No images today. Just my thoughts.
As I begin composing this, it’s Fathers Day. And with all due respect to “best friend” and “fishing buddy” dads, it’s time to pay tribute to fathers who are dead and in the ground before their worth is acknowledged (if it ever is).
Hardasses. Disciplinarians. Dads who refuse to accept laziness, excuses, half-truths, and mediocrity.
Men who relentlessly challenge their children to be better than “good enough,” who are known more for being tough and demanding than for being “supportive.”
Fathers who know that their prime directive is to raise a child, not to be liked or to cultivate a built-in pal.
These men often are despised not only by their kids but also by their spouses. They’re the Vietnam vets of fatherhood, only rarely receiving the gratitude they deserve while they’re still around to hear it.
Our culture suffers from the softening of males, most especially the feminizing of boys. Fathers who risk being hated in order to do right by their children are our best hope of undoing that cultural damage.
So here’s to the toxically masculine, I’ll-give-you-somethin’-to-cry-about, disliked dads out there. I see you.
Yesterday also was Statehood Day in Arkansas, which was admitted on June 15th, 1836. The state would secede 25 years later, of course, readmitted on June 22nd, 1868.
Since I planned to take the day off anyway, it would’ve been fun to monitor the heat-mitigating effect of the insulation I put up on Saturday. The weather didn’t cooperate completely, however, mostly cloudy and randomly gloomy, threatening to storm (which it did and dropped a half-inch of rain).
I was fine with that. I hung out with the girls and, as intended, attended to recuperating from heat stress.
When the sun did come out, the Kraft on the insulated interior walls measured at least ten degrees lower than the bare T1-11. The air throughout the cabin was cooler and, on an extremely humid day, drier.
Yeah, I’m thrilled. And it’ll only get better.
A thing found in virtually every home in America is missing from my cabin. No, not a dishwasher. Not paneling on the walls. What is it?
A mirror.
Truth is, I haven’t looked at myself in a mirror in over a month. (I’ll pause here for your reaction, smart-ass or otherwise.) Sure, I’ve seen my reflection in the driver’s window of my truck as I get in, but that’s it.
Now if for some reason I needed a mirror — I can tell that my beard could use a trim, for example — there’s always the camper. And a mirror will come to the cabin at some point and hang over the vanity.
But I haven’t missed it.
The other day, I said that I’ve saved money by watching for sales at Harps and rollbacks at Walmart. Something else I do to avoid spending money unnecessarily is checking to see if I already have an item before going to the grocery (or pulling the trigger on a curbside-pickup order).
I guess that must seem like a pretty obvious thing — doesn’t everyone? What’s different here is that I was left post-Grab with an assortment of foodstuffs, largely a mystery to me and kept in a couple of cabinets in the camper. It’s now split between my tidy chifferobe-pantry and a jumbled tote, which I rummage through every so often.
Yesterday’s find: vanilla extract. I scratched that off my shopping list.
Since moving over to the cabin, I’ve settled into a personal groove that’d drive most people absolutely nuts. I pursue efficiency ruthlessly. I’m meticulous about many things, and to a fault. Even when I relax, I’m up and down and up and down, checking on this or fussing with that.
This pleases me. This suits me.
I have an unexpected opportunity to shape the life that surrounds me, and to my liking. So far, so good.
Okay, just one image.
It’s been forever, it seems, since I’ve had ice cream. I judged it to be not only a splurge but a luxury.
But didn’t I say that I wanted to consume more fat and calories?
That, boys and girls, is four scoops of Blue Bunny ice cream. The flavor is Caramel Butter Pecan Praline. And it was delicious.
Coming up on 9pm last night, out with Smudge in the fading light, I was struck by how foggy it was. And then I took a deep breath.
Smoke.
Through the trees to the west and north, I could see it was thicker in the valley. Checking my wildfire tracking app, I found none active in the area.
Heavy rain was inbound for The Mountain, arriving within 15 minutes, so I didn’t worry too much about it. But these are things I think about.
It’s a different life up here. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable