MOUNTAIN DREAMS – WORLD SHARING, WEEK 40

Cee’s Share Your World – 2014

You’re given $500,000 dollars tax-free (any currency), what do you spend it on?

Pay off ALL our debts.

We need a new house. Maybe build one on the land we already own, but have it properly graded so that it doesn’t flood. Clear enough trees so we get the sunlight and it’s not always dark inside.

72-MorningCabin-10-6_18

Build it without steps! Make it friendly to those of us who have trouble navigating. I’d like to get a scooter for when I need to get around in malls or parks, but something that can handle bumpy terrains so I can go where pictures lure me. I can walk, but my hiking days are done.

72-MorningCabin-10-6_25

I would like a vacation house in the mountains. Maybe in Colorado or New Mexico, but here in Maine is nice too, though it’s rather a bit cold. There is something restful about mountains. The air is so sweet, sharp, crisp. Everything is clean and uncrowded.

Time has — to a large degree — run slower in high altitudes than at sea level. That’s the way mountain people want it. It’s the way I want it too. I want my cable TV and WiFi, but the slower pace, the less charged atmosphere is soothing. I don’t even mind the cold so much, as long as I can cuddle up to a fire and watch the snow swirl around me, not have to shovel it!

What’s the finest education?

Whatever education you want to get is the finest education. For me? I’ve enough formal education. One degree will suffice for this lifetime. I’ve learned most things I know for which I have any use, by reading and living. Everyone should get enough education to work and support themselves and maybe others, but beyond that? Only if you want something special.

What kind of art is your favorite? Why?

I love music, literature, painting, photography, lithography, sculpture, and graphic arts .Did I miss anything?

Is there something that you memorized long ago and still remember?

Some poems, bits of Shakespeare, words to some songs. Nothing terribly meaningful.

What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?

I’m grateful we got through last week … and for the generosity and kindness of friends. Including many friends I never knew I had. I’m looking forward to a peace week in these mountains, visiting with friends Garry and I haven’t seen in nearly 50 years … and coming home to a repaired well!

TIMING IN, TIMING OUT, TIMING INSIDE-OUT

One-Way Street – Timing Out or In or Inside-Out?

Congrats! You’re the owner of a new time machine. The catch? It comes in two models, each traveling one way only: the past OR the future. Which do you choose, and why?


TimeTravel

First of all, no one can travel to the future unless they are returning from the past. Everyone who’s anybody knows that. It hasn’t happened yet, so you can’t go there. You can’t go sometime if it never occurred.

nasa time machine

One-way time travel sounds ominous to me regardless of direction.

You mean … I can’t come home? Ever? I have to go forward or backward and it’s a final decision? Without hope of returning to my time, my friends, family? My world?

In which case, no thank you. That’s way too high a price to satisfy a bit of curiosity.

With all the issues of the present, this is my time. It is where I belong, for good or ill.

NOTE: As of this writing, it’s another zero response day at WordPress. I’m not even going to report it. I’m fed up and I’m on vacation. WordPress: FIX YOUR SOFTWARE or replace it with something that works consistently and dependably. Stop dicking around.

CHATTING WITH DAVE, THE WELL GUY

Interview

For this week’s challenge, let someone else do the talking.


Ring. Ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Dave.”

“Oh, hi Dave. Thanks for getting back to me so quickly. I just wanted to remind you we are going to be out-of-town from Sunday through next weekend. Owen will be here, so he can take care of anything you need. Except money. I won’t be able to pay you till we get back.”

“Don’t worry. Enjoy your vacation. I know where you live. You’re not running away, and I don’t think you’ll spend all your money on vacation.”

I flash on Jackman, Maine.

Downtown Jackman. From Google Earth.

Downtown Jackman. From Google Earth.

That’s where we are going on Sunday and we’ll be there for a week. It’s a town in which — other than a tee-shirt and souvenir shop — there are no stores. No restaurants, either. Nowhere to spend money, even if we had money to spend. Which we don’t.

“No, the money is tucked safely in our savings account. So it won’t get accidentally spent on groceries.” Or other frivolities, I think to myself.

“No problem. We’ll get it done.”

“You have my son’s number?”

“I have it somewhere. Maybe you should give it to me again.”

I do that. He writes it on another slip of paper that as likely as not, he will lose … but he knows where we live. If worse comes to worse, he can track my son down. They know each other. It’s a small town.

And that’s what we call “a country contract,” folks. That’s how we do it, out here, where there are as many cows as cars. No paper. Nothing in writing. Just an agreement, on the phone.

You know what? I’m sure Dave will come and fix our well. More certain than I ever was with contractors I hired in Boston. With all the paperwork and legalities, I never knew when or if they would show up.

72-Foliage-9-29-14_034

But I know Dave. Hell, the whole town knows Dave. He keeps his word. If he didn’t, everyone would know it, including me. He’d be out of business.

Small towns. Gotta love’em.

ANOTHER DAY

It’s Always Something

For some reason, my pingback isn’t pinging back, so this isn’t appearing in the big list of daily prompts. No reason I can figure. I do this every day and this ought to work. But it’s always something, isn’t it.


These lazy “just write and don’t think posts” amuse me. I write every morning. That’s what I do every day, unless I’m sick or traveling. I sit down and write. What do other people do, I wonder? The whole point of a prompt is to direct the writing, to send it in a direction, so to be told to “just write” is sort of funny. I don’t need a prompt for that, you know? I’m a writer. I will write anyhow.

72-At-Home_020

Today we are in full “getting ready to go on vacation mode.” There are dozens of small things to take care of.

Extra dog food to buy.

Call the well guy so he knows we’ll be gone, make sure he has Owen’s number. We’ll pay him when we get home. Decide what we are taking. Not just clothing, but things. All the cameras, of course, The laptops. The Kindles. The tooth machine. What, you don’t take your tooth cleaning machine on vacation?

Conversation With Dave the Well Guy

Ring. Ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Dave.”

“Oh, hi Dave. Thanks for getting back to me so quickly. I just wanted to remind you we are going to be out-of-town from Sunday through next weekend. Owen will be here, so he can take care of anything you need. Except money. I won’t be able to pay you till we get back.”

“No problem. I know where you live. You’re not going anywhere and I don’t think you’ll spend ALL your money on vacation.” I flash on Jackman, where other than a tee-shirt and souvenir shop, there is nowhere to spend money even if we had money to spend, which we don’t.

“No, the money is tucked safely in our savings account so it won’t get accidentally spent on groceries.” Or other frivolities, I think to myself.

“No problem. We’ll get it done.”

That’s a country contract, folks. That’s how we do it, out here. No paper. Nothing in writing. Just an agreement, on the phone.

“You have Owen’s number?”

“I have it somewhere. Maybe you should give it to me again.” I do. He writes it on another slip of paper that as likely as not, he will lose … but he knows where we live and if worse comes to worse, he can track my son down. They know each other. It’s a small town.

Back to the Rest of Reality

The rice cooker. I’m going to bring it. For years I cooked rice without a special machine, but it’s been 15 years since I prepared rice without a rice cooker, so Garry says “just take the cooker.” It seems an embarrassment of riches, but I’m going to do it anyway.

Get the oil changed in the car.

Take cash out of the bank. Pack the laundry in a big trash bag and take it along because there’s a washer and dryer at the house. Don’t forget the special shampoo you need. Make sure we have all the phone numbers and papers we need. Directions. Do we want to take our pillows? Last time, we took them … and forgot them and had to buy new ones.

Worry about the dogs. Worry about everything because I worry. If I worry about it, maybe I can prevent it from happening. Worry as a ward against bad luck? I don’t think so. Charge the Kindles. Pack all the battery chargers for the cameras. Why does each camera require a different battery? Why can’t they standardize something? Batteries would seem a good place to start, don’t you think?

That’s what’s on my mind. Add it wondering what the weather will be like in Maine. I’m assuming a bit colder than here, though according to Wunderground, not much different … a few degrees at most.

Feeling uneasy about going away before resolving the well crisis … but we planned this a year ago and we either go, or lose the vacation. There’s no real reason to stay here and babysit our crisis, is there? Crises do just fine without a babysitter.

Ten minutes. I’m done. Back to sipping coffee. The leaves are still golden, even in the drizzly rain. Another day has begun.

Ready, Set, Done – Daily Prompt

EVERYTHING MEANS SOMETHING. MAYBE.

Early Friday morning, I was dreaming. In the dream, I was talking to a particularly annoying telemarketer and couldn’t get her off the phone. I was wondering — in my dream — why I persist in answering these calls, I woke up because the telephone rang. And wouldn’t you know it? It was the very same especially aggravating telephone solicitor.

Coincidence? Not a chance. It was a sign.

But there was more to come.

72-On-The-Road_063

We were having quiche for dinner. We buy it at the supermarket and I heat it in the little convection oven. As dinnertime approached, I decided to change into something without elastic — my nightgown. I have tee-shirt nightgowns from Land’s End. They are the cat’s meow in comfort.

I went to the kitchen. Set the oven on pre-heat. I went to the bedroom, slid out of my clothing, into my nightgown. Turned off the lights, went back to the kitchen. Unwrapped the quiche. Carried it to the oven. At that exact moment, the oven beeped to tell me it was up to temperature.

Coincidence? Of course not. It was another sign!

I could no longer keep it to myself. Omens and portents were gathering. I had to share, to tell Garry. When I finished, he looked blank.

“Really, it means something. Because everything means something.” I gave him my most sincere ‘look.’

“O. K.” said Garry, very slowly. “I give up. What does it mean?”

“I have no idea.”

Garry’s eyebrows went a little higher … and even higher until his forehead could wrinkle no further.

“I’ve decided,” I said, “To become more New Age in my outlook. Everything means something. Everything. I just have to figure out what.”

Garry’s eyes were glazing over, so I figured he’d had enough. It’s was also the first day of 5775. That had to mean something too, right? It’s all about the number six. You see, if you add 5 + 7 + 7 + 5 = 24 = 2 + 4 = 6

And that means (trumpets):

NUMBER 6

ATTRIBUTES AND ENERGIES OF THE NUMBER 6

Connects above and below, reconciliation, intellectual creativity, discrimination, imagination, union, love, perfection, ability to use the imagination and the intellect combined, relatedness, taking responsibility for choices.

Positive:

Domestic, responsible, care, teacher, conventional, provider, protector, healer, idealistic, selfless, honest, charitable, faithful, nurturer, truth, order, economy, emotional depth, curiosity, deep love of home and family, humanitarian, service, unselfishness, balance, good provider, peaceful, self-sacrifice, empathy, sympathy, unconditional love, circulation, agriculture, balance, grace, simplicity, ability to compromise, reliable.

Relates to:

The planets:  Venus and Uranus

The Lovers Tarot Card

Friday

Colours:  Indigo/Purple and Green

From NUMEROLOGY – The Vibration and Meaning of NUMBERS

And that’s about as New Age as I can get. Isn’t that fantastic news? It’s all good. And I know this because of the auguries — dreams and numbers and everything.

I hope it also means we’ll get some rain.  Soon.

NOTES

Make It Count – You’ve been given the opportunity to send one message to one person you wouldn’t normally have access to (for example: the President. Kim Kardashian. A coffee grower in Ethiopia). Who’s the person you choose, and what’s the message?


I’m totally blank. I can’t think of any message I could send once to anyone in time or space that would make a difference.

Send a note to Julius Caesar and tell him to skip the senate that day? They would have killed him on a different day.

How about: “Hey, Ulysses. Don’t get involved with those girl singers.”

“Achilles, don’t brag about your invulnerability and how you came by it. And cover those heels!”

hyannis boat flag harbor

“Oh Chris? Yes, you. Columbo. Turn back. Your crew is carrying disease and you are going to wipe out millions of innocent people. Oh, you like that idea do you? Come closer. Let me kill you myself.”

“Mr. Lincoln, don’t go to the theater tonight. And get the Secret Service on that Wilkes guy. He’s more than merely a bad actor.”

“Mr. Kennedy, sir! Please do not ride through Dallas top down today. In fact, call in sick. Get a pedicure. Take a nap. Anything but a drive through Dallas.”

A couple of timely notes to myself could help. “Go to a better surgeon. Don’t let that hack anywhere near you with a scalpel.” I’d need to send at least two such warning notes. I am apparently a slow learner. Or, I could fix my own life. I could send a note to my Mom warning her not to get involved with my dad. Oops, but then there would be no me to send the note — and we get into all kinds of time travel-related complexities.

Or how about “Don’t buy the condo in Lynn. Wait. Garry’s going to ask you to marry him and you can get a place together!” That might have made a difference!

I’m just going to not say anything to anyone. You know about the butterfly effect? Anything I want to do would probably cause the world to end. I’ve got enough on my plate. I’ll leave world breaking to someone else

WHY CAN’T I FIX IT WITH SOFTWARE? HAPPY 5775!

Monday, the well went dry. Bummer. Scary bummer. Mother Nature saying “The joke’s on YOU!”

While I’m saying “Hey … but … wait a minute … Can’t I fix that with software? “

Going home

So after I stop running around in circles and weeping hysterically — bet you’re glad you missed it — and with the help of a whole lot of people (it takes a village), we gather money to fix the well. Because we have been assured by both well contractors who work in our area that our well can be fixed. And they have the know-how and equipment to do it.

72-OnTheRoad-9-25_008

We need a firm estimate — real numbers. Not the vague estimate one typically gets from a contractor. A commitment to do the work before the ground freezes. Contractors are a lot like Mother Nature. You can’t control a contractor. They show up when they show up, work when they work. If you annoy them, they might not work and you don’t want that. If you haven’t seen The Money Pit, see it. It’s a hilarious movie, in a rueful way. Good for a guffaw mixed with memories of other jobs, other contractors. Waiting for them to show up, hoping they will show up. Feeling you should have a party if they do show up.

There is nothing more humbling than being in thrall to a contractor. You can’t do the work yourself. You need him and are committed. If he doesn’t get the work done when he says he will, for the price he has promised, you are so screwed.

72-OnTheRoad-9-25_041

In the middle of this sturm und drang, I had to go to the cardiologist. And the pacemaker lab. The pacemaker lab both fascinates and creeps me out. They mess around with my heart. Literally, tuning me up. Tuning me up? She does a read-out and tells me my heart has had no “incidents.” There’s a complete electronic record of everything my heart has — or has not — done since my last visit. She decides to skip a beat. Weird feeling. Then she speeds up my heart and skips two beats. If my heart is beating faster, missing a couple of beats won’t bother me so much, she says. Not really.

72-OnTheRoad-9-25_044

“I’m going to turn down your pacemaker to 55. I’m going to turn it down to 50 from midnight to 8 am. So it might make you sleepy. A little sleepy. Not a lot. You might not even notice.” I’m in favor in anything that has a prayer of helping me sleep.

“Okay. That’s pretty much my natural — or was my natural — heart rate. I mean, before all of the surgery and the pacemaker and everything.”

“That’s the point. Try to integrate the pacemaker with your natural heart rhythm. Uses less battery power.”

Battery power. “What happens if the battery dies?”

“It won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it’s telling me it has 12.5 years of life left in it. Actually, you don’t have to worry about the battery. It’s the wires.”

“The wires?”

“Yes, the wires that run from the pacemaker to the parts of your heart. They could come loose.”

“Then my heart stops beating.”

“Not necessarily.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, it’s not quite that simple. There’s more to it than that. There are back-ups and fail safes and anyway, by the time you need a new battery, who knows what the technology will be?”

72-pacemaker_2

I actually find that comforting. I am one sick puppy. She gives me a souvenir pacemaker after I explain I’m a blogger and I like taking pictures of this stuff. It’s not exactly the same as my pacemaker, but it’s close. And there are no wires. But mine has wires and I can feel them through my skin. I can feel the wires, the little screws to which the wires are attached. All of it. I have no muscle or breast tissue there because I had a double mastectomy a couple of years before all this heart surgery … and I’m not a very big woman. But time to move on down the hall to the doctor himself.

“How are you?” asks my doctor.

“Fine,” I answer, skipping over the catastrophes of the past week. “Terrific.” I’m lying but, it’s easier that way.

Chit chatting, getting prescriptions. He tells me I need more exercise. I can’t argue with this. I do need more exercise, though I doubt it’ll happen. I’m anti-motivated toward exercise. It hurts. But I’m not going to tell him that. He wishes me a happy New Year. It’s Rosh HaShannah. Tonight.

Happy 5775. That is a lot of years.

And now, I’ve chased down the contractor. Firmed up a price. I was scared when the well went dry, but I think I was even more terrified waiting for that number from the well guys.

And winter is coming.