Skull and Loaves

JWise Photo of the Day

Cat Skull found in Phoenix, Arizona

The whiskers and canines should be the giveaway that Caroline harvested this cat’s head from its rotting corpse that for the past six months has been baking next to the road where we walk every day. The first few days, we were certain the poor cat was going to be picked up by some sort of animal control service, but that never happened. A concerned citizen moved its body from near the street to the other side of the sidewalk and that’s where it stayed. For some weeks, the smell of dead kitty was a wretched one and the sight of the ants followed by maggots devouring it while leaving its fur intact was an interesting process. A month after it died the fur still looked like you could pet it and then it rained.

Matted and disintegrating it just laid around all day and night. Occasionally a dog or maybe some kids with a stick would disturb its resting place but for the most part, it just became more and more desiccated in the hot desert sun. Yesterday was different though as Caroline fell behind a second while I was ahead picking up trash with my bucket and grabber so I thought nothing of things until I turned around and saw her squatting over the open grave with her hand at ground level extracting the skull of the cat from the broken and twisted pelt with bones that had been a living creature half a year ago. No, I can’t believe it either that she just reached down and collected her cat skull trophy. That though is not the worst part. As I approached her with the obvious intent of taking a photo of her grave-robbing prowess, she fished out whatever it was that was still filling its eye socket so it would look more skull-like instead of rotting animal-like. She was about to de-beard it when I stopped her, saying the whiskers made it look more natural. She brought it home with plans to finish cleaning it and then I have no idea what she’ll do with it, maybe it’ll become a candle holder?

Caroline Wise and a braided loaf of bread in Phoenix, Arizona

This ginormous twisted braid of bread fresh out of the oven is a whole wheat egg loaf that almost resembles real challah except this one is industrial size. Next time she’ll halve the recipe. Well, that was my wife’s weekend, what did yours do?

Virtual Whitewater Rafting

JWise Photo of the Day

Virtual Yampa River Rafting Group

For the past few days at 10:00 a.m. Caroline and I get to board our virtual raft and head down the Yampa River for some digital adventures during this time that none of us get to travel in real life. Our whitewater guides Chris and Charles reached out to a bunch of former clients who’d been on river trips with them in the past and asked if anyone would be interested in a bit of an experiment. Without hesitation, we signed up. The premise was that we’d explore what it would be like to venture down the river using Zoom and segments of the river trip itself that Google captured with StreetView some years ago.

On Saturday, May 16th we joined with Chris, Charles, and fellow guests Jen and Steve and headed over to the virtual put-in. A couple of guests didn’t show sadly so it was an intimate trip, but we understood that it took a different breed of brave souls for this first descent down the Yampa River at near flood stage. The put-in was familiar to all of us as Jen and Steve had also traveled the Yampa, but have been lucky enough to run the Gates of Lodore up the Green River too. On each day the guys took over the virtual oars and took us into a story about the river or engaged us to share memorable moments from our own river trips. Along the way, we learned a bit more of the history and refresher lessons about particular aspects of the river and the geology that the river flows through.

Yampa River in Colorado

This photo is from the Yampa trip Caroline and I were on back in 2014; was our virtual journey as spectacular? Of course not, but the interesting aspect of this undertaking is that we spent nearly 4 hours with this group of river enthusiasts who, like us, love rivers. That commonality between us allowed the six of us to share moments of the magic found on river trips and reminded us of our own specific adventures in years past. Listening to the passion of each person was a potent reminder of the effect rivers have on people. So in that sense, the boatmen succeeded in creating a memorable moment that took us outside of our comfort as we had to quickly adapt to a situation that involved others we didn’t know beforehand as we navigated a process and path that was unique to all of us.

We’d gladly join another virtual river trip if for no other reason than to support boatmen who are out of work during what should be the busy season but also because river trips are all about finding it deep within us to see things differently. I would be a fool to scoff at the idea that this wasn’t valuable as first and foremost it was the passion of Charles and Chris and their need to share from their experience that is one of those human traits we should all aspire to. Thank you guys for the effort and for getting us out of our stay-at-home routines during these difficult times.

Drifting

JWise Photo of the Day, Thoughts

Fascist propaganda in our neighborhood here in Phoenix, Arizona

I live in America, where we love us some good hate. Liberty for those who are like us is what we want, and death would be a fitting end for those who offend our pure sense of an archaic aesthetic. It’s tragic how this works for every racial/ethnic group on Earth in some way. Everyone is different and not like us unless they belong to our cult. There’s almost a hint of comedy in these groups that speak of great individualism and true freedom while practicing conformity that has no room for freedom outside of strict guidelines.

Humanism is my brand of wackiness where, delusionally, I have this half-baked idea that we are better off embracing one another, sharing knowledge, and enriching each other’s lives. Of course, I could be naive, and the conveniences of modern life could be had by enslaving minions who have no other options, but what do I know, as I’m not a white supremacist? Why is this even here on my blog today? Because Caroline found this sticker on a lamppost in our neighborhood while we were out walking in the morning.

No guns, no virus at the Social Security Office for Child Care in Phoenix, Arizona

Normally, we just walk around the block, and I tend to avoid the businesses and offices along our route as they hold nothing that appeals to me. Yes, the shops in our area are mostly worthless to us. For example, we have a local Department of Economic Security office that is a near-constant shitshow. I know this sounds harsh, but prior to the COVID shutdown, if I were to drive by (because in those times, I’d never walk along this particular stretch of road), the people who would loiter and cavort in the parking lot were not of my social group. (Hmmm, this sounds nearly as dismissive as the right-wingers I was just writing about in the paragraph above.)

So my bias and contradictory bullshit obviously put me in some kind of elitist position in which I think people of lesser means are below me – though that’s not right as I certainly believe everyone needs some help from time to time – but back to the shitshow comment before I explain the photo. My reference is about the fact that on any given day (prior to COVID), there was an obvious modus operandi at work at this facility where meth, alcohol, lack of birth control, poor education, and poor choices all around are part of the DNA of many of the applicants. True, there are always extenuating circumstances due to abuse, violence, brain damage, fetal alcohol poisoning, and various other traumas that might be influencing things, but that doesn’t excuse our society from putting people through even more bullshit by forcing them to congregate at the Church of Begging for Assistance or CBA.

This has gone way off track and is indicative of me drifting from one thing to another with little to connect the disparate elements of my wandering. Back to the photo: On the other side of the CBA is the Child Care Administration. I didn’t know this prior to walking up to check out all the signage. That’s when I was struck that between the signs about social distancing and not coming in if the visitor or their child has any symptoms of illness or respiratory distress was the sign informing visitors that guns are not allowed.

Here, you are visiting a place to request help for your children, but maybe you are packing a weapon just in case you have to leave empty-handed. You know what you came for, and you ain’t leaving without it, so you brought a loaded weapon in the off chance you have to waste the scum asshole at the desk who could deny you cash right in front of your child. The plan was to pull out the .45 and shove a bullet in their head in order to maintain self-respect and teach your child who’s the boss, except that’s not allowed here, and there’s a sign that enforces this rule.

A bee collecting pollen from a cactus flower in Phoenix, Arizona

If it wasn’t for the bees, flowers, clouds, cacti, trees, sky, stars, birds, lizards, and even the pesky flies, I’d be overwhelmed by our lack of compassion, common sense, intelligence, and passion to better ourselves. The bee is bettering the hive by selflessly taking many trips to random flowers and then tediously flying up to the uncaring stamen to collect some, not all, of the pollen. Packed onto her hind legs, the corbiculae are delivered back to her mates, where the feast ensues. At the hive, she will allow the other bees to suck the nectar she drank along its journey from her stomach, draining water and adding enzymes until only honey remains. This cooperative existence of sharing abundance works for an insect with a brain 20,000 times smaller than ours and is a testament to just how stupid we humans are.

Hidden in the Shadows

JWise Photo of the Day, Thoughts

Shadows of Caroline Wise and John Wise in Phoenix, Arizona

We no longer live out on the stage of what was a normal life; we are not on vacation in some iconic location; we are not on our way anywhere familiar. We are instead existing at home, living in our minds, traveling beyond the shadows of who we were. On the other side of those former persons that were us, of the people who saw the world through the eyes of “things are the way they are,” are different people who cannot take for granted that those “things” will stay the way they were. The waves of the ocean no longer crash upon the shore we knew but, instead, roll in towards senses hungry to feast on such rarities momentarily forbidden.

Of course, it’s always been this way, but we didn’t want the brevity of our experiences and time on Earth to stand in front of our consciousness, flailing the arms of certain death that this is all temporary. We trick ourselves and reassure our inner dialog that we can do this or that tomorrow, next week, next year, or simply, someday. We remain largely unaware that as the day passes, the shadow of our life expectancy grows shorter. Early in the morning, our shadows stretch far, and likewise, early in our lives, the horizon is difficult to see, while comprehending it may forever elude some. What are we supposed to do with an infinite horizon where time has no meaning?

Disappearing from our normal lives in this state of self-isolation, threatened by the hostility of an invisible stalker called COVID-19, should awaken those who cannot see beyond their noses. Fear of the unknown and desire for the familiar have them waiting for a return to their routines. This has not become the opportunity to find new regard for the transient nature of life and the ephemeral, fleeting impressions brought to their senses by novelty. It is the control mechanism of the oppressor. It is the abusive father, the demanding teacher, the tyrant found in one’s boss. This though is a myopic view of the person who never learned of their own agency. They have mastered the role of the victim and have grown comfortable hiding in the margin of life, not emerging from fear.

Granted, there are those who are in dire need of counseling, continuing education, or financial assistance who simply must do what it takes in order to survive, but that, too, is a consequence of living in the moment of not understanding what’s ahead. The inability to have been prepared for life is the same as walking towards the cliff and hoping that the hand of God will be there to catch you before you fall into the void. If we can understand the folly of such a stupid act, how do we blind ourselves to the need to have life safety nets? The answer is relatively easy, even if assumptive: nobody really cares about those around them. In that sense, we are not holding one another’s hands and helping each other along.

Masked John Wise and Caroline Wise in Phoenix, Arizona

Too many live behind masks even when they are not wearing ones of a physical nature. When I go shopping, I see many men obviously not comfortable wearing a surgical mask, and yet the masks they are wearing, as a consequence, speak more about them and their selfishness than simply being out shopping can portray. How well do these people really know themselves if they cannot empathize with those who are looking to live? Am I suggesting that those without masks are likely narcissistic, angry assholes? Yes.

The funny thing about my gross characterization is that I’ve often been called a narcissistic asshole myself because of my determination to get what I want. I don’t try to get things in life at the expense of others (though there are those who would call bullshit on that); then again, they want someone who will do for them what they fail to inspire themselves to do, so there’s that. Their masks are the ones of having lived under a shadow of isolation where love was something found in movies for women or was experienced as a good fuck, but still, their lives remained empty.

I’m taking inventory of things I might be taking for granted, though I thought I was fully appreciative of all that I stumbled upon. For example, Caroline and I were always pinching ourselves at our good fortune of being able to travel so much that we had the means. Maybe I didn’t quite understand how lucky I was to have eyes, ears, and other senses that are able to be present at places of beauty, historic importance, or some other element of grandeur. I knew that I had the characteristics of a person who wanted to explore, but I thought those were common. I’ve assumed that others, if they had the financial capability, would indulge themselves in a lifelong ambition to seek out knowledge and experience, but COVID-19 is showing me, or maybe to some degree reinforcing, the idea that those who want to remain in old habits have no interest in what the unknown has to offer.

It’s easy to know that Caroline and I on a desert island would need 60 rolls of toilet paper per year or that we eat about 200 pounds of onions between us over those same 365 days, so we can now plan accordingly before we’re shipwrecked. Yes, this has been gleaned over the past 44 days of self-isolation. As a matter of fact, seeing how COVID-19 might return later this year, this knowledge may prove helpful during the fall and winter. What’s not easy to know is how we are changing after hearing so many birds in our neighborhood or seeing so many lizards growing fat as the days grow warm. We could not have known how generous we’d feel to help others during this crisis or how mistrustful of those who are not aware of the space they are in. There’s almost no food waste in our lives right now and we are happy to be frequently making our own cereal and bread. We are happy to explore our hobbies and wish there was even more time in the day to explore the interests that feed our minds.

Once we are able again to venture out to other places we’ll be in our car and heading somewhere, likely to the Oregon coast. This next trip, though will be aware of what part of us we have to leave behind and of that part of us in self-isolation that was dormant as our new routines had us stuck in our immediate environment. I hope our senses will be flush with the symbiotic and profound awareness of awe that our real freedom is always there and is ever-present so long as we maintain intellectual forward motion. Our happiness seems premised on the idea that we can neither live in the shadows of hope nor behind the mask of fear and uncertainty. We cannot trade one form of self-isolation for the illusion of freedom found in another flavor of self-isolation. We must go forward and deeper within every day.

Morning Walk

JWise Photo of the Day

Barrier Free Nature Trail in Phoenix, Arizona

We no longer miss a single day of going out for a walk. We still wake at about the same time, but without the confrontation of having to deal with rush hour traffic, it feels like the start of the day is more relaxed and need not be so hectic. I’ve written of our mile loop around our neighborhood a couple of other times and I’ve written about this walk too when I was penning a short story titled, I Am The Toad almost exactly a year ago. Today we are again at the Barrier-Free Nature Trail at the Reach 11 Area. Strange name I know but that’s what it is.

Barrier Free Nature Trail in Phoenix, Arizona

The pond was mostly quiet just after sunrise with only a couple of croaks also know as ribbits over at the tree line. The memory of hundreds of frogs singing to us though could easily be heard. The funny thing about this pleasant walk into a xeroriparian area which is also referred to as a dry wetland is that the change in temperature from the streetside parking lot to the pond is significant. Even on the rare summer days that we walk out here, the main wooded area is much cooler than the open desert. This, of course, has us wondering if all of Phoenix was at one time cooler before the thousands of miles of asphalt, endless cinderblock walls, and concrete was strewn in all directions?

Barrier Free Nature Trail in Phoenix, Arizona

It’s sometimes strange out here, feeling like we’ve been transported out of the desert and into a savannah where at any moment a large cat lying in wait is around the corner, ready to pounce. Instead, we only see traces of man and his dog. We’ll return in about a week to see how the environment changes as summer is soon to approach and we’re also hoping the population of frogs explodes so we can once again delight in their song.

Self-Isolation Day 1

JWise Photo of the Day, Thoughts

Clouds over Phoenix, Arizona

That breakfast we skipped yesterday took us out of our isolation nest this morning as we got out early to ensure there was nearly no one else in the place. Being regulars, we know that customers don’t really start showing up until about 7:00, and we knew we’d be gone well before that. We tipped one of our favorite servers the equivalent of about six weeks’ worth of tips in cash so she’d have access to it right away instead of having to wait for payday. We told her we hoped to see her in a couple of weeks, but who knows? Before we left, she let us know that as a single mom with three kids earning about $18,000 a year and being notified a week ago that she was being audited by the IRS, which would delay her refund by six weeks to six months, she’s in a serious pinch right now. Our generosity brought her to the edge of tears.

Oh, how I’d like to share that we went directly home after this outing so we could get serious about planting ourselves, but of course, there were “just” a few other things I wanted. You may ask, seriously, John, were those raw pumpkin seeds really that important? I have this perfect balance of things in my head for making that granola I wrote about yesterday, and while I maybe could have substituted hemp hearts, I thought if we arrived at the store early enough, we could top up our pumpkin seed supply. You know that movie World War Z with Brad Pitt, where the zombies are trying to scale the wall? That’s almost what the scene at our local Winco was, as they opened the doors at 7:00. We were pulling into the lot as a horde swarmed into the store in about 4 seconds. So, while I knew what just happened, the parking lot wasn’t so full that I thought the store was overwhelmed yet, so we went in. No pumpkin seeds in the bulk section, so we grabbed some additional oranges, limes, lemons, tomatoes, avocadoes, and nail polish and remover so we could paint each other’s toes.

So we stayed home after that, right? Of course not. Caroline was helping a friend empty a storage unit and move its contents to another unit down the street. We left early so we could visit our local Balkan Bakery on Bell Road for some kefir and left with a beef burek and a chunk of some mystery smoked meat that is supposed to add a nice flavor to beans. With the wife getting a ride home from her friend, I was once again heading to isolation.

On my way home finally, it dawned on me that yesterday we had wanted to stop at the Euro Market on Cave Creek Road for kefir, but we already have some. What’s one more, especially if I dump the goat kefir that Caroline hasn’t been enjoying anyway? In this shop and seeing some interesting large white beans, I scoured the joint for some kvas but the lady didn’t even know what the stuff was. I know; I’ll try Misha’s on Union Hills. They don’t carry it anymore as they’ve changed their market focus by becoming Misha’s Kosher Food Market, but Misha recommended I visit his brother’s shop on 32nd Street called Yasha From Russia. Not wanting to leave Misha’s empty-handed I picked up some kosher stuffed peppers, stuffed cabbage, smoked sprats, and roasted eggplant in tomato.

At Yasha’s, I’m kind of tripping out by the Russian hipster guys with undercuts, seriously tight red pants, and tight red shirts talking Russian to me; maybe they think that by carrying a bottle of Kvas I’m some kind of Gopnik in the making. I try to tell them it’s for my wife, but they then ask if she’s Russian, “No, she’s German, but she’s serious about transforming into a Gopnitsa after watching too much Life of Boris.” They have no idea what I’m talking about. With that, I went home and arrived just after Caroline did.

We made it nearly an hour at home before it was time to go for a walk around the block. For the past few days, I’ve not been cleaning up the path of our walk as I had been since November 1st, as our 5-gallon bucket has been full of rainwater we collected while things were torrential here recently. The bucket of water has now been depleted after Caroline drenched her cactus and other plants. Over these previous four and a half months I’ve picked up something around about 1,000 pounds of trash. Lately, though, I’m seeing an abundance of wet wipes and tissues as people wipe down their COVID-infected surfaces and then toss the contaminated shit out of their windows.

The neighborhood is back in sanitary equilibrium, except for the constant dogshit that blights our walk. So it goes. Time to make granola. An hour later, my almond, walnut, pumpkin seed, sunflower seed, flaxseed, oat groat, and oatmeal granola is mixed with eucalyptus honey, coconut oil, homemade vanilla extract and put into the dehydrator for the next two days.

On to making dinner, though by this time, I’m ready to go out and maybe get some Mexican food. Who am I kidding I’ll certainly not be heading into a restaurant during their busiest part of the day, but some Mexican food sounds really good right now. After dinner, you might guess that we will be out for our next 1-mile walk around the block, which will take us both over 6 miles for the day.

While I toil in the kitchen, Caroline doesn’t sit idly by; she’s been working on her sewing machine to finally make our new pillowcases. Last November, while in Oregon, we picked up some seaside-themed cloth, and now we’ll be sleeping on those so we can dream of one of our favorite places on earth. Our step and activity goals were similar to yesterday’s, with us clocking up just over 15,000 steps or just over 7 miles (11.4km) and 105 minutes of activity.

So this has been the blow-by-blow rundown of the majority of our day. Like clouds, we just keep moving.