The evidence:
1. I went to work and found out I didn't have to. Yay, three-day weekend!
2. I sat around by the fire and read the first half of the morning.
3. I put new guitar strings on my guitar the second half of the morning. It sounded so nice that I just had to play it for a long time.
4. In the afternoon I went up to Grand Mesa to go cross country skiing. I love cross country skiing!
(4 1/2. My boss has the same size feet as me, and so his ski gear fit me. Yay skiing for free and without mailing my skis from MN!)
5. Even though it was the first time I had skied since last season and I was up at 10,000 ft and it was like 8 degrees outside, I still had so much fun!
6. Now I'm going to a friend's murder mystery birthday party and I get to be a big important gangster and then die! (Oh wait, that kinda stinks... but it'll be cool until I die!!)
Q.E.D.
Time to shower.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
I'm Dumb the Fourth
The past two days, I've been driving a tractor - all day, until the sun sets. It has it's perks - I've listened to all the Creedence and Led Zeppelin recordings I have and thoroughly enjoyed it, plus I get to be in the sun all day! - but it also has the major downsides of boredom and fatigue. And maybe the onset of carpal tunnel syndrome (?). (I used to think that joysticks were the best thing ever, especially if controlling a space ship or airplane in a video game. I am now totally joysticked out. I have been moving a stupid little joystick back and forth (at ~ 1Hz) for 8+ hours a day! My wrist is so sore!!!) Anyway, the reason for all the tractor driving is that it's getting very cold out here on the Western Slope, and the poor little vines may be in danger of freezing. And during the growing season we regularly strip the vines of their earthen clothing (a side effect of the turbulent inter-vine weeding made possible by the weed badger), making them even more prone to the cold. So now is the time of year to push dirt back over the bases of the vines to guard them against the cold! And what better way to do it than with yet another tractor implement?! (I think by now I've taken a full tour of the vineyard with all of 4 or 5 different implements...)
Okay. So now we're picturing me yesterday, on the tractor cruising through rows of vines. I am bundled from head to toe, a ball cap shades my eyes, and I'm now rocking out to Jethro Tull. My hand rhythmically moves a joystick back and forth, back and forth to guide a large steel blade in and out of the vines, pushing earth against them. My mind wanders to stave off boredom and monotony. I finish a row, turn the tractor and prepare to begin another, and I see one of the dumbest things on the property. A sight I'm by now familiar with (thanks to all of my tractoring), a large blue hydrant stands proud at the end of one of the vine rows... or rather, exactly in between two rows... right where any vehicle moving between the rows would have difficulty avoiding it. I don't know why it's there. It's just asking for trouble.
I noted the hydrant as I continued on beside it. "I [hoe in] should really [hoe out] remember to [hoe in] to be careful [hoe out] of that when I [hoe in] come back up the [hoe out] next row [hoe in]..." I traveled onward down the hill trying to think of some way to remember to be alert in another five minutes. My mind wandered. (It really is curious how your mind wanders when you're doing something that requires a great deal of attention and yet absolutely no brain power. It's kind of similar to the thoughts flying through your mind as you begin to fall asleep... intense, scattered and fleeting...) Back up the other side. [Ian Anderson sings: What a reason for waiting and dreaming of dreams...] End of the row. I look down and notice some irrigation piping I had safely laid aside earlier. Piping. Pipe. Hydrant. SHIT!!! I looked in front of me. No hydrant. (I was still moving forward.) Maybe this wasn't the row. I look behind me. There it was: a bent pipe gushing water, the remains of the hydrant fixture dragging behind me from the tractor. OHNOOHNOOHNOOHNO!!! I tried to stop the gushing, got wet, realized it was futile and ran to get boss man.
We headed up to the main shutoff valve for the domestic water for the entire farm, he chiding me the whole way. We shut the water off while he went to get a cap for the mangled pipe. I went to tell Colin and Anna how I was the source of the recent water scarcity. "Did you need the water for anything?" Colin replied, "Well, it was cooling the cooling tower for the still..." OHNOOHNOOHNO!! I ran back to turn the water on, a mini geyser better than a fried piece of expensive equipment. Too late. The still was okay, but the run had to be aborted. And back to shut off the water again. Lance came back with the cap, we screwed it on tight and I surrounded the pipe end with dirt so it wouldn't freeze. And back on the tractor until the sun set behind Grand Mesa.
Today, as soon as I spied the wind machine I started loudly chanting, "Matthew, don't hit the wind machine. It is imperative that you don't hit the wind machine with the tractor. It's getting closer. Don't forget. Don't hit the wind machine..."
Okay. So now we're picturing me yesterday, on the tractor cruising through rows of vines. I am bundled from head to toe, a ball cap shades my eyes, and I'm now rocking out to Jethro Tull. My hand rhythmically moves a joystick back and forth, back and forth to guide a large steel blade in and out of the vines, pushing earth against them. My mind wanders to stave off boredom and monotony. I finish a row, turn the tractor and prepare to begin another, and I see one of the dumbest things on the property. A sight I'm by now familiar with (thanks to all of my tractoring), a large blue hydrant stands proud at the end of one of the vine rows... or rather, exactly in between two rows... right where any vehicle moving between the rows would have difficulty avoiding it. I don't know why it's there. It's just asking for trouble.
I noted the hydrant as I continued on beside it. "I [hoe in] should really [hoe out] remember to [hoe in] to be careful [hoe out] of that when I [hoe in] come back up the [hoe out] next row [hoe in]..." I traveled onward down the hill trying to think of some way to remember to be alert in another five minutes. My mind wandered. (It really is curious how your mind wanders when you're doing something that requires a great deal of attention and yet absolutely no brain power. It's kind of similar to the thoughts flying through your mind as you begin to fall asleep... intense, scattered and fleeting...) Back up the other side. [Ian Anderson sings: What a reason for waiting and dreaming of dreams...] End of the row. I look down and notice some irrigation piping I had safely laid aside earlier. Piping. Pipe. Hydrant. SHIT!!! I looked in front of me. No hydrant. (I was still moving forward.) Maybe this wasn't the row. I look behind me. There it was: a bent pipe gushing water, the remains of the hydrant fixture dragging behind me from the tractor. OHNOOHNOOHNOOHNO!!! I tried to stop the gushing, got wet, realized it was futile and ran to get boss man.
We headed up to the main shutoff valve for the domestic water for the entire farm, he chiding me the whole way. We shut the water off while he went to get a cap for the mangled pipe. I went to tell Colin and Anna how I was the source of the recent water scarcity. "Did you need the water for anything?" Colin replied, "Well, it was cooling the cooling tower for the still..." OHNOOHNOOHNO!! I ran back to turn the water on, a mini geyser better than a fried piece of expensive equipment. Too late. The still was okay, but the run had to be aborted. And back to shut off the water again. Lance came back with the cap, we screwed it on tight and I surrounded the pipe end with dirt so it wouldn't freeze. And back on the tractor until the sun set behind Grand Mesa.
Today, as soon as I spied the wind machine I started loudly chanting, "Matthew, don't hit the wind machine. It is imperative that you don't hit the wind machine with the tractor. It's getting closer. Don't forget. Don't hit the wind machine..."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)