of the Faith we follow. Before anyone can be recognized as having the authority of the church to which they belong, they need to pass rigorous examination by others within that denomination or sect to make sure they are making things up according to their tradition's established rules. After all, we don't want just anyone making up just anything! Heavens, no!

Look, I'm not picking a fight with the Faith.... In the first place, it's too easy, and in the second, you can't ever be recognized as having made a valid point anyway, so why bother.

My point is, if we are going to make things up, that is to say, select for emphasis certain religious tenets which may or may not be based upon historically accurate information for application to circumstances totally beyond the experiences or awareness of anyone that may or may not have uttered them in the first place (unless you're a member of a sect that believes that the Almighty is indeed All-Knowing and therefore anticipated everything that is happening and that will happen, and caused stuff to be said and written for just that purpose), let's be honest about it. And let's be purposeful.

Rather than worrying about whether or not we are getting our understanding of the past right, I propose that we concentrate on understanding the implications of present actions for the future. Can we find an ecological ethic in the Bible, or in the words of Jesus? Perhaps, but we really have to engage in some eisegetical gymnastics to do so. I'd prefer we just say that, given the time we are in, and the new circumstances we face, we cannot afford to spend much time wrestling with whether or not the words of any ancient text commend action. To continue to do so is patently absurd.

Could Jesus help the commercial fishing industry by instructing them from which side of the trawler to let out their 20 mile long drift net? Would following his teaching on the matter limit the ecological damage done to fish stocks and coral reefs?

We aren't any longer debating how many angels can stand on the head of a pin. Thank goodness we've progressed so far.