It is the time of year when the days grow cold and the nights even colder. The sun shines less and the dark of night stays longer. Each night it seems there are not enough covers or blankets on the bed. And in the morning, a walk outside startles you awake all the more. The air is crisp and dry. And everywhere you look, you see the trees, naked against the cold, with a carpet of fallen leaves all around. You see squirrels and birds picking through the remnants of summer's feast on the ground.
The air is crisp and dry. And as you breathe in the cold air, you smell that familiar smell of wood smoke. It is the time of year when the smell of wood smoke does not bring alarm, but evokes thoughts of warmth, of security, and of home. It is a smell that during the height of summer could generate fear and concern. But now, it is calm assurance that somewhere, someone is being warmed by burning wood.
All of our neighbors have a fire of some kind going. Some in fireplaces and some in wood stoves. We have a wood stove in a basement den and started using it about a week ago. The warmth of a fire in a cold house is something that just makes you feel good, all the way down to the bone.
I like starting the fire. Splitting some kindling, getting a small fire going at first, and then watching it until it is ready for bigger pieces of wood. And then as you build it up, you decide how much of a fire you want. So you add the wood in the right ways to get just enough warmth, a little warmer, hot, roaring, or "seventh level" as my son puts it, which is nearly painfully hot.
Our wood burning stove has solid doors that close. I wish it had a fire screen and we could leave the doors open while we sit in front of it. There is something peaceful and relaxing about watching the fire. I am not sure what it is, but we sat in front of the open doors last night and watched it for a while. I built it to be just enough warmth at the time. That way I felt comfortable with the doors open. A couple sparks dropped harmlessly onto the brick hearth, but in all, it was tame.
Usually, however, the doors remain closed during use. Each time we open the doors of the stove to check the fire or add wood, a plume of wood smoke comes out into the room. It then gets caught by the fan and drawn into the air conditioning system where we can smell it throughout the house. I like that. A little whiff of wood smoke is simply nice to have. Too much and we are probably in trouble.
So in this season of cold, if you are blessed with a fireplace or wood burning stove, you ought to get a fire going, watch the burning wood with someone you love, and smell the aroma of wood smoke.
Come to think of it, I have to go check the fire right now. It probably needs built up again. Of course, since I like doing that, its not really work. And I will get to smell the wood smoke.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Monday, December 11, 2006
Grass in the Alley
A few weeks ago I traveled "home" to have Thanksgiving with my parents. This was the first time my two teenage children have ever been to see my parents for Thanksgiving. This year is the first Thanksgiving in our new family, a blended family, one created from the remains of two families.
It was about two years ago that my ex-wife told me she was leaving. At that time she told me that she was taking both children with her. Things however turned out differently than she had planned. Her actions and inactions caught up with her and both kids made it clear they were staying with me.
It was also over two years ago that in another family over 1000 miles away told his wife and his daughters that he was leaving. This left a mother and three little girls alone while he went on to move in with another woman.
So there we were, two broken families, two lonely hurting people, and a total of five hurting children, fearful of the future and angry at the past and present. But we were over 1000 miles apart and we did not even know of the existence, or plight, of each other.
But God, in His mercy, brought these two lonely hurting people together, using technology to span the gap of distance and cross the bounds of our local areas. And in a quickness of time and events that defy natural explanation, we married after only a few months since first meeting in that first email exchange.
So here we are, over a year later, a blended family of seven total. Amy loving wife gladly agreed that we could have Thanksgiving with my parents. And instead of spending my time thinking of past Thanksgivings and my years growing up in that house, I couldn't help but think of the Thanksgivings to come. I look forward to those years to come with my dear wife and this zany blended family.
I took a walk outside with my son and as I walked around the house one morning, he went back inside to see his grandmother and I walked out to the back alley that comes down behind the one row of houses there. I walked up the alley studying how time has changed it. Once it was well graveled and well traveled. Now it was showing the obvious signs of a lack of traffic. This back alley once had many cars, pickups, and bicycles moving on it each day. But time has changed this alley and this whole community.
What I most noticed about the alley was the grass growing on it. As I thought on this, I remembered many of the times as a kid I repaired that alley and kept the grass at bay. I used to be seen often with a wheelbarrow and shovel going up and down the alley, fixing holes and fighting problems. Often I would even correct situations before they became a problem, like keeping the stream cleared out that flowed behind the alley.
As I thought about this a while, I decided that I don't really mind the grass growing on that back alley. While I know that if nothing is done, the grass could eventually overtake the gravel and the alley would fall into disrepair. But that grass covers the past and creates opportunities for others to make new repairs of their own. And these repairs were indeed being done. The upper end of the alley had a good load of new gravel on it. The stream behind the alley had been cleared to prevent it from overflowing into the alley, a frequent problem I fought for years. And many mistakes of the past had been covered, repaired, or simply replaced.
The slow march of time continues on, unstoppable and unabated by any of our efforts. But over time, we are constantly building the road of life ahead of us. And when the grass appears behind us, it is merely covering the road we have come so that we don't try to go back. That grass covers the old road of our past.
In my own life, my road had fallen into disrepair and the grass was catching up to me. I did not have much good road ahead of me. That was when I started to work on my road again in earnest. That was when my grass covered road came to an intersection with another grass covered road, the one my dear wife was on. And together we are building a new road and work diligently to ensure the grass does not grow up around our feet, but stays firmly behind us, where it belongs.
So as the grass grows on all these old roads, it covers the old life each of us walked in a blanket of green. It covers the mistakes, the holes, the rough spots, and even the smooth parts. I really don't mind the grass growing on our old roads. That grass holds the past in place behind us and make the road backwards impassable.
Our job each day is to keep our road ahead maintained. We are to patch the holes, smooth over the rough spots, and sometimes just enjoy the ride, whether bumpy or smooth. So we let the grass grow in the past, but we keep the road of today and tomorrow clear.
I am blessed because I don't have to work on my road alone. I have my wife and this wonderful, chaotic, and loving family all working together. I know that one by one, they will each set off to build roads of their own. I pray that I have shown them enough so they know how to build and maintain their road. And eventually, like my parents, it will be just the two of us, my wife and I, with wheelbarrows and shovels, together, still building and maintaining our shared road.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
It was about two years ago that my ex-wife told me she was leaving. At that time she told me that she was taking both children with her. Things however turned out differently than she had planned. Her actions and inactions caught up with her and both kids made it clear they were staying with me.
It was also over two years ago that in another family over 1000 miles away told his wife and his daughters that he was leaving. This left a mother and three little girls alone while he went on to move in with another woman.
So there we were, two broken families, two lonely hurting people, and a total of five hurting children, fearful of the future and angry at the past and present. But we were over 1000 miles apart and we did not even know of the existence, or plight, of each other.
But God, in His mercy, brought these two lonely hurting people together, using technology to span the gap of distance and cross the bounds of our local areas. And in a quickness of time and events that defy natural explanation, we married after only a few months since first meeting in that first email exchange.
So here we are, over a year later, a blended family of seven total. Amy loving wife gladly agreed that we could have Thanksgiving with my parents. And instead of spending my time thinking of past Thanksgivings and my years growing up in that house, I couldn't help but think of the Thanksgivings to come. I look forward to those years to come with my dear wife and this zany blended family.
I took a walk outside with my son and as I walked around the house one morning, he went back inside to see his grandmother and I walked out to the back alley that comes down behind the one row of houses there. I walked up the alley studying how time has changed it. Once it was well graveled and well traveled. Now it was showing the obvious signs of a lack of traffic. This back alley once had many cars, pickups, and bicycles moving on it each day. But time has changed this alley and this whole community.
What I most noticed about the alley was the grass growing on it. As I thought on this, I remembered many of the times as a kid I repaired that alley and kept the grass at bay. I used to be seen often with a wheelbarrow and shovel going up and down the alley, fixing holes and fighting problems. Often I would even correct situations before they became a problem, like keeping the stream cleared out that flowed behind the alley.
As I thought about this a while, I decided that I don't really mind the grass growing on that back alley. While I know that if nothing is done, the grass could eventually overtake the gravel and the alley would fall into disrepair. But that grass covers the past and creates opportunities for others to make new repairs of their own. And these repairs were indeed being done. The upper end of the alley had a good load of new gravel on it. The stream behind the alley had been cleared to prevent it from overflowing into the alley, a frequent problem I fought for years. And many mistakes of the past had been covered, repaired, or simply replaced.
The slow march of time continues on, unstoppable and unabated by any of our efforts. But over time, we are constantly building the road of life ahead of us. And when the grass appears behind us, it is merely covering the road we have come so that we don't try to go back. That grass covers the old road of our past.
In my own life, my road had fallen into disrepair and the grass was catching up to me. I did not have much good road ahead of me. That was when I started to work on my road again in earnest. That was when my grass covered road came to an intersection with another grass covered road, the one my dear wife was on. And together we are building a new road and work diligently to ensure the grass does not grow up around our feet, but stays firmly behind us, where it belongs.
So as the grass grows on all these old roads, it covers the old life each of us walked in a blanket of green. It covers the mistakes, the holes, the rough spots, and even the smooth parts. I really don't mind the grass growing on our old roads. That grass holds the past in place behind us and make the road backwards impassable.
Our job each day is to keep our road ahead maintained. We are to patch the holes, smooth over the rough spots, and sometimes just enjoy the ride, whether bumpy or smooth. So we let the grass grow in the past, but we keep the road of today and tomorrow clear.
I am blessed because I don't have to work on my road alone. I have my wife and this wonderful, chaotic, and loving family all working together. I know that one by one, they will each set off to build roads of their own. I pray that I have shown them enough so they know how to build and maintain their road. And eventually, like my parents, it will be just the two of us, my wife and I, with wheelbarrows and shovels, together, still building and maintaining our shared road.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Friday, December 01, 2006
Is Boba Fett Scottish?
It has been quite a while since I last wrote an update to this blog. Probably because this has been a very unusual summer and every time I thought of something to write, I had about 30 things come to mind all at once. So I kept putting it off. But finally, I need to write something. This one is from an event a few weeks ago, but still very much in my mind.
Some time ago I wrote of my first time going to a Renaissance Faire. It was strange, wonderful, and in general entertaining. Well, it had been over a year since I had been to one and my wife and I took the whole family over to Charlotte to the Carolina Renaissance Festival. This was the first time for my three step-daughters, but my own son and daughter were becoming old hands at it now.
Everyone decided to dress up a bit to get into the spirit of things. Well, everyone except me. My son wore the full length hooded cloak my wife made for him, my daughters all wore some kind of attire that reeked of antiquity, and even my wife wore a strange skirt and the blouse that she wouldn't typically wear (hey, its the Renaissance Festival, use your imagination). I wore blue jeans, tennis shoes, a tee shirt, and my "mosquito" shirt over that. I would try to describe the mosquito shirt, but you should really be drinking first to appreciate the description.
We all had a good time. We let the three older kids wander around a bit on their own while my wife and I kept the two younger ones busy. We saw some old favorites, the amazing candle carving guy, London Broil, and a few others. We also saw an act I had not seen before that was hilarious, the Tortuga Twins. We laughed at those three guys (yes 3, yes they call themselves the Tortuga Twins, no I do not know why) almost non-stop. They had to warn parents that as the day progressed, they got drunker and naughtier. We saw the first show of the day. The last must have been a trip.
Throughout the day we saw fools, knights, elves, sprites, pixies, knaves, and probably even a few highwaymen. We saw the regular assortment of corseted maids jiggling their bosoms as renaissance maids are known to do. We saw belly dancers (Jewels of the Caravan) and musicians. We saw gawkers and hawkers, lookers and hookers. We saw everything you can imagine seeing at a Renaissance Festival. And then we saw something I never expected to see at a Renaissance Festival.
I saw a storm trooper wearing a kilt.
Yes. A storm trooper wearing a kilt. I know its sounds like it, but I never touched the king's ale, I swear. It was a guy wearing a storm trooper helmet and upper armor, and a plaid kilt. For those of you with nothing better to do and are seriously AR, it was a green plaid with dark blue.
So I felt my day at the Renaissance Festival was complete. I saw the glimpses of the Renaissance and I saw glimpses of the Empire, all in the same day, all at the same place.
Geek heaven don't ya think?
Well, a couple of weeks later I chaperoned one of my daughter's class trips to the very same Renaissance Festival. I knew that nothing could outdo seeing Boba McFett, but I did see something different.
There it was. About 10 feet tall. An Ent.
Yes ladies and gentlemen, the Ents came marching one by one. Now if any of you do not know what an Ent is, well, its a walking tree and I don't know why you continued to read this far if you did not know as this entire thing is... well... geeky... in all aspects. And geeks know what Ents are.
Ah, Renaissance Festivals and Faires. Never is man privileged to see more jiggling cleavage and not have his wife drag him out of the place than at the Faire. Not that I was looking though. I just bring it up to make a point. Really.
Eating cooked meat off a stick or right off the bone. Speaking in pseudo-Old English with really bad accents. Spending too much money. And walking through mud.
Yeah. Simply awesome.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Some time ago I wrote of my first time going to a Renaissance Faire. It was strange, wonderful, and in general entertaining. Well, it had been over a year since I had been to one and my wife and I took the whole family over to Charlotte to the Carolina Renaissance Festival. This was the first time for my three step-daughters, but my own son and daughter were becoming old hands at it now.
Everyone decided to dress up a bit to get into the spirit of things. Well, everyone except me. My son wore the full length hooded cloak my wife made for him, my daughters all wore some kind of attire that reeked of antiquity, and even my wife wore a strange skirt and the blouse that she wouldn't typically wear (hey, its the Renaissance Festival, use your imagination). I wore blue jeans, tennis shoes, a tee shirt, and my "mosquito" shirt over that. I would try to describe the mosquito shirt, but you should really be drinking first to appreciate the description.
We all had a good time. We let the three older kids wander around a bit on their own while my wife and I kept the two younger ones busy. We saw some old favorites, the amazing candle carving guy, London Broil, and a few others. We also saw an act I had not seen before that was hilarious, the Tortuga Twins. We laughed at those three guys (yes 3, yes they call themselves the Tortuga Twins, no I do not know why) almost non-stop. They had to warn parents that as the day progressed, they got drunker and naughtier. We saw the first show of the day. The last must have been a trip.
Throughout the day we saw fools, knights, elves, sprites, pixies, knaves, and probably even a few highwaymen. We saw the regular assortment of corseted maids jiggling their bosoms as renaissance maids are known to do. We saw belly dancers (Jewels of the Caravan) and musicians. We saw gawkers and hawkers, lookers and hookers. We saw everything you can imagine seeing at a Renaissance Festival. And then we saw something I never expected to see at a Renaissance Festival.
I saw a storm trooper wearing a kilt.
Yes. A storm trooper wearing a kilt. I know its sounds like it, but I never touched the king's ale, I swear. It was a guy wearing a storm trooper helmet and upper armor, and a plaid kilt. For those of you with nothing better to do and are seriously AR, it was a green plaid with dark blue.
So I felt my day at the Renaissance Festival was complete. I saw the glimpses of the Renaissance and I saw glimpses of the Empire, all in the same day, all at the same place.
Geek heaven don't ya think?
Well, a couple of weeks later I chaperoned one of my daughter's class trips to the very same Renaissance Festival. I knew that nothing could outdo seeing Boba McFett, but I did see something different.
There it was. About 10 feet tall. An Ent.
Yes ladies and gentlemen, the Ents came marching one by one. Now if any of you do not know what an Ent is, well, its a walking tree and I don't know why you continued to read this far if you did not know as this entire thing is... well... geeky... in all aspects. And geeks know what Ents are.
Ah, Renaissance Festivals and Faires. Never is man privileged to see more jiggling cleavage and not have his wife drag him out of the place than at the Faire. Not that I was looking though. I just bring it up to make a point. Really.
Eating cooked meat off a stick or right off the bone. Speaking in pseudo-Old English with really bad accents. Spending too much money. And walking through mud.
Yeah. Simply awesome.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Friday, August 25, 2006
School Starts!
At long last school starts today in our little neck of the woods. It has been an interesting summer being home every day with all these kids, all the mess, and all the activity. I must say it has been fun, full, and noisy. To some people I am sure the chaos, whining, groaning, driving, running, fetching, forgetting, spontaneous insanity, and hormonal meltdowns that accompany raising a house full of kids from teens to pre-k would be enough to make you want to cover your ears and run screaming into the forest to hide until fall. Well I only did that a couple of times.
They found me both times.
But now school is starting and all the kids are headed back to school. Even the little one starts preschool in a week or so, and she has already started her daily visits to her grandmother and grandfather. So this morning my wife is off to her school to teach (they started a couple of weeks ago), the little one is off to see grandma, and my three bus riders are on their way to school.
So here I sit in the quiet house ready to start the day, the noise and chaos are off to their daily destinations. Now I can work.
It's funny, but the first thing I want to do is turn on music to break the quiet and dispel the urge to return to bed and sleep an extra hour. I have been looking forward to this day for some weeks now.
So one may ask, do I now miss the noise of a full house?
Are you crazy? Give me a couple weeks and I am sure I will miss it a bit. But for now, I want to enjoy the quiet time.
This is not to be considered in any way, shape, or form that I do not love each of them, because I certainly do. But I really needed a break before I would break.
One day, all this will just be memory. All the kids will be gone and each summer day will be just my wife and I. And yet the chaotic echoes of raising these precious children will bounce around in our heads all of our days. We must do the best we can now because the time is short.
But for now, maybe I will sleep that extra hour.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
They found me both times.
But now school is starting and all the kids are headed back to school. Even the little one starts preschool in a week or so, and she has already started her daily visits to her grandmother and grandfather. So this morning my wife is off to her school to teach (they started a couple of weeks ago), the little one is off to see grandma, and my three bus riders are on their way to school.
So here I sit in the quiet house ready to start the day, the noise and chaos are off to their daily destinations. Now I can work.
It's funny, but the first thing I want to do is turn on music to break the quiet and dispel the urge to return to bed and sleep an extra hour. I have been looking forward to this day for some weeks now.
So one may ask, do I now miss the noise of a full house?
Are you crazy? Give me a couple weeks and I am sure I will miss it a bit. But for now, I want to enjoy the quiet time.
This is not to be considered in any way, shape, or form that I do not love each of them, because I certainly do. But I really needed a break before I would break.
One day, all this will just be memory. All the kids will be gone and each summer day will be just my wife and I. And yet the chaotic echoes of raising these precious children will bounce around in our heads all of our days. We must do the best we can now because the time is short.
But for now, maybe I will sleep that extra hour.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Saturday, August 05, 2006
Brand Names
This morning I had to sharpen the blades on my riding mower. I don't know how to take the mower deck off so I had to take the blades off while attached. But the deck was too close to the ground to get in there. It was too heavy to lift up by hand and put on blocks. So I needed to get my car jack.
Now it occurred to me that what I was doing seemed just kind of funny. Well it did to me, maybe not anyone else, but I smiled just thinking about the oddness of the brand name situation.
I was jacking up my John Deere riding mower using my Volvo jack. I used my Craftsmen socket wrenches to take the blades off the mower and sharpen them on my Black and Decker bench grinder.
And now I am sitting here drinking Lipton iced tea I made, out of a Coca-Cola glass, typing on an Acer laptop, looking at school supplies bearing Crayola, Staples, Expo, Bic, TI, and other brand names.
We are inundated with brand names every day. Some have even come into everyday English to be used as a common name for something. I go to a restaurant and order a Coke. I may get Coca-Cola, Pepsi, or even RC (only in the South it seems). I at times use a crescent wrench to remove a bolt, even though it is an adjustable wrench made by some other manufacturer. I take a tylenol though it bears the Equate brand.
Generically, inline skates are all called Rollerblades, no matter who manufactures them. Most times people refer to cellophane tape as Scotch tape, regardless of the manufacturer. How about all those Sharpies? What about those jeans, are they really Levi's? And the list goes on.
Well, I think I will just eat some dark chocolate M&M's and forget the whole thing. I have to go Google something anyway.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Now it occurred to me that what I was doing seemed just kind of funny. Well it did to me, maybe not anyone else, but I smiled just thinking about the oddness of the brand name situation.
I was jacking up my John Deere riding mower using my Volvo jack. I used my Craftsmen socket wrenches to take the blades off the mower and sharpen them on my Black and Decker bench grinder.
And now I am sitting here drinking Lipton iced tea I made, out of a Coca-Cola glass, typing on an Acer laptop, looking at school supplies bearing Crayola, Staples, Expo, Bic, TI, and other brand names.
We are inundated with brand names every day. Some have even come into everyday English to be used as a common name for something. I go to a restaurant and order a Coke. I may get Coca-Cola, Pepsi, or even RC (only in the South it seems). I at times use a crescent wrench to remove a bolt, even though it is an adjustable wrench made by some other manufacturer. I take a tylenol though it bears the Equate brand.
Generically, inline skates are all called Rollerblades, no matter who manufactures them. Most times people refer to cellophane tape as Scotch tape, regardless of the manufacturer. How about all those Sharpies? What about those jeans, are they really Levi's? And the list goes on.
Well, I think I will just eat some dark chocolate M&M's and forget the whole thing. I have to go Google something anyway.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Bent Nails and Old Hammers
I have not had anything to post during this summer season. I don't know why. Either there is nothing noteworthy to talk about, or there were too many things to talk about and I couldn't choose just a few. But today is different. There was nothing noteworthy, just a memory. It was just a reflection is all, but a good one.
Today, my wife and I went down to the pasture to see the horses. We have been busy for a few days and had not checked on them in about a week. They have more than enough pasture to graze in and plenty of water so there was no concern over them having those things. And they were still plump as before. Apparently they eat well.
So we walked back up the hill to the barn and saw that a fence on one of the run-ins had been damaged. Apparently one or more of the horses decided they wanted to nibble something in the run-in and loosed a couple of the fence boards. Actually one was completely broken in two.
I retrieved the hammer from the barn and pulled the nails from the boards. I wanted to make sure we did not have any loose nails on the ground that could injure a horse's hoof. I could not find the box of nails to put the board back up. So I did what anyone else would do in my situation, I straightened the bent nails so I could re-use them.
Now to some, that may seem mundane, and not even worth mentioning. But to me, I immediately was catapaulted back to my childhood. I remember well the day I was busy hammering some nails into a pile of boards when I was about 8 or 9 and I bent the few nails I had. I don't remember what I was making, but I remember what happened next.
My father would pay a local black man to cut the grass. He was the husband of the woman that my mother hired to be a nanny at times for me and my brother. They were Reuben and Rose Brown and I have nothing but fond memories of them both.
Now Rose is worthy of an entire post of her own, so I will just stick to my little side story about Reuben, or rather "Son" as he was known by most.
"Son" was cutting our grass and saw me on the concrete steps of the porch. He took a break and walked over and in his own distinct way of talking he asked "what'cha doin' ovah heyah?" I explained my plight. I was not finished and I ran out of nails.
Son said "why that ain't no problem boy, looky heyah". And with that Son picked up my hammer and proceeded to straighten a couple bent nails. He looked at me and said "see, ya got all ya need, ya just got ta fix em a bit". Son sat there with me for a few more minutes and corrected my bent nail straightening skills. Then he wiped the sweat from his brow and went back to cutting grass in the summer sun.
I managed to finish my project, whatever it was, and I brought Son out some cold water to drink when he was finished cutting the grass.
This story is really nothing special. Its just about some bent nails and a little boy. But I will always remember Son Brown every time I straighten a bent nail. And come to think of it, that is good enough reason as any to write this down.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Today, my wife and I went down to the pasture to see the horses. We have been busy for a few days and had not checked on them in about a week. They have more than enough pasture to graze in and plenty of water so there was no concern over them having those things. And they were still plump as before. Apparently they eat well.
So we walked back up the hill to the barn and saw that a fence on one of the run-ins had been damaged. Apparently one or more of the horses decided they wanted to nibble something in the run-in and loosed a couple of the fence boards. Actually one was completely broken in two.
I retrieved the hammer from the barn and pulled the nails from the boards. I wanted to make sure we did not have any loose nails on the ground that could injure a horse's hoof. I could not find the box of nails to put the board back up. So I did what anyone else would do in my situation, I straightened the bent nails so I could re-use them.
Now to some, that may seem mundane, and not even worth mentioning. But to me, I immediately was catapaulted back to my childhood. I remember well the day I was busy hammering some nails into a pile of boards when I was about 8 or 9 and I bent the few nails I had. I don't remember what I was making, but I remember what happened next.
My father would pay a local black man to cut the grass. He was the husband of the woman that my mother hired to be a nanny at times for me and my brother. They were Reuben and Rose Brown and I have nothing but fond memories of them both.
Now Rose is worthy of an entire post of her own, so I will just stick to my little side story about Reuben, or rather "Son" as he was known by most.
"Son" was cutting our grass and saw me on the concrete steps of the porch. He took a break and walked over and in his own distinct way of talking he asked "what'cha doin' ovah heyah?" I explained my plight. I was not finished and I ran out of nails.
Son said "why that ain't no problem boy, looky heyah". And with that Son picked up my hammer and proceeded to straighten a couple bent nails. He looked at me and said "see, ya got all ya need, ya just got ta fix em a bit". Son sat there with me for a few more minutes and corrected my bent nail straightening skills. Then he wiped the sweat from his brow and went back to cutting grass in the summer sun.
I managed to finish my project, whatever it was, and I brought Son out some cold water to drink when he was finished cutting the grass.
This story is really nothing special. Its just about some bent nails and a little boy. But I will always remember Son Brown every time I straighten a bent nail. And come to think of it, that is good enough reason as any to write this down.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Monday, May 08, 2006
Dragons and Cats
At the prompting of my daughter, I just read the book Eragon. What a fantastic read. My hat is off to Christopher Paolini. This young man did a fantastic job. Reading through Eragon had me thinking about my dragons, Elves, Dwarves, my own writing projects, and my cats.
Cats? Yes cats.
The descriptions of the dragon Saphira resting, or her lithe movements, often made me think of my cats. And as I would read, I would often see one of the cats slinking around, coiled up to nap, jumping up to the tops of furniture, or otherwise being... a cat. So it was a mental image reinforced by what was going on around me.
But also in the back of my mind were thoughts of my own writing projects and how different they were than this fantasy. Now my projects are fantasy works, but not on the scale or in the same likeness of these kinds of tales. And that made me stop and think.
How does one write a complete book?
I mean, I know the basics and I know how to craft a story line so that it can flow without significant interruption, and with enough insight to the reader to guide them along the way. But knowing and doing are two distinct things. And distractions loom always overhead.
Somehow I need to actually complete something in order to get to the next thing. That is not as simple as it sounds. I am easily distracted and I have a family. But in writing, I can think out things in ways to explore the human condition vicariously. Enduring hardships and enjoying adventure through the actions of my fictional characters.
I guess you could say its kind of a way to explore and ease stress from the safety and comfort of my own home. Or its just something to do. Or perhaps, just perhaps, it is because these stories want to be read. At any rate, I will continue on, struggling, as it were, to complete them.
So as I think on these things, and ponder how to get back on track on my own writing, I realize I have one more task to do today. I must clean the cat's litter box. Not a pleasant task by any stretch of the imagination. But at least it is only cats. Imagine the mess two dragons would make in a litter box.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Cats? Yes cats.
The descriptions of the dragon Saphira resting, or her lithe movements, often made me think of my cats. And as I would read, I would often see one of the cats slinking around, coiled up to nap, jumping up to the tops of furniture, or otherwise being... a cat. So it was a mental image reinforced by what was going on around me.
But also in the back of my mind were thoughts of my own writing projects and how different they were than this fantasy. Now my projects are fantasy works, but not on the scale or in the same likeness of these kinds of tales. And that made me stop and think.
How does one write a complete book?
I mean, I know the basics and I know how to craft a story line so that it can flow without significant interruption, and with enough insight to the reader to guide them along the way. But knowing and doing are two distinct things. And distractions loom always overhead.
Somehow I need to actually complete something in order to get to the next thing. That is not as simple as it sounds. I am easily distracted and I have a family. But in writing, I can think out things in ways to explore the human condition vicariously. Enduring hardships and enjoying adventure through the actions of my fictional characters.
I guess you could say its kind of a way to explore and ease stress from the safety and comfort of my own home. Or its just something to do. Or perhaps, just perhaps, it is because these stories want to be read. At any rate, I will continue on, struggling, as it were, to complete them.
So as I think on these things, and ponder how to get back on track on my own writing, I realize I have one more task to do today. I must clean the cat's litter box. Not a pleasant task by any stretch of the imagination. But at least it is only cats. Imagine the mess two dragons would make in a litter box.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Thursday, April 13, 2006
When "Red Rover, Red Rover" Goes Horribly Wrong
A typical youth group night with the exception that the guys are separated from the girls for this specific lesson. So I am outside with the other adults and the guys from the youth group where they can turn the most mundane of games into a potentially dangerous adventure. Such is the way with guys.
Anyway, there we are, trying to find ways of amusing ourselves when we decide to use a long piece of rope for tug-of-war. Once I landed on my back on the pavement, and once I had some skin shredded off the back of my hand from the rope burn (not to mention my fingers were numb for about 10 minutes). But all in all, things were going well.
Then we decided to get silly and play Red Rover. Now if you are somehow unfamiliar with this child's game it is just a fun game with a little rhyme in it. Two teams line up across from each other and the members lock hands. Then the "captain" of one team says "Red Rover, Red Rover, send Billy right over" (or Mary or Tommy or Jenny or whoever). Then that person leaves their team and runs directly at the line of the other team in an attempt to break the hand-hold of two people. If they succeed in getting through, then they go back to their team and take one of the broken line with them. If they don't succeed they join that team.
And so it goes. There are variations but I think you get the idea.
Now when we were kids, we would haul butt over to the other side in an attempt to slam our way past. But we were small then. Now when you have 14-17 year old guys playing, you have more mass. Physics starts to become a concern.
So there they were. One team to my right standing in the open grass. The other team to my left, standing in the open grass about 16 feet from a brick wall. I bet you can see where this is going.
The challenge was on. Guys like a challenge and typically play with enthusiasm when physical violence is involved -- they have a saying in youth group that "its all fun and games until someone gets hurt, then its hilarious". So they played a while and then one of the other guys who is already out of youth group but was at church decided to play.
By this time there was enough testosterone in the air to paint the parking lot with it.
So the newcomer gets called over and he runs straight at the line and goes for a stronger pair instead of an easier target. And he runs right into their interlocked hands which fling open at his mighty rushing force. Now remember that wall that was 16 feet away? It was still there and a speeding teenager can cover 16 feet faster than they wished.
Yep, he smacked head first into the brick wall. He literally ran into a brick wall. We all heard the thud when he hit. And then he rebounded back and down to the ground he went. Ouch is an understatement. Now I have to admit, I ran into a masonry wall before and when I did, I ended up with 16 stitches. So I know it hurts.
So there he lay, the hapless victim of "Red Rover". Everyone rushed over to see the damage. One minor scrape on the chin, a small cut on the cheek, a large swollen and cut bump above one eye, and and umistakable brick imprint over his eyebrow. Despite the circumstances, he was doing quite well. He was hurt to be sure, but alert and able to answer questions. It did take a while to get up though.
He did hurt his wrist as well as he tried to stop himself. In the end, he went to the hospital to have the wrist looked at. That is when they decided to put in 3 stitches above the eye, set the right broken wrist in a cast, and set the left broken arm in a cast up to the elbow.
Is there a point to this story? No. It is just a description of what happens when "Red Rover" goes horribly wrong.
Our final advice to our friend was to tell everyone who asks "you should see the other guy!"
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Anyway, there we are, trying to find ways of amusing ourselves when we decide to use a long piece of rope for tug-of-war. Once I landed on my back on the pavement, and once I had some skin shredded off the back of my hand from the rope burn (not to mention my fingers were numb for about 10 minutes). But all in all, things were going well.
Then we decided to get silly and play Red Rover. Now if you are somehow unfamiliar with this child's game it is just a fun game with a little rhyme in it. Two teams line up across from each other and the members lock hands. Then the "captain" of one team says "Red Rover, Red Rover, send Billy right over" (or Mary or Tommy or Jenny or whoever). Then that person leaves their team and runs directly at the line of the other team in an attempt to break the hand-hold of two people. If they succeed in getting through, then they go back to their team and take one of the broken line with them. If they don't succeed they join that team.
And so it goes. There are variations but I think you get the idea.
Now when we were kids, we would haul butt over to the other side in an attempt to slam our way past. But we were small then. Now when you have 14-17 year old guys playing, you have more mass. Physics starts to become a concern.
So there they were. One team to my right standing in the open grass. The other team to my left, standing in the open grass about 16 feet from a brick wall. I bet you can see where this is going.
The challenge was on. Guys like a challenge and typically play with enthusiasm when physical violence is involved -- they have a saying in youth group that "its all fun and games until someone gets hurt, then its hilarious". So they played a while and then one of the other guys who is already out of youth group but was at church decided to play.
By this time there was enough testosterone in the air to paint the parking lot with it.
So the newcomer gets called over and he runs straight at the line and goes for a stronger pair instead of an easier target. And he runs right into their interlocked hands which fling open at his mighty rushing force. Now remember that wall that was 16 feet away? It was still there and a speeding teenager can cover 16 feet faster than they wished.
Yep, he smacked head first into the brick wall. He literally ran into a brick wall. We all heard the thud when he hit. And then he rebounded back and down to the ground he went. Ouch is an understatement. Now I have to admit, I ran into a masonry wall before and when I did, I ended up with 16 stitches. So I know it hurts.
So there he lay, the hapless victim of "Red Rover". Everyone rushed over to see the damage. One minor scrape on the chin, a small cut on the cheek, a large swollen and cut bump above one eye, and and umistakable brick imprint over his eyebrow. Despite the circumstances, he was doing quite well. He was hurt to be sure, but alert and able to answer questions. It did take a while to get up though.
He did hurt his wrist as well as he tried to stop himself. In the end, he went to the hospital to have the wrist looked at. That is when they decided to put in 3 stitches above the eye, set the right broken wrist in a cast, and set the left broken arm in a cast up to the elbow.
Is there a point to this story? No. It is just a description of what happens when "Red Rover" goes horribly wrong.
Our final advice to our friend was to tell everyone who asks "you should see the other guy!"
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Monday, March 27, 2006
Sense of Accomplishment
There is nothing like having a sense of accomplishment. It feels good to know you got something done. It seems all too often I am involved in activities that have long drawn out paths and uncertain endings. Many times changes in priorities can cause an activity to be put on hold or eliminated completely. But everyone needs to complete something or they will go mad.
Last week, I completed several work items (finally) and I sent them off. I also finished a couple minor projects at home. So I was on a roll. While I still have vast amounts of unfinished work (paying work and home stuff), I am moving forward again. But I did something Saturday that kind of topped everything.
We have a small field that had not been mowed in several years. There were thickets of briars and even some small trees popping up. We plan on using that field as a paddock and I knew it needed to be cut soon before it got completely out of hand. The field also has a gully and a fairly steep side, so I knew it would not be easy cutting it. Parts of it were so bad I could not walk into it with the chainsaw to take out some of the bigger young trees.
So Saturday I fired up the tractor, got the Bush Hog in full spin, and started into the field. I got scratched by more briars than I can count. I cut down more saplings than I care to think about. And then I had to head down the steep back side into the gully. That was the most disconcerting part. Several times in the gully the mower got hung up. I finally had to put the tractor into four wheel drive to finish it out.
Once I cut my way into the thickest part, I was able to come in with the chainsaw and take out the bigger saplings. And then it was back in the saddle to finish it up. This was where I also realized that in four wheel drive, I could mow up that steep hill. That was cool.
As I was cutting through all this entanglement, I began to see order come out of chaos. I was making progress and it felt good. It was a tangible result to my efforts and something I have found, every man needs now and then. Progress and accomplishment are good.
Well after I finished, I drove the tractor back up to the top of the hill on the way back to the house. I had to stop and just survey my work. It was decent but not perfect. I still need to get closer to the fence line and I have some more finish work to do, but to see that field cleared was a very welcome sense of accomplishment.
Yes I was having fun. Yes I feel good about getting something done.
But why did I write this post? I suppose just so I could share about cutting the field. However I seriously have to say that the feeling of accomplishment was something I needed and I think most people do need every so often. Too often we feel stymied by the world, like we have no effect on anything. Too often we feel powerless and even sometimes just like we can't keep up with life.
I know I will have to cut that field regularly now, but I took on a task, worked at it, had a result, and I got that oh so important sense of accomplishment. I think it is important for everyone to know that feeling every now and then.
And now you have finished reading this post. You undertook its reading and you completed it. Doesn't that feel good? :-)
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Last week, I completed several work items (finally) and I sent them off. I also finished a couple minor projects at home. So I was on a roll. While I still have vast amounts of unfinished work (paying work and home stuff), I am moving forward again. But I did something Saturday that kind of topped everything.
We have a small field that had not been mowed in several years. There were thickets of briars and even some small trees popping up. We plan on using that field as a paddock and I knew it needed to be cut soon before it got completely out of hand. The field also has a gully and a fairly steep side, so I knew it would not be easy cutting it. Parts of it were so bad I could not walk into it with the chainsaw to take out some of the bigger young trees.
So Saturday I fired up the tractor, got the Bush Hog in full spin, and started into the field. I got scratched by more briars than I can count. I cut down more saplings than I care to think about. And then I had to head down the steep back side into the gully. That was the most disconcerting part. Several times in the gully the mower got hung up. I finally had to put the tractor into four wheel drive to finish it out.
Once I cut my way into the thickest part, I was able to come in with the chainsaw and take out the bigger saplings. And then it was back in the saddle to finish it up. This was where I also realized that in four wheel drive, I could mow up that steep hill. That was cool.
As I was cutting through all this entanglement, I began to see order come out of chaos. I was making progress and it felt good. It was a tangible result to my efforts and something I have found, every man needs now and then. Progress and accomplishment are good.
Well after I finished, I drove the tractor back up to the top of the hill on the way back to the house. I had to stop and just survey my work. It was decent but not perfect. I still need to get closer to the fence line and I have some more finish work to do, but to see that field cleared was a very welcome sense of accomplishment.
Yes I was having fun. Yes I feel good about getting something done.
But why did I write this post? I suppose just so I could share about cutting the field. However I seriously have to say that the feeling of accomplishment was something I needed and I think most people do need every so often. Too often we feel stymied by the world, like we have no effect on anything. Too often we feel powerless and even sometimes just like we can't keep up with life.
I know I will have to cut that field regularly now, but I took on a task, worked at it, had a result, and I got that oh so important sense of accomplishment. I think it is important for everyone to know that feeling every now and then.
And now you have finished reading this post. You undertook its reading and you completed it. Doesn't that feel good? :-)
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Bad Things and Contradictory Prayers
Ever have bad things happen to you? Ever been involved with bad things and contradictory prayers? I have. Contradictory prayers are ones where you pray for A and someone else prays for B and A and B are totally opposite.
It is too easy to presume that if something happens or does not happens then it has something to do with one prayer have precedence over the other. I do not think the result has to necessarily be dependent on whether or not one person's prayers are more correct or stronger than anothers. I also do not think that God is so casual in answering prayer. What I do see amazes me.
How does God decide what to do in contradictory prayers? God does not pick and choose to answer prayers at random and He does not merely look at contradictory prayers and try to deal with them as they come. Instead God works in each of us all the time. His work is so complete in us we have no idea it happens and cannot often see the result until after the fact. It is not that God reacts to our contradicting prayers. It is that God works through our lives and causes us to pray the prayers we each pray.
Now clearly, if you are praying only for yourself, there is a good chance your heart might not be in the right place for that prayer. Usually I have found that when you are praying for others is when your heart is right. But that does not preclude prayers for deliverance and self. I can see where it looks like God answers one person's prayer and not another's and it can be confusing. That is until we realize we are not God, can never be, and must not try to contain God in human reasoning.
What I realize now is that I know for an absolute fact of the universe (as given to me through the Holy Spirit in my daily walk with Him) is that God allows terrible things to happen to people at times, not to reward some and punish others, but to accomplish His will. It is part of His discipline of those whom He loves.
This disciplining process can be very thorough and will remove sin and impediments to our walk with Christ. But we don't necessarily like discipline. Consider Hebrews 12:11
Through all of my discipline and personal experience, God showed me many errors I had. I have been refined as we all are being refined in our lives. And through that refining fire I came to see passages of the Bible that I never saw before. Not because I had not read them, but because I could not see until then. I know there are still some scales on my eyes, and that is why I seek God daily and read and absorb the Scriptures not from a standpoint of my own foolishness, but of God's purpose, love, justice, and mercy.
I feel that it was needed to be said: not all things can be fixed. Some things God destroys. But God does not leave holes in the lives of His followers. God replaces what is destroyed so that He may fill it with something better that suits His purposes.
So then, on the other side of those experiences, we can look back and say "it was terrible, I never want to go through that again, I will do anything and everything to avoid it in the future, but yet I know that God is in control". That is when God meets us at the place He brings us to.
Think of Hebrews 12:7
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
It is too easy to presume that if something happens or does not happens then it has something to do with one prayer have precedence over the other. I do not think the result has to necessarily be dependent on whether or not one person's prayers are more correct or stronger than anothers. I also do not think that God is so casual in answering prayer. What I do see amazes me.
How does God decide what to do in contradictory prayers? God does not pick and choose to answer prayers at random and He does not merely look at contradictory prayers and try to deal with them as they come. Instead God works in each of us all the time. His work is so complete in us we have no idea it happens and cannot often see the result until after the fact. It is not that God reacts to our contradicting prayers. It is that God works through our lives and causes us to pray the prayers we each pray.
Now clearly, if you are praying only for yourself, there is a good chance your heart might not be in the right place for that prayer. Usually I have found that when you are praying for others is when your heart is right. But that does not preclude prayers for deliverance and self. I can see where it looks like God answers one person's prayer and not another's and it can be confusing. That is until we realize we are not God, can never be, and must not try to contain God in human reasoning.
What I realize now is that I know for an absolute fact of the universe (as given to me through the Holy Spirit in my daily walk with Him) is that God allows terrible things to happen to people at times, not to reward some and punish others, but to accomplish His will. It is part of His discipline of those whom He loves.
This disciplining process can be very thorough and will remove sin and impediments to our walk with Christ. But we don't necessarily like discipline. Consider Hebrews 12:11
No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.So when a person can look at a situation and see beyond their own hurt and realize that God is not punishing them, but everything that happens is somehow "sequenced" as part of a bigger plan of God, then we can see Him at work. That is when we began to look with eyes that we did not have previously.
Through all of my discipline and personal experience, God showed me many errors I had. I have been refined as we all are being refined in our lives. And through that refining fire I came to see passages of the Bible that I never saw before. Not because I had not read them, but because I could not see until then. I know there are still some scales on my eyes, and that is why I seek God daily and read and absorb the Scriptures not from a standpoint of my own foolishness, but of God's purpose, love, justice, and mercy.
I feel that it was needed to be said: not all things can be fixed. Some things God destroys. But God does not leave holes in the lives of His followers. God replaces what is destroyed so that He may fill it with something better that suits His purposes.
So then, on the other side of those experiences, we can look back and say "it was terrible, I never want to go through that again, I will do anything and everything to avoid it in the future, but yet I know that God is in control". That is when God meets us at the place He brings us to.
Think of Hebrews 12:7
It is for discipline that you endure; God deals with you as with sons; for what son is there whom his father does not discipline?
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Friday, March 03, 2006
Morning Walks
I have recently become a remote tele-commuter and I work out of my home. I am still new to this and I found that I was having difficulty staying awake around mid-morning. My wife suggested that I take a morning walk to wake me up before I start work. Well, this post is about my walk this morning.
When I stepped outside this morning, it was still quite chilly and I had my camo jacket and camo hat on. I zipped up my jacket all the way and started off the back deck. As I walked down the gravel driveway, our coon hound Millie got up from a nap and started walking with me. We walked past the front of the house and headed toward the back of the farm.
Millie would walk ahead and frequently stop and look back. Such is the nature of a dog and a mystery why God created such an animal and friend of man. She was never far from me. Her nose was in constant motion as she sniffed out things that I did not know were there. She would criss-cross my path and go bounding into the woods after something she flushed out.
I continued across the creek and into a well overgrown field. We plan on renovating this field for use as a pasture and I just wanted to take a look. After I walked to the middle of it, I was in chest high briars and brambles. I had not seen Millie for about 10 minutes. As I started down the hill toward the creek again, there she was.
Exiting the field was as dangerous as entering it with all the briars and undergrowth. But soon I was in the woods again, heading back toward the creek. I crossed the first fork of this little creek and stopped in the middle of a clearing. I could hear the rustle of leaves everywhere and hear so many different bird calls I could not identify very many of them.
A little further on and I heard the barking of many squirrels and more birds. I stood there in my own silence listening to the hustle and bustle of woodland life going on around me. I would have stayed there for hours except I was supposed to be starting work soon. So I reluctantly started back toward the house. Step by step I listened intently to the sounds around me and crossed the second fork of the creek.
I had been treated to a woodland symphony with no meter and no key. What would seem to many as disorganized and sporadic calls and chirps, to me was a composition by the One who created it all. No melody to hum, no beat to tap a foot to, but a music that reaches directly to the soul.
I finally got back to the house and rejoined the world. I took my shower, powered up my computer, and went to work. But in my head I heard the birds and squirrels singing their part of the grand score.
I like these morning walks. Today is a good day.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
When I stepped outside this morning, it was still quite chilly and I had my camo jacket and camo hat on. I zipped up my jacket all the way and started off the back deck. As I walked down the gravel driveway, our coon hound Millie got up from a nap and started walking with me. We walked past the front of the house and headed toward the back of the farm.
Millie would walk ahead and frequently stop and look back. Such is the nature of a dog and a mystery why God created such an animal and friend of man. She was never far from me. Her nose was in constant motion as she sniffed out things that I did not know were there. She would criss-cross my path and go bounding into the woods after something she flushed out.
I continued across the creek and into a well overgrown field. We plan on renovating this field for use as a pasture and I just wanted to take a look. After I walked to the middle of it, I was in chest high briars and brambles. I had not seen Millie for about 10 minutes. As I started down the hill toward the creek again, there she was.
Exiting the field was as dangerous as entering it with all the briars and undergrowth. But soon I was in the woods again, heading back toward the creek. I crossed the first fork of this little creek and stopped in the middle of a clearing. I could hear the rustle of leaves everywhere and hear so many different bird calls I could not identify very many of them.
A little further on and I heard the barking of many squirrels and more birds. I stood there in my own silence listening to the hustle and bustle of woodland life going on around me. I would have stayed there for hours except I was supposed to be starting work soon. So I reluctantly started back toward the house. Step by step I listened intently to the sounds around me and crossed the second fork of the creek.
I had been treated to a woodland symphony with no meter and no key. What would seem to many as disorganized and sporadic calls and chirps, to me was a composition by the One who created it all. No melody to hum, no beat to tap a foot to, but a music that reaches directly to the soul.
I finally got back to the house and rejoined the world. I took my shower, powered up my computer, and went to work. But in my head I heard the birds and squirrels singing their part of the grand score.
I like these morning walks. Today is a good day.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Stampede!
The morning began as any other typical morning. As I started my day, I had no idea of the horror that was to be unleashed in our own back yard.
I was just leaving for the post office when I stepped out onto the back deck. That is when I first heard that unmistakable baying of hounds giving chase. There were many of them and they were wound up into such a frenzy it was just a continuous din of dogs. This cacophony of predators so near my house was unnerving.
I stood there and listened. I was not sure if I should just go back in the house or continue on to my car 60 feet away. Then I heard my own dog Millie. Being a coon hound she was naturally curious as to what the noise was all about. But Millie is not a bold dog. I began to wonder if I should fear for her as well.
I called to Millie to get her back in the house before this horde of hounds came sweeping up the hillside. As Millie came rounding the house from the front, I caught my first glimpse of teeth and terror coming toward the both of us.
There they were. A stampeding brigade of baby beagles.
There must have been a dozen of them. They moved in unearthly ways and seemed to have a flocking instinct that kept the pack moving in the same general direction. What was the morning to hold for me? Was this to be my end? Was I to be eaten alive by pudgy puppies?
I watched the horde swarm up the hillside, carefully avoid the wet spot in our septic tank's drain field, and then continue their relentless march over the next ridge. I was spared.
I can still hear their calls of death in my ears. Oh will time remove this memory of horror or must I forever remember this as...
The Day of the Beagle Babies
[dun-dun-dun, sounds of 1950s scifi B movies]
With enough bone-chilling adventure to keep you on the edge of your seat. Coming to the woods near you. Taxes, title, and tags not included, your mileage may vary, keep out of reach of children. Do not operate a motor vehicle if you are a baby beagle.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
I was just leaving for the post office when I stepped out onto the back deck. That is when I first heard that unmistakable baying of hounds giving chase. There were many of them and they were wound up into such a frenzy it was just a continuous din of dogs. This cacophony of predators so near my house was unnerving.
I stood there and listened. I was not sure if I should just go back in the house or continue on to my car 60 feet away. Then I heard my own dog Millie. Being a coon hound she was naturally curious as to what the noise was all about. But Millie is not a bold dog. I began to wonder if I should fear for her as well.
I called to Millie to get her back in the house before this horde of hounds came sweeping up the hillside. As Millie came rounding the house from the front, I caught my first glimpse of teeth and terror coming toward the both of us.
There they were. A stampeding brigade of baby beagles.
There must have been a dozen of them. They moved in unearthly ways and seemed to have a flocking instinct that kept the pack moving in the same general direction. What was the morning to hold for me? Was this to be my end? Was I to be eaten alive by pudgy puppies?
I watched the horde swarm up the hillside, carefully avoid the wet spot in our septic tank's drain field, and then continue their relentless march over the next ridge. I was spared.
I can still hear their calls of death in my ears. Oh will time remove this memory of horror or must I forever remember this as...
The Day of the Beagle Babies
[dun-dun-dun, sounds of 1950s scifi B movies]
With enough bone-chilling adventure to keep you on the edge of your seat. Coming to the woods near you. Taxes, title, and tags not included, your mileage may vary, keep out of reach of children. Do not operate a motor vehicle if you are a baby beagle.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Monday, February 20, 2006
I Hate Being Sick
I really do hate being sick. It kind of feels like "failure". Now I know that is not the reality of it, but when I am sick I don't do all the things I need to do. So I feel that I let others down.
Some weeks ago, I got a sinus infection. Now I have had perpetual sinus infections since I was a kid. So this was nothing new to me. So I fought it off the best I could without going to the doctor. And I managed to keep up my chores and duties.
Then it really hit me. And I mean hit me hard. Instead of just a stuffy nose, I was running fevers, coughing, and my nose was starting to bleed from the infection. In other words, it whipped me.
Well about the same time, my daughter came down with near identical symptoms (except for the nose bleed thing) and we were both miserable. Aches, pains, fevers, coughing, sore throat, the works.
Now shortly before we got hit by this, my son had this kind of thing. But he did what comes natural to him, he slept. He literally slept for 2 days. And you know what, he did not have as many problems as us and it did not last as long. But my daughter and I are still miserable, but being tended to lovingly.
Now let me tell you about my wife. My wife is awesome. She has taken care of me and her step-daughter unlike anything I could have imagined. She has seen to it to lessen our afflictions in all ways she could possibly. And she picked up my slack and was doing the things I should have been doing. I am a blessed man.
Now it was at the urging of my wife though that I finally decided to take myself and my daughter to the doctor. So today, we drove 34 miles to an "urgent care" facility. It is one of the few places you can get in without making an appointment months in advance it seems. Anyway we show up this Monday morning and I knew there would be a wait. When the lady told me the wait would be about 1 hour and 45 minutes, that was ok, we needed to be there.
So my daughter and I sat in the waiting room and watched some daytime tv. We watched Tyra, The Price Is Right, Dr. Phil, and a little bit of a soap, before we finally got into the doctor. That is because we ended up waiting 3 hours and 20 minutes to get in to see the doctor.
Now once in the exam room, we were there only 15 minutes. The doctor looked up our noses, in our ears, and in our throats. He came back with prescriptions for a couple of Z-packs and some cough suppressant, and we were on our way.
So tonight, we have already taken the first dose of our Z-packs. My wife made me take a bath in epsom salts to ease the general aches. And I took my cough suppressant. So right now, I feel much better. I know I have a ways to go yet, but there is light at the end of the tunnel. The last few nights of barely sleeping and coughing all night long were really taking a toll.
So I hate being sick. But I got to see love in action while I was sick. My wife loved me through all those aches and pains. My wife loved her step daughter like her very own child as well. Because I was sick, I have an even deeper appreciation of my wife. I suppose I could say I was blessed with being sick.
I still hate being sick though.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Some weeks ago, I got a sinus infection. Now I have had perpetual sinus infections since I was a kid. So this was nothing new to me. So I fought it off the best I could without going to the doctor. And I managed to keep up my chores and duties.
Then it really hit me. And I mean hit me hard. Instead of just a stuffy nose, I was running fevers, coughing, and my nose was starting to bleed from the infection. In other words, it whipped me.
Well about the same time, my daughter came down with near identical symptoms (except for the nose bleed thing) and we were both miserable. Aches, pains, fevers, coughing, sore throat, the works.
Now shortly before we got hit by this, my son had this kind of thing. But he did what comes natural to him, he slept. He literally slept for 2 days. And you know what, he did not have as many problems as us and it did not last as long. But my daughter and I are still miserable, but being tended to lovingly.
Now let me tell you about my wife. My wife is awesome. She has taken care of me and her step-daughter unlike anything I could have imagined. She has seen to it to lessen our afflictions in all ways she could possibly. And she picked up my slack and was doing the things I should have been doing. I am a blessed man.
Now it was at the urging of my wife though that I finally decided to take myself and my daughter to the doctor. So today, we drove 34 miles to an "urgent care" facility. It is one of the few places you can get in without making an appointment months in advance it seems. Anyway we show up this Monday morning and I knew there would be a wait. When the lady told me the wait would be about 1 hour and 45 minutes, that was ok, we needed to be there.
So my daughter and I sat in the waiting room and watched some daytime tv. We watched Tyra, The Price Is Right, Dr. Phil, and a little bit of a soap, before we finally got into the doctor. That is because we ended up waiting 3 hours and 20 minutes to get in to see the doctor.
Now once in the exam room, we were there only 15 minutes. The doctor looked up our noses, in our ears, and in our throats. He came back with prescriptions for a couple of Z-packs and some cough suppressant, and we were on our way.
So tonight, we have already taken the first dose of our Z-packs. My wife made me take a bath in epsom salts to ease the general aches. And I took my cough suppressant. So right now, I feel much better. I know I have a ways to go yet, but there is light at the end of the tunnel. The last few nights of barely sleeping and coughing all night long were really taking a toll.
So I hate being sick. But I got to see love in action while I was sick. My wife loved me through all those aches and pains. My wife loved her step daughter like her very own child as well. Because I was sick, I have an even deeper appreciation of my wife. I suppose I could say I was blessed with being sick.
I still hate being sick though.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Friday, February 10, 2006
"Every man needs a tractor"
We have a lot of projects to work on here at the farm. And the problem is, we simply did not have the right tools. We have major work to be done and we had no equipment. So we had been talking about getting a tractor for a few weeks. We knew we needed one and we were going to get one, but we did not know when or how.
So the other day, we just stopped in our local John Deere dealer and asked if they had any used tractors for sale. It just so happens that they were getting in a trade-in with only 60 hours on the engine. We came back the day it arrived to see it. It was the right size, the right horsepower, and available at a decent price. Not only that but it already had a bush hog rear attachment and a front end loader attachment.
It smelled of diesel fuel and had me mesmerized. And it was in the right color too: John Deere Green.
Anyway, this is all new to me. I never had a tractor before, or a reason to have one. So I relied on my wife for her evaluation. And after we talked it over, and I inspected the condition a little more closely, we signed the papers and scheduled the delivery.
So now we have a tractor. Of course, the wife thinks of it as a piece of equipment. I think of it as the biggest toy I have ever had :-)
The day it arrived, the guys unloaded and left. I had no manual, no experience, and no idea how to even get it started. So off to the Internet. I downloaded the appropriate manual and in a few minutes I had the basics down for starting the beast. After a quick read through the operations section I had the controls fairly well memorized.
So out I go with key in hand to have my first tractor driving experience. It was fun, it was cool, yeah I wasn't so good at first. But I am getting better.
Now the funny part. I was convinced that it would fit under the carport roof. My wife was not so sure. But since she wasn't around, I decided to try it out. It was just about 3 inches too high. It was obvious when it bent the aluminum flashing on the carport roof. So what comes next is obvious. This thing has a front end loader. I am sitting on dirt. Time to play.
So I dug my way into my own carport. I basically scooped out a few inches and then used the bucket to smooth it as best I could. It now fits. And there is even one half inch to spare.
Now just the other day our pastor stopped by to drop off my daughter who had been over to see his daughter. He saw our tractor and after we praised it for a bit, he said "every man needs a tractor." And the funny thing is, here on the farm, he is exactly right. Every man, and I must point out every woman as well, needs a tractor on a farm.
So we have a tractor and we both can operate it. I think my wife was a bit frustrated that I tried to hog all the driving time when we were moving the manure pile around. When you have horses, you have manure. Anyway, I know she is the better tractor operator of the two of us and has years more experience than I do. So I need more practice anyway :-)
I think maybe tomorrow there is definitely some rock or dirt that needs to be moved. In fact, I am sure I will find some. And when I do, I will think to myself, every man needs a tractor.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
So the other day, we just stopped in our local John Deere dealer and asked if they had any used tractors for sale. It just so happens that they were getting in a trade-in with only 60 hours on the engine. We came back the day it arrived to see it. It was the right size, the right horsepower, and available at a decent price. Not only that but it already had a bush hog rear attachment and a front end loader attachment.
It smelled of diesel fuel and had me mesmerized. And it was in the right color too: John Deere Green.
Anyway, this is all new to me. I never had a tractor before, or a reason to have one. So I relied on my wife for her evaluation. And after we talked it over, and I inspected the condition a little more closely, we signed the papers and scheduled the delivery.
So now we have a tractor. Of course, the wife thinks of it as a piece of equipment. I think of it as the biggest toy I have ever had :-)
The day it arrived, the guys unloaded and left. I had no manual, no experience, and no idea how to even get it started. So off to the Internet. I downloaded the appropriate manual and in a few minutes I had the basics down for starting the beast. After a quick read through the operations section I had the controls fairly well memorized.
So out I go with key in hand to have my first tractor driving experience. It was fun, it was cool, yeah I wasn't so good at first. But I am getting better.
Now the funny part. I was convinced that it would fit under the carport roof. My wife was not so sure. But since she wasn't around, I decided to try it out. It was just about 3 inches too high. It was obvious when it bent the aluminum flashing on the carport roof. So what comes next is obvious. This thing has a front end loader. I am sitting on dirt. Time to play.
So I dug my way into my own carport. I basically scooped out a few inches and then used the bucket to smooth it as best I could. It now fits. And there is even one half inch to spare.
Now just the other day our pastor stopped by to drop off my daughter who had been over to see his daughter. He saw our tractor and after we praised it for a bit, he said "every man needs a tractor." And the funny thing is, here on the farm, he is exactly right. Every man, and I must point out every woman as well, needs a tractor on a farm.
So we have a tractor and we both can operate it. I think my wife was a bit frustrated that I tried to hog all the driving time when we were moving the manure pile around. When you have horses, you have manure. Anyway, I know she is the better tractor operator of the two of us and has years more experience than I do. So I need more practice anyway :-)
I think maybe tomorrow there is definitely some rock or dirt that needs to be moved. In fact, I am sure I will find some. And when I do, I will think to myself, every man needs a tractor.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Monday, January 02, 2006
Mawage
Mawage is wot bwings us togeder tooday. Mawage, that bwessed awangment, that dweam wifin a dweam...
Some of you may recognize this quote of the impressive clergyman from the movie The Princess Bride. The impressive clergyman had a highly pronounced speech impediment. But he had a heart for marriage and a romantic soul. Well maybe not. But why do I mention this? And why after several weeks of not posting?
Announcement time folks. I have recently married and I have been too busy to fiddle around online. Real life rules! And some times it gets REAL busy. So just in the month of December, I moved my kids and all my stuff from Texas to North Carolina. And on December 22, yes just 3 days before Christmas, I married my lovely bride Amy.
And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva...
And true love it is. This marriage and this arrangement was put together by God (I posted about it some months ago) and is true and deep love. And now we let the love overflow into our new family. This family is an amalgam (mercury-free) of the five dissimilar children from the two broken families. We are building a new life and a new family around Christ and in our love for God and our love for each other.
So tweasure your wuv.
And that is exactly what we intend to do, to treasure our family as a precious gift from God, given to two broken people as God has promised to do good things for His children. And as we have sought to keep our lives holy to God in all we do, we also seek to keep our family centered around God. We treasure this opportunity and we are thankful.
Have you the wing?
So now I am wearing a wedding band on my finger again. It feels good to know that its there. I know it is not any magic of the ring, or any other magic that keeps our marriage blessed and full of love. I know it requires work and dedication. And as we work to merge the two households into one (in terms of stuff), the two sets of kids into one (oy vey), and as we blend our lives completely together, we know that it takes both of us to make it work. As my uncle would say "hard work and sweet oil". I don't really know what sweet oil is, but it sounds good.
Man an' wife.
Today we are man and wife. But unlike the marriage (or is that mawage) of Buttercup to Humperdink, our marriage is mutually pledged and mutually bonded. I strive to be the servant leader of our home and my wife strives to be the loving helper in all things. We are a team, built on the scriptural model of marriage and working together for each other and our family.
We truly are man and wife. I think I will go kiss the bride now.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Some of you may recognize this quote of the impressive clergyman from the movie The Princess Bride. The impressive clergyman had a highly pronounced speech impediment. But he had a heart for marriage and a romantic soul. Well maybe not. But why do I mention this? And why after several weeks of not posting?
Announcement time folks. I have recently married and I have been too busy to fiddle around online. Real life rules! And some times it gets REAL busy. So just in the month of December, I moved my kids and all my stuff from Texas to North Carolina. And on December 22, yes just 3 days before Christmas, I married my lovely bride Amy.
And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva...
And true love it is. This marriage and this arrangement was put together by God (I posted about it some months ago) and is true and deep love. And now we let the love overflow into our new family. This family is an amalgam (mercury-free) of the five dissimilar children from the two broken families. We are building a new life and a new family around Christ and in our love for God and our love for each other.
So tweasure your wuv.
And that is exactly what we intend to do, to treasure our family as a precious gift from God, given to two broken people as God has promised to do good things for His children. And as we have sought to keep our lives holy to God in all we do, we also seek to keep our family centered around God. We treasure this opportunity and we are thankful.
Have you the wing?
So now I am wearing a wedding band on my finger again. It feels good to know that its there. I know it is not any magic of the ring, or any other magic that keeps our marriage blessed and full of love. I know it requires work and dedication. And as we work to merge the two households into one (in terms of stuff), the two sets of kids into one (oy vey), and as we blend our lives completely together, we know that it takes both of us to make it work. As my uncle would say "hard work and sweet oil". I don't really know what sweet oil is, but it sounds good.
Man an' wife.
Today we are man and wife. But unlike the marriage (or is that mawage) of Buttercup to Humperdink, our marriage is mutually pledged and mutually bonded. I strive to be the servant leader of our home and my wife strives to be the loving helper in all things. We are a team, built on the scriptural model of marriage and working together for each other and our family.
We truly are man and wife. I think I will go kiss the bride now.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)