dream ranch

No time so far for anything I really want to do today out here in rural-burbia. Homeowners’ association duties and newspaper work intervene.

Homeowners’ board meeting this morning dominated by talk of free-roaming horses and hungry bears — the usual stuff of community discussion in our semi-rural, bedroom community. If not horses and bears, it’s water and washboard roads. We silently agree it’s bad form — if not an invitation to trouble — to talk about snakes.

I violated weekend rules by ironing a shirt for the meeting. And as if further proof that things were off to an odd start, I felt a centipede (six inches long, now deceased) crawl up my bare ankle while I stood at the ironing board.

That’ll teach me: Board members can expect me to show up rumpled from here on out. It’s a different deal if I iron one to take a friend to Sunday night dinner at Andiamo in Santa Fe. That’s worth it. And no attacks yet from poisonous insects when that’s my mission. Clean jeans, a fresh shirt and a date up north: Invicible.

Must now do a little work-work. I will return to my personal reading pile eventually afterwards but know I probably will doze off, still recovering from another week of helping to put out a paper.

That’s where I signed off last night after — falling asleep in the living room, reading an interview with John McPhee. It was seven this morning next thing I knew. Neither horses nor bears — or any other critters — disturbed me.

Cooper, the Aussie, has gotten used to this scenario and padded off to bed without me. I found him in the morning on his usual early-hours perch — the picnic table in the back yard. He can see over the wall from there, and watch for anything messing with his ever-present but imaginary flock of sheep.

At any rate, it’s a good interview with John McPhee and I am enjoying it greatly. Cooper just wishes I would get going and take him out on patrol. McPhee can wait. And the summertime clouds are beckoning.

And by the way, to end this installment of mundane thoughts, I disagree with this writer’s amusing but, I think, way too bitter assessment of McPhee. 

Washington correspondent, Michael Coleman, just called to talk about Syria. Said new video of chemical attacks ghastly. Talked about U.S. bombing prospects.

Buzzkill in rural-burbia.