ZorroBandito's New Writeups

May 14, 2013 (log)

2013-05-14T07:09:09Z

What I really want to do is msg Ouroboros and say, Hey, what's up? I guess that's out of the question.

I'm so far from home right now that I feel an increased sense of being cut loose, not that Matthew is cut loose but that I am. But I am not, of course. I am only far from home.

I don't know what happened. We lost touch years ago, when he moved to Oregon. I only saw him once or twice since then, running into him by chance when he was in town. Memories of a lot of good times flood into my mind, but they were all long ago.

I can't say we were friends. But here suddenly, unlooked-for, a hole has opened up in the fabric of the world.

Rest in peace, Matthew.

love letter (personal)

2013-04-23T18:54:41Z

Dear Pat,

It's been a long long time for us, very unexpectedly. The long time part. We met when I was 19 and you were 20; we married when we were both 21. This is now a while ago, given that we are now both 68.

It's not unexpected because I didn't think we'd be together, it's unexpected because I never thought either of us would grow old. The world seems frozen when one is young. Time for some mysterious reason is not supposed to pass. And the young think they will be young forever.

I thought all of that.

It is not true, but that's OK too.

How long do we have now? No one can know. I tend to think, as I did when we were young, forever. I don't know whether or in what sense that is true.

All I know is, without you, I could not be myself.

Sting said it, out of what insight I cannot know:

Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
…

December 24, 2012 (log)

2012-12-24T22:41:32Z

My grandson got his vision back today.

As his facial bones began to grow in preparation for adolescence, as so often happens, the shape of his eyeballs changed. It happens gradually; one does not notice it. But eventually he could not see much of anything at any distance at all.

This feature was discovered by his father and his other grandparents as they drove through Scotland. The adults remarked upon the sheep on a distant hillside. The kid could not see the sheep. They got closer, and then he could discern black dots. Of course he thought that's what everyone could see.

Promptly upon their return home his father took him to an optometrist, and glasses were prescribed. We picked them up today. They are very attractive, and make him look vaguely older than he is (he's now 11).

He told me privately, "The difference is startling!" He keeps looking around at distant objects with a kind of wonder on his face. He can't get over it.…

Kicking free of the stirrups (essay)

2012-12-14T04:37:29Z

So now my riding teacher has a "new" plan. New to me anyway. She has me practicing riding without my feet in the stirrups.

When the horse is walking, fine. Even I have no problem with that. Trotting is more problematic, particularly on turns, because it's so bouncy. I keep thinking I'm going to fall off! But no, around the turns, stretch your inside heel down (which seems the opposite of what you ought to do), make your leg long, and just keep going. The balance is surprisingly steady. I've seen wranglers on the trail trot for hours with their feet loose, outside the stirrups. Easier on the legs and especially on the knees.

Then, of course, the canter. Kicking your feet out of the stirrups while cantering sounds like a recipe for landing on the ground immediately, but not so far...I can get one foot outside the stirrup for a bit, then get it back in, and I haven't fallen. Yet. In fact I am assured that cantering without stirrups is easier than trotting without them,…

It's never the horse's fault (essay)

2012-12-10T19:30:45Z

This is an axiom among riders. The bad things? It's never the horse's fault.

Now right off the bat that sounds nonsensical. We do have two animals in the game here: the rider, and the horse. The latter animal vastly outweighs the former. Horses, like everyone else, have good days and bad days, and some horses are all but unmanageable by even the most expert riders. So how does any of this get to be my fault as a rider?

There are several answers to this, and they're all fairly obvious if you think about it.

First, let's take the opposite road. Let's take the position that whatever is the problem here is the horse's fault. Anything from not picking up the canter on the correct lead to bucking off the rider and kicking her on the way down. Where does that reasoning end up?

Bad horse.

Bad horse is an obvious dead-end. Then what? Horses are not interested in our moral evaluations of them…

Pigeon (thing)

2012-11-29T15:11:51Z

Otherwise known as the rock dove, scientific name Columba livia, this bird has now nearly world-wide distribution, thanks to its association with human beings.

Originally native from Europe to North Africa and India, it was domesticated long ago and raised for food, trained for homing, racing and carrying messages, and has been used extensively in research. It now lives in cities all over the world. In places it has reverted to the wild, and nests on cliffs far from human habitation.

The rock dove was originally a seed-eater, and away from cities also eats waste grain, berries and acorns. It has been known to eat a few earthworms and some insects as well. In cities it may subsist primarily on popcorn, bread and other junk food provided by humans.

In the wild, the rock dove nests on sheltered cliff ledges. In cities, window ledges, rain gutters and similar sites provide an analog to the natural situation. The nest is built by the female with material…