Sunday, January 24, 2010

Mountain snow

From TMC
Looking out from a hill behind TMC, taken yesterday (Sat). Also notice the towers at Six Flags.

From TMC

Hotchkiss is a green dorm

From TMC

Actually, it's brown on top. But there's green all around it. Solar panels are cool too. It's shaped like an 'H'.

Monday, January 18, 2010


We measure rain by the wetness of the Dog. Gramma Doris measured half an inch overnight. There must have been more than that during the day. Stay tuned.

Monday, January 11, 2010

Refer Madness

Most of Sunday was spent with the refrigerator. It was collecting ice in the back corner of the freezer box, I thought it would be a good idea to manually de-frost the thing. It took a long, long time to de-frost that glacial pile of ice--clearly there was plenty of ice behind the back wall too. Vacuumed all the coils, the back, that fans, the motor.

Then thinking I was done, I plugged it back in and turned up the dial on the thermostat. Nothing happened. Nothing. Except the light came on. No sound. No humming. No cooling.

Oh well. My Placervillian sister had just told me recently that one can live without a dishwasher [and we have for some months] but you can't live without a refrigerator. --I don't know, maybe I can learn how to salt meat for long term storage.

After some time of looking for tips on how to fix a refrigerator on online do-it-yourself sites. It happened. With the freezer door still open. It started. A noise. Strangely loud. Familiar yet strange. Cindi called out with "what's that noise?" I had no idea. I came running. It was the sound of the refrigerator, amplified by the empty freezer box, with the door wide open. It had come to life. Ready to cool its inner-world.

We are still waiting to see if the ice maker starts to work again. But the water in the ice trays is already solid. Yay!

Wednesday, January 06, 2010

My New Favorite Poem

Forgetfulness - Billy Collins

The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,

as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.

Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,

something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.

Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.

It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.

No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.