After It's Over

We had a good Thanksgiving. Only one child was there. The great nieces, and nephews, were at their other parents, as mandated by child custody decisions created by bureaucrats and attorneys. It's one of those possession things. Regardless of how it affects the children, the legalities of failed marriages plod along, and their absence is felt by all. 

Still, it was good. The feast was notable, and the deserts on one table would have made any bakery proud. Everyone was satiated, and everyone enjoyed the warmth of love that fills such gatherings. I completed the festivities with a nap that carried to dusk. 

Tonight, the stars are as brilliant as they can be with the sky glow of street lights, and the nearby city. The moon has a halo, which is the harbinger of future rain. It will settle in over the next few days, and the weather folks are forecasting wet, cold, dreary weather into next week. We've enjoyed weeks of what can only be described as fantastic weather, which like all good things, doesn't last forever. 

Christmas is the next big holiday. Merchants seem almost panicky with their deals, promises of wonderful products, and their attempt to create anxiety for not jumping on the deals they offer. I understand their attempts, but wonder what the inflation strapped public will do. It might not be that good of a season for merchants, and I wonder how they'll deal with their possible overstocked inventory. The tax man is coming, and anything in inventory is ripe for taxing. 

I'm changing my Medicare plan next year. I liked my medigap plan, but their notifications told me the extra $500 each month I can save by going to a PPO Advantage plan is necessary. Even if my cost reach the maximum amount, I'll still be ahead. That sucks, but it is what it is. Inflation has been cruel to my retirement, and I have to cut where I can. 

I think I'll put up the small strings of Christmas lights tomorrow. It's a short task, since there aren't that many lights, and the hooks I originally placed are still there. It adds to the season, and my wife loves the soft glow they give to the porch. It's pleasant to sit out there on a cold winter night, with a cup of coffee, some relatives, and good conversation. 

Sometime, over the next few weeks, we'll light the big pile of trees, and limb I cut. It's going to be a monster fire, and lawn chairs will be at a distance. We'll slowly move closer, since our plan it's lit on a cold night. We'll sit, converse, ruminate, and stare at the embers. For a short period of time, all will be good, and all will be peaceful. 

It's Never the Same

We're planning a family feast tomorrow. It's my in-laws, because that's all I have. All my grandparents, parent, and siblings are gone. There will be no more Thanksgivings together, and even though I'm part of my wife's family, it's not the same. I miss what will never be again, and every year it seems to be little harder to find the exuberance I once had for the holidays. It is what it is, but acceptance is no where near what Thanksgiving once was.  

I have to add that today is one of those wonderful days I remembered from years ago. There's an excitement in the air, the azure sky is laced with high clouds, and the high temperature will be in the mid sixties. Such days are a blessing, and I'm thankful.

Forty Five Reprobates

I was reading a news report where 45 people were arrested for participating in dog fighting. All were given a $5000 fine, and if convicted, face up to a year in jail, and a $4000 fine. I don't think that quite sends the message. My penalty would be placing all in a large cage, giving each one a knife, placing one key on the floor for unlocking the door, and telling them the one that escapes with the key is the only one to survive. When the last one finally leaves the cage, shoot them. I know that sounds harsh, but dog fighting is one of the most cruel of all "sports" created by humans. Those involved shouldn't be in society. 

Trees That Had To Go

We had a sweetgum tree that was well on the way out. At about 30 feet tall, only about 10 feet had leaves this year, and the very top to was obviously rotten. I took it down the day before yesterday. The trunk was about 18 inches in diameter, and the wood very hard. I'm guessing it could be rated as a hardwood, but from past experience, it's not something you want to place in a fireplace. It pops too much, and spreads embers. I dragged it in two pieces to the fire pile, and cut it into pieces easy to manage. 

Yesterday, with a yes vote by all with a vote, I took down a willow tree on the edge of the pond. It started as a nuisance, was chopped away many times, but was abandoned after it kept coming back. The last few years had shown it wasn't healthy, and some limbs were failing. 

Cutting this down was interesting. Due to the initial efforts to eradicate it, the resulting tree had nine trunks of varying sizes. The thickest was around 18 inches, and the thinnest around 6 inches. All sections were at least 20 long. With the pond down, getting around the tree was easy, and a tow strap attached to a side-by-side guaranteed those over the water wouldn't have to be fished out of the pond. 

The tree was dragged to the burn pile, and we started stacking what I cut yesterday. We'd pull a section up to the pile, I'd whittle it down to manageable pieces, and it was stacked. We finished today, and now have a huge pile of trees to burn. 

We haven't had much of any cold weather, but it will come. At that time, the pile will be lit, and we'll spend long evenings tending it, until it's all burned up. 

Sharing the Danger

    It was a typical Summer evening; temperature in the mid eighties, high humidity, and the twilight had faded away. I had set up all the advance warning signs, which involved the interstate and a major highway that merged. The changeable message board was a mile down the interstate to warn of the impeding lane closure, I was hooked to lowboy trailer, with a two man crew ready to start setting out barrels to close the lane. We were waiting for a hired police officer to help while we worked. We paid for them to help with dealing with traffic. A police car with flashing lights would slow traffic down, when nothing else would work. 

    I had already set up the lane closure on feeder highway, but hadn't tied it to the interstate. As we reached the interchange, we would complete the lane transition and go to work.

    He soon showed, I walked to his car, and explained what we had in mind. He said something at that time that always stuck in my mind: "They don't pay any more attention to you than they do a trash truck." He was right. Even though we had strobes on the vehicles, and an arrow board to direct traffic, too many drivers didn't pay attention to us any more than they did a trash truck. 

    I was glad to have him there. We didn't have the usual last minute lane changes by drivers. They respected the police car. They knew their uh-ohs would lead to something more than just an apology for scaring the crap out of us, and knocking down some barrels. 

    The officer stayed, until we pulled all the barrels to the shoulder before the 5:00 am morning rush started. I turned off the arrow board, and left it on the shoulder. A short trip down the interstate allowed me to swing the message board to where traffic couldn't see it. The morning crew would arrive later in the morning, and be ready to close the lanes after the rush was over. They had until 3:00 pm to pull the patches, replace the concrete, and achieve compressive strength before opening to traffic. The did so, and picked up all the traffic control devices. 

    It was a lot of preparation, and work, for three small patches in the paving. We lost money, but it was a district wide paving repair project, so we made it up on other sections. This finished our work in this area, and we soon moved a few dozen miles away to repair another section of highway.

    The officers words hit home. The strobe lights didn't demand the attention like what was on the police car. We were soon changing out strobe lights with high intensity light bars to alert drivers to the dangers ahead. We weren't dangerous, but their fellow drivers were; especially at night. Night is when the bars closed, and the drunks ventured home.