Random Thoughts

the 2020--do I have to say anything else? 

This year has been one continuous sh*t-show. (Pardon my language, but I have no other words to describe this year.) I just want it over. I'm exhausted to the bone with the vitriol, worn to nothing with the virtue signaling of the perpetually offended, and numb to everything else. 

Is it over yet? Please tell me it's over. 

So, sometimes I think I'm as stupid as the proverbial box of rocks, or fence post, or a hammer...but honestly, do I have to prove it to myself on a regular basis? This blog post is proof of my rampant stupidity. I'm going to make a quasi-political post.

I was saddened to hear of the death of Ruth Bader Ginsburg. While I seldom agreed with her political leanings--which can be found in her judicial writing, I did admire her as a trail-blazer, as an intense advocate for equal rights, as a mother, as a wife fiercely loyal to her husband, and as someone who refused to allow politics to define her friendships. In spite of their political differences, and can anyone imagine more polar opposites politically than herself and SCOTUS Justice Antonin Scalia, she and Scalia were the best of friends. 

All of this brings me to my point. At one point, in the last year or so I believe, Justice Ginsburg said that she wished she had a magic wand she could wave to make people be civil once more to each other. She said she hoped more sane heads would prevail in this current political climate. She didn't point fingers at one side or the other. She laid blame where it belongs--at the feet of darn near everyone in politics. (And, anyone who wants to jump on the bandwagon of "but they do it more"...don't. Just don't.) Yes, I also read of her supposed last, dying wishes--and if true, even Justice Ginsburg would understand that if wishes were horses, beggars would ride and last wishes exert very little pressure on constitutionality. 

So, the President will most likely nominate someone to fill Ginsburg's seat. The other side will melt down. Heck, they're already threatening to "burn it all down" again. (Yawn) The President's side will argue it's not only his right but his constitutional duty to name someone to fill that seat. The other side will scream and cry and rage that we're X amount of days from an election. And, for the most part, the vast majority of Americans will shake their heads and wonder when childish behavior and temper tantrums became de rigueur for all elected officials and we'll go about our daily lives.  See, the vast majority of Americans also think that Washington, DC should be like Vegas--that what happens in DC stays in DC. 

Or to put it in another manner...Dear DC, my cow died. I really don't need your bull. This political junkie is suffering from massive political burnout.

I like to tell myself that I'm really not the superstitious type--about most things, that is. When it came to showing Vander, there was a routine that if I deviated from I noticed things didn't go the way I thought they should. I had to put his cool coat on him for at least a few minutes on the table before I took him down and walked him to the ring. I also usually had someone else pick up his armband. And, before he came off the table, I always patted his shoulder and said, "Let's go get our butt kicked." That was to keep me from getting too cocky. Showing an incredible dog as he was lent itself to getting cocky. 

There is one superstition, though, that has kicked my butt. The first time Darling Husband (DH) and I traveled to Wyoming I started to hyperventilate the closer we drove to the state line on our way to Denver International to return to reality. I had to pull over before we left Wyoming and I made DH drive us out of the state. He thought I was crazy, but I told him that if I drove out, I'd never return. Insert epic eye roll from DH, a long-suffering sigh, but he drove us out of the state and at the first on-off ramp in Colorado, he pulled off so I could take over driving. (He really hated driving anywhere and I love to drive.)
For twenty eight years, every trip ever made on what became an annual pilgrimage to Wyoming, I didn't drive out of the state. Even when I had to cross Wyoming while traveling to the Collie Nationals (twice in CA, once in NV, and once in ID), I made sure I had a co-pilot who could drive across the state line. Even my son knew of that superstition and a few years ago when we vacationed in Wyoming with him and our grand-daughter, he knew when I said, "Co-pilot's control," he had to lean over and take the wheel until we were across the state line. (Thank heaven for cruise control.) 

Two years ago, I told myself it was just a superstition. I could drive out. I didn't turn control of the wheel over to my co-pilot, my best buddy, Jacque. DH was sitting behind me and couldn't take the wheel. Two years ago...and I haven't been back. I knew the moment the tires crossed the state line. My throat tightened with a huge lump, my heart started racing, and I felt as if I'd just lost something so precious it could never be replaced. 
I've been close--Deadwood, SD is darn close, but last summer, we had to hurry back to Flatlandia and couldn't swing over to the place where my soul needs to go to recharge. This summer--well--let's just say nothing went according to plan. 
So, now I find myself scrolling several Facebook pages dedicated to images of Wyoming. I have literally filled a thumb drive with images of that harsh, sometimes starkly barren, yet incredibly beautiful place. There is a German word: fernwah--that translates as "farsick." Sometimes, looking at these images I've saved, looking at the pictures I've shot, I am so "homesick" that it feels as if my heart has broken into pieces. It truly does feel as if a piece of my heart and a large portion of my soul are missing and I can only find those missing parts in Wyoming. 

Will I return to this place of stunning vistas, stark harsh landscapes, wide open spaces filled with a quiet so intense I can hear my own heart beating? If I have to walk there...I will return. And when I do, I will NEVER be the one to drive out again. 

Photographing hummingbirds requires patience. Lots and lots of patience. I don't have lots and lots of patience. But, I did manage to get a few fairly clear images of the hummingbirds sparring around one feeder. I'm always amazed at these little masters of aerial maneuvers. I have five feeders strategically placed around my porch and there is always the one feeder that they fight over. This year, it's the feeder outside my office window. I can even change the location of the feeders and they still fight over the one right outside my window this year. Last year, it was the feeder on the arch over the deck/breezeway between the two areas of the TN homestead. 

Photographing hummingbirds is rather like writing a book, I've noticed. A lot of high hopes, false starts, attacks (it is very unnerving to be dive-bombed by three aggressive male hummers because one of them saw his reflection in the end of the long lens), and the reward of getting the words down. FINALLY. Just as when the shutter clicks and you know before you even review it, you caught a decent image. I'm still waiting for that "STOP THE PRESSES", be still my heart moment both in writing and photographing critters. Those moments will come. They just require patience. (Please refer to the title of this post.) 

I guest blogged over on Kristine Raymond's blog. You can read that here: 
https://www.wordplaypodcast.com/2020/04/defining-normal-in-abnormal-by-lynda-j.html
and, I then did a podcast with Kristine. Take a listen here: https://www.wordplaypodcast.com/2020/04/episode-156-guest-lynda-j-cox.html

The podcast was the first for me, but Kristine made it feel comfortable. Thank, Kristine, for having me as your guest.