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Czechia - Part Four


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January 21, 2013

Pack Creek Ranch, San Juan County, Utah
Sunday, January 20, 2013

The weather bureau might as well just post the word “Ditto” as its forecast.
Clear and still and cold as far as May, or so it’s beginning to seem.
Bor. . .ing.
But, the days are getting longer, so I tell myself.
Even though the Old Farmer’s Almanac says there is only a half hour more of daylight since Dec. 21.
This yearning for light and warmth is called cabin fever – and it’s right on time.
The urge to leave winter hibernation is strong – Rise up! Get out! Flourish! are the words to the fight song in the back of my mind.

In reality, it is still January .  .  .
January is the quietest time in the nearby town of Moab.
A friend explained, “This is the way it will be after the Rapture takes place.”
When I looked around at who was still in town, it made me wonder about God’s choice of the Righteous, but who am I to judge?

In other words, in January, any Moabite who can be somewhere else usually is.
So whenever there is any activity in town, it’s usually the only activity, and most people in town show up for whatever it is - just to get out of the house and confirm that there still are other people alive.

Having only one event at a time happening in town in January makes decisions about public socializing simple – just yes or no – go or don’t.
Almost anything will suffice – cage fighting, archery contests, Nice Jewish Girls Gone Bad Dancers and Singers, chicken racing, a trash fashion show, whatever. . .

Last night, for example, Moab Midwinter Mayhem was on offer at the Spanish Valley Arena – that’s the name for the Moab Women’s Roller Derby.
Featuring skating teams from Utah and Colorado.
Competing under names like The Moustache Sallies, The Raging Hormones, The Tailings Pileup, The Plague, and The Derailers.
So we went.
Along with about a third of the town – a huge turnout.
A marching band, cheerleaders, referees, and 50 skaters.
And a crowd gone a little mad with exaggerated enthusiasm for an athletic event whose scoring rules were a little hard to grasp.
In fact when I asked what the final score was, nobody was sure.
It was enough that there was a lot of action, great rock and roll music, nobody got hurt, everybody had a hell of a good time, and most of the members of the teams went out together for a beer after the game.
And the rest of us went home thinking, “What a night!” and “What a town!”

* * *


(This assumes you have read the previous posting under Kindling For the Fire. If not, scroll down and catch up before reading further here. What follows is a continuation . . .)

Opportunity knocks, but it doesn’t nag or stand around waiting on the porch , or leave pamphlets or promise to come back another time.

He was not guilty of all the things he was accused of, but he was guilty of so much else that the details didn’t really matter.

Bar talk:
He said, “I’ll be your happy hour.”
She replied: “And I’ll be your last call at closing time.”

It’s not easy to start fire with water, but sometimes you have to try.

Notoriously truthful.

Though there were many, each woman who left him was the only woman he ever loved. If that riddle baffles you, then you don’t really know much about love.

Equipment – the Swiss Army Knife for the Way on:
An open eye, a tender heart, a curious mind, a generous spirit, the power of the imagination – for the maze of the world that leads to the sanctuary of the heart.

Three hungers beyond food: for sensation, for recognition, for structure.

He went to potlucks so that he could eat the hot dish he brought. He never made it for himself at home. And nobody else ever ate it at the potluck dinner.

So suspicious he always tested the paint around the “Wet Paint” sign.

He had the face of a fretful tortoise.

Malignant euporia.

It confused him when he thought there might be a conflict between believing that he deserved a second chance and that he had a clear destiny.

Oh, we do not know the answer to that and never will.
But the mystery pleases us.

A chopped-off section of the tapeworm of time.

Why is “hockey puck” funny?
What’s amusing about “chicken lips?”

When he left he filled the bathtub, the sink, and the toilet with cold water, bags of ice, and 10 packages of several flavors of Jello, which set up nicely.
She always said she liked memorable surprises.

His name was spelled “ZSsmythe.”
And pronounced “Smith.”
The Z was silent and the double S meant the “s” sound is long.

Indecision is the basis of flexibility.

He moved to Barcelona, but he did not die there.
He intended simply to be buried alive in Barcelona.

His specialty was intellectual origami.

Theology is a religious bridge game.

He lived like a cockroach at a chicken dance.

Somewhere between informed anticipation and eerie premonition.

“Xenization” – going about as a traveling stranger.

“Paleosentimentolgoist” – a collector or fossilized feelings.

Her grandmother had no moss on her tongue – she always spoke her mind.

What’s with clockwise and counter-clockwise?
Clocks run one way – essentially left to right; but everything else runs right to left. Horse races, track and field races, NAASCAR, speed skating, roller derbies, and all the rest go round and around the other way – right to left.

Everyone will know.
Nobody will ever find out.
Everyone is watching.
Nobody will see.

He told his dog to “sit” but the dog only momentarily squatted.
He understood – it was the way he obeyed a STOP sign – a rolling pause.

Balinese words:
Kadang-kadang – sometimes
Kupu-kupu – butterfly
Laba-laba – spider
Pelan-pelan – slowly
Hati-hati – be careful

I am truly sorry – but not very.
I apologize – but only a little.

“Heavy Petting” – an all-purpose dog-care service in Park City

* * *

Enough for now – more to come . . .