Udderly ridiculous

Udderly ridiculousI know, I know. Announce that I’m writing a new blog and then … don’t write.

Pretty lame. But sometimes blogging and living are at odds, and I highly recommend anyone live your life rather than blog when faced with the choice. One of the things I did over the weekend was work at my University’s state fair-like event, which included a “milk the cow” attraction — “now with lifelike teats!”  (No, it didn’t really say that, but I think they missed a great marketing opportunity there.)

I was happy to dust off the old camera and take a break from my station in Tech Town to visit the Ag Ave. Among other things there, I found this little girl fascinated with “milking” the cow, and an older woman also tentatively trying it out.  With so much of our lives “prepackaged” these days, I loved seeing these folks interested in experiencing the origins of something so ubiquitous as milk.

One of the things I hope to do more of in the coming months is photography. I used to be a half decent photographer, but I didn’t keep up with the technology. About a year ago I bought a used digital camera with all the bells and whistles, thanks to a generous friend who gave me a really good deal when she bought a new one. The camera’s been a little intimidating, I admit. I was master of the f-stop back in the day when I had my trsuty Minolta 35mm, and I could tell you all about film speed and aperature settings. One of the things I have learned about myself in recent years is that I really don’t like the feeling of once having been good at something and no  longer being able to do it very well. And in a very mature and reasonable reaction, when that happens I just stop doing whatever it was I used to be good at. Hence, the camera sitting on the table, the guitar sitting in its stand, and probably many more things that I won’t admit to myself. But I miss these past-times. I really do.

So here’s to photography. And who knows, maybe I’ll even pull out the guitar and start building up those blisters on my fingers again.

Foal

kids

At the very least, I hope I can maintain half the level of learning — and living —  as these youngsters were doing this weekend. Kids know how to live vigorously, no one needs to remind them.

UPDATED:  For you, Morgan. Now with more cow!

Bessie

Sometimes you have to reboot

I’ve been on a pretty lengthy hiatus from blogging. Sadly, I find myself neither reading them nor writing them. It’s not been a conscious decision to stop — my own inspiration for creating just sort of fizzled, and my time for reading what others are saying all but disappeared.

The past year (well, the couple of them, really) has been a roller coaster of emotions. There has been much good — time spent with distant family and good friends; finding a new job that I love; putting my toes in the ocean as well as walking on rocky mountain paths; laughing and loving with Unnamed Partner.  But as in everyone’s life, there has been sadness in the past 24 months as well: serious illnesses of parents and the passing of beloved family members and friends. Try as I might to pretend I am still the teenager I once was, the truth is that I’m now of an age where the reality of time cannot be ignored. Are there fewer days ahead than behind? Possibly. Or not. That’s kinda the point: who knows?

With that realization, I figure I can take one of two paths. Either I can moan about getting old and piss away my days thinking about what I shoulda/coulda/woulda done, or I can live each day to the fullest. Knowing, of course, that “to the fullest” means different things to different people. If, for example, you are at this moment looking forward to reading future posts about my new hang gliding obsession, prepare to be disappointed. Those who know me well know that my idea of living life to its fullest is much more likely to consist of an appreciation of the joys of a very long nap.

In short, what I aim to do is to reboot my blogging presence and write a series of essays for the next 12 months focused on life moving forward. As the tag line says, “Vigorous: growing well, as a plant.” Much better writers than me have taken on the task of appreciating the little things in life. But each life has its own little moments that deserve recognition. I hope to capture some of those here, no matter how modest they may be. Thanks for stopping in, and I hope you’ll join me on this journey in the coming months.