The Laughing Wolf

A New Year Wish

I want to wish each and every one of you a Healthy, Happy, and Prosperous New Year! Be safe out there tonight...

My holiday from blogging, such as it is, may continue a bit longer. To be honest, I am getting things done, having fun, and making happen that thing called life.

Over the last few weeks, I have had the opportunity to go out to Wolf Park in the evenings to prepare "meatballs" to give medicine (and prepare them to get medicines) to the wolves. It has also given me more time with the people who truly know wolves and animals, and when you have the chance to learn from people with 30 years experience, take it. My thanks to all for sharing and helping me learn.

To say I have enjoyed it is an understatement, as I have been able to get to know some of the more "interesting" wolves. Indeed, I have come to think rather highly of two of them, who surprised me by being some of the daintiest/most careful takers of meatballs (actually, portions of hot dogs mostly, with some ground meat or dog food balls). This has precluded pictures, but do have some nice ones from other occasions I hope to share soon.

Work is going to be a bear in January, with at least two major we-need-this-yesterday projects that will take up at least the next six weeks. If not a bit longer.

More will come, just not sure when. Meantime, thanks for continuing to stop by, and all the best in the New Year!

LW

Exploring The River Tam

I've long promised this to Jon, and have a few minutes this morning, so I've decided to explore a bit of my fascination with the character of River Tam in Firefly and Serenity. I freaked out the volunteer coordinator at Wolf Park (not hard to do, but fun) a while back by noting that part of it was that she was a "psycho killer kitty, which I like." It is indeed that, and more.

First, I admit that I find Summer Lyn Glau to be beautiful. I was not surprised to find out that she is a premier ballerina -- the moves she makes show the training -- and would be less than surprised to find some form of martial arts in her background as well. Her official site has more, and there is also an unofficial fan site up as well. The fact is, I do think she is pretty, and the grace with which she moves is captivating as well, especially for one such as myself lacking in grace and coordination.

But looks and grace are only part of the equation. While I know nothing of the actress and the person/soul that she is, I do know a good bit about the character. Joss Whedon does little by halves, and that is truly the case with this well crafted character.

First, Joss brings in the waif motif. She arrives curled up naked in a fetal position, vulnerable and helpless, small, and in a way that brings out both the protector and predator. In some ways, the start of the response is the same for both if you look at it from a behavioral standpoint. The desire to investigate, to explore, to find out more. The protection response is strong in most humans, and there is suggestion -- if not evidence -- in scientific literature that some of this is hardwired, particularly in males. There is something about something small and helpless that tends to catch our eye, and bring out the desire to protect.

This is taken a step further by having the character very childlike, which again brings out another level of protectiveness in people, both male and female. In the series, there is a moment that the actress played brilliantly, where while hiding on the outside of the ship from enemies within, she is focused not on the situation, but staring out into the universe with joy and wonder. This, and other similar scenes, reinforce the childlike quality to her, and make her both appealing and deserving of protection.

Yet, it is also clear that the character is not a child, but a woman. This is, in part, an appeal to the predator. The knowledge that she is much more than she appears, and could be more still, is a well-crafted appeal to the male (and some females I know).

This, in turn, leads to the delight (to me) of the hidden depths. You realize quickly that the character has depths unplumbed (get your mind out of the gutter!), and with it comes the desire to know more. Part is because the depths hold information critical to the show/movie, and because in most normal people it hits the curiosity button. What else is it that they know? What are their thoughts, particularly on X, Y, and Z? What other gems lie hidden within? This is also an indication of age, experience, and maturity, which again appeals to the pull of the adult, the knowledge that she is a woman and not a child.

Adding spice to this mix is the fact that she is quite deadly. For all the protective response she invokes, she can and will hold her own in a fight. She clearly needs protection and guidance in social and other situations, and can and does fall prey to various forms of social combat (never recognizing them for the field of battle that they truly are). Yet, when it hits the fan, she can and does give a more than good accounting of herself. At that point, her character becomes both protector and potential predator, leaving one to wonder a bit at how far she might let that predator slip...

All together, this makes for a rich and delightfully complex character. Far too many characters in entertainment today, and in real life, exist in only one or two dimensions. Really interesting people, fictional or non-fictional, have many layers, levels, and dimensions. In this character, you can clearly see this richness for all the character's tender years.

For me, the character brings forth the protector and the predator. The sense of wonder at life and the universe is a delight, and I sense a kindred desire to explore. Within that is a seasoning, wonderfully free of cynicism, that knows the universe is not a nice place and that not all people are nice and friendly. She is one who watches and is prepared, but does not let that rule or preclude her enjoyment of life and experiencing the wonders. Finally, River is also one you would want at your side and back in any fight, for you know that she can look out after herself if you are not around and that she can and will protect you. Indeed, after the battle you may find yourself being the one stalked...

A bit brief, but it fills in some gaps and fulfills a promise to discuss this further.

LW

Into The Light: William Martin Grant

From Christina comes the news that blogger Jack Grant of Random Fate has lost his father this morning. May the light shine on Jack and his family, and guide them in the days ahead.

LW

Thoughts And Prayers Needed

Lex's sister passed into the light yesterday. Go let him and his family know that good thoughts come their way, and that love surrounds them during this time.

LW

Christmas 2005

This year is the first year since Dad has died that I have truly been into Christmas. Christmas is about family, and my fondest memories of Christmas are of Mom, Dad, Ralph, and I enjoying the time. Next year I shall endeavor to write of Christmas Eve, a special day, but for now only of the day.

We would get up and go into the living room and see what Santa had brought. Then came the stockings (both mine and the dog's), then the presents under the tree. The stockings contained a mixture of fruit, nuts, treats, and always had a dime in the toe for good luck. These were not, with the exception of Ralph's (the dog, aka Mutt, aka You Bloody Beagle), store-bought but rather old fashioned real stockings from before the Great Depression, upon which an initial was carefully sewn by the owner. While the store-bought were pretty and nice, the real stockings held a heck of a lot more...

We would have coffee (chocolate for me when younger), stollen, or other home-made delight to eat whilst we enjoyed it all. Sometimes the food was simple, family treats from when my parents were children, to more elaborate, but all made by hand with love. And occasional imprecations and invective in working the stollen dough... Then, it was a trip over to an Uncle's house for Christmas morning there, an exchange of gifts, and -- always -- egg nog. Then, it was back home to the madness that was the mandatory gathering of Mom's family and a huge dinner. Many years this was enjoyable, and a few years not so much. Things got much better after we broke the tradition a bit but kept the great get-together and feast.

To this day, I honestly can't remember if it was Christmas or Thanksgiving that Ralph ate the turkey intended for the feast. The stinker found it out on the counter and cleverly pulled it off and rolled backwards so that it came down on his chest and did not make a thud on the floor. A chunk was gone out of the bird when the deed was beagled out, and consternation hit. Ralph was sent out in gorged disgrace, and my parents tried to figure out what to do. Back then, the holiday meant no stores were open, and even had one been, the odds of them having a bird that large were next to nil. So, Mom scrubbed the area with Comet, and Dad wisely trimmed the area down. We roasted the bird, and then in a major break with tradition (noted by all), carved the turkey before everyone arrived. I forget the exact excuse used, but it worked.

The food for the feast was always plenty, and plenty good. It was the one time of the year we got some of the treats, and all made the most of it. It wasn't just the trypto that had us in a coma afterwards...

Yet, the memories that mean the most to me are of the first of the morning. It is the little tin bell that was always on the tree, and was one of the first I was allowed to put there. It is on my tree right now as I right this, along with the bird's nest and the glass pickle... It is of Dad with his cup of coffee, sleepy, grumpy in act and proud and happy in fact, in robe and pajamas. It is of Mom dressed in a bit more for cooking, expressing delight at some surprise. It is of the two of them on that old, formal sofa, underneath the portraits of Bishop Pierce (a X-great grandfather) and Miss Nancy, his wife. It is of Ralph investigating his stocking, knowing which one was his without coaxing. It is of Ralph trying to get out the sliding glass door with the long rawhide treat that hit both sides. It is of sitting on the cold wood floor or the bricks of the fireplace in my pajamas, bathed in the warm glow of love. It is of the two pair of jeans always under the tree, the pants that had to last me until next Christmas.

Yes, Christmas was special, and was both dreaded and loved by Mom. Dreaded for all the work (and expense), and loved for both the reward for the hard work and for the celebration of her faith. As the ovarian cancer ate away her insides, her wish was to make it to Christmas, to be home for Christmas. A woman of strong faith, it is my opinion that by her lights she was indeed home for Christmas when she left her shell behind 11 years ago this day. It made for a strange Christmas, but a surprisingly joyous one, for she was home and was free of the pain. I doubt that anyone who has not lost family or friends to that horrible death can understand, but Dad and I both felt relief at the end of her suffering even as we mourned her loss.

Yet, it was when Dad died that it became odd for me. For, this is a celebration of family and no offense to any Aunts, Uncles, or Cousins out there, but my immediate family was gone. Things just were not the same, no matter the efforts of friends and extended family.

For some reason, this Christmas has brought back some of what has been missing. I am not sure why, and I am not sure what it is, but -- with the exception of things said and thought whilst dealing with all the oh-so-delightful drivers -- something has returned. The new lair is getting some major cleaning and work, and a tree is up. Decorations are out, and the living room is aglow with the warm light of candles on mantle, sideboard and hearth. My favorite Christmas music is playing, and I am the happiest I have been at this time in several years. By rights, this should not be for I do not have someone special here to share it with me, nor was I able to do for family and friends -- most especially my friends -- as I would like. Time has been short, and I am like Tammi on this, for in a perfect world I would have already written all.

Yet, I am strangely happy. I have had a wonderful visit with this guy, though he was not supposed to see my true form. Actually, I treated him better than family, as I left some coffee for him Friday morning. I have dinner tonight with other friends. Perhaps it really is as simple as realizing that friends are the family we choose. Who knows.

What I do wish for each of you, no matter your beliefs, is the joy of the season, is the wonder of it all as seen through a child's eyes, and is whatever measure of peace is needed to comfort you. Sit back from the rush, the consumerism, and the madness that is the surface, and take time to enjoy the delight and love that is at the heart of family -- those chosen as well as those of blood. Share that gift with others, and let the light shine forth from window, heart, and hearth.

May the light shine on you all this season, fill your life with its glow, and warm your souls and hearts with love.

LW
off to be sure dimes are in the toes of the stockings...

She Speaks For Me...

And am glad to see she added in Dies Natalis Solis Invicti and Mithras to the list. Since I am known for going "Bah, Humbug" all year long, allow me to suggest that anyone offended today Sod Off.

LW

If Christmas Happened Today...

I am laughing my head off at this, but part of that is to keep from crying. When you think about it, though, it is not surprising that the super-PC crowd gets their knickers sucked up in a bunch over Christmas as the story violates every major shibboleth of the PC testament. Thanks, I think, to Deb for this one.

LW

Christmas Movie Meme

If it had been anyone else other than Tammi, I probably would not do it. But, it is, so here it is:

1. Original Grinch
2. Snoopy Christmas
3. Miracle on 34th Street (original is best)
4. A Christmas Carol (original is best)
5. Frosty The Snowman/Rudolf

Okay, most are television, but deal. They were the the ones that said (and say) Christmas to me. Two others deserve honorable mention:

Scrooged: Carol Kane had waaaaaay too much fun hitting Bill Murray, and I am not convinced all of it was acting. Add in some others that I like, and it is a good fun romp.

Ghost and Mrs. Muir: The ex had never seen it, so one holiday we played it for her. The fact that she had gotten it confused with the Ghost and Mr. Chicken at one point before watching raised an eyebrow with both Dad and myself. Watching it somewhere between Thanksgiving and Christmas is something of a tradition these days, need to see if I still have a playable copy... What, it has a Christmas scene in it...

LW

Recipe: Powers Pepper Jelly

Pepper Jelly has been an important part of Christmas for as long as I can remember. In the summer, Dad raised bell pepper and hot peppers in our garden, and come the fall he (and later we) would make pepper jelly -- usually two or three cases of it -- to give at Christmas. To say that family and friends looked forward to it is an understatement, and so did we. It was not unusual for Dad and myself to polish off a jar (along with a block of cream cheese and most of a box of Ritz crackers) "testing" it to be sure it was good.

Dad's recipe has been semi-guarded for some time, but I have decided that now is the time to share it with the world lest it be lost. One of the things that has helped make this year a good Christmas for me is that I grew hot peppers (the drought was not kind to the bell peppers) and made a batch and have shared it with family and friends. It is good to continue some traditions, and so I share this one with you.

Hardware:
Large pot
Cutting Board
Knife
Food gloves
Large pourable container
Strainers (I use at least two, one medium one fine)
Jelly Jars
Measuring cup
additional container
Jar funnel
Canner

Ingredients:
1 cup finely chopped hot peppers
1 cup finely chopped bell peppers
13 cups white sugar
3 cups apple cider vinegar (use only real!)
Green food colouring
1 box Certo

Dad used, and I use, a mix of hot peppers. Usually about half a cup are home-grown jalapenos and the other half are home-grown small Thai peppers. This year, I used home-grown Thai, jalapeno, habanero, and one home-smoked jalapeno. It is not necessarily the heat, but the flavors that count. That is also why you need to be sure to use real apple cider vinegar and not the artificially flavored stuff that so many places try to pawn off. Always read the label...

Trust me: use food gloves while handling and chopping the hot peppers...

Prepare jelly jars and lids per directions. I run my jars through the dishwasher with heat-dry on, and it is an excellent sterilizer.

Put all ingredients except Certo into a large saucepan/stockpot. Bring to a rolling boil, cut off the stove, and let cool for 10 minutes. Strain into pourable container, add about three drops of food colouring and the packets of Certo. Stir well without adding a lot of air, then pour into the jelly jars. A uniform green colour lets you know that everything is well mixed. There is usually a bit left over, so pour into spare container to let set and serve as your "proof" batch for taste-testing. Seal. Dad could always get them to seal as is, but I never have so I bring a canner to the boil and can for about 10 minutes.

Enjoy.

LW

Five Weird Habits

Well, I have been tagged by both Sgt. Hook and Teresa, so here is a short and sweet version:

5. When rinsing items, I have a tendency to rinse three times. No idea where that came from...
4. When wanting to leave somewhere and getting sidetracked by people, I will pull out my car key and start playing with it. Think that came from trying to "remind" a friend that I needed to leave on multiple occasions
3. I hold doors for ladies and those senior to me, though I have been known to let a door go on those who have shown they are no lady or otherwise a boor
2. If eating out by myself, I read as I hate to waste the time just waiting
1. I prefer my water without ice, just faucet or room cold

So, what are your five weird habits?

LW

Looking Out My Back Door, Take Two

This is what greeted me yesterday morning, somewhere around seven inches of snow. It in and of itself was not too bad, but all but one car door was frozen shut. Well, that and the snow plows had raised a wall where my road comes out to a main road... That was where I pulled out the line from Animal House, down shifted, and went went "ramming speed!" Actually had to do that a couple of times around town. I love all-wheel drive...

The drive home Thursday night was long and interesting, and convinced me that as long as I live up north I will NOT be getting a new Ford Mustang. Every one of them that I saw was in trouble or headed that way, with the only one making any progress was doing so was crabbing (headed almost sideways) to try and move forward.

More later, as I am still on vacation. :)

LW

John Lennon: Nine Bells

I remember well that night, for it was the night of nine bells. At the time, I was working in radio while attending college and that night found me working at the campus station. There were a few of us in, the music was flowing, and so was the chatter as we BS'd about the day, the exams, and the world.

Off in a corner of the main reception area was the teletype machine provided by one of the news services. Believe it or not, teletypes were still used then, but we had one of the new thermal printer models instead of the huge old black box still in use at another station where I worked. The continuous sheet of paper coming off of it was our link to the outside world. Most news just came over, but special news rated the use of bells. One bell indicated that attention was needed, but it was not Earth-shattering. Two to three bells meant someone, somewhere, was having a rough time of it. Five bells meant a major disaster had just occurred. Not much rated more than five. Ten bells had but one meaning: "Meet Me In The Fallout Shelter Baby" .

That night, we heard a ring, but being one (or maybe two) we were in no hurry to leave our conversation and the cueing of music. Just a minute or two later it seemed, the bell started ringing and didn't stop. When it hit five, we were already moving towards the teletype. When it passed five, we moved in a hurry while keeping an ear open for the signal to activate the Emergency Broadcast System. We counted. Nine. Not Ten. Nine. What in the world rated nine bells. We found out.

I was the one who went into the booth and read the news. "I read the news today..."

To this day, however, I remain relieved that it was nine bells, and not the ten we more than half expected.

LW

Dec. 7

We remember. May more remember the lessons of the day...

LW

An Odd Connection

Reading this post at Eric's reminded me of an odd moment this weekend. Whilst spending time outside in the snow, I had one of those sudden bits of deja that can afflict one from time to time.

One of the earliest dreams of my death began, I think, in high school. In this dream, I am in a C-130, geared up for a low-level jump. So low, in fact, that we do not have on reserves, for if the main does not work there will be no time for such. We are in mountains, known but unsaid. The ramp is going down, and below -- far too close -- is ground moving by. Long stretches of snow with patches of snow-covered evergreens and the occasional nasty bit of rock are going by in vivid detail. Somehow I know that I die not in the jump, but afterwards.

This weekend, out at Wolf Park, I looked up at some evergreens and it hit. The snow in the trees was as I saw it in that dream. A very different angle, but the same. It hit fast, and faded. For a moment longer I stared at it, simply enjoying the beauty of the sight.

LW