The American River

The rains that started on Wednesday finally stopped today.  Despite the mild flooding in our back yard and seepage into a couple of rooms in the house, we are no worse for the weather.  Everything is plush and green now, and we enjoyed our walk along the swollen Río de los Americanos. 

I am thankful for this place.

Writer's Block

It has been months since I've felt compelled to visit my blog and express myself in words but now that December has arrived, think I will feel more inclined to do so.  Just not right now.

Funk, out.

I'm Not In Kansas Anymore

Good day, good reader, and apologies to the state of Kansas for neglecting to include you in the list of states that were visited as part of my transamerican tour 2012. How could I forget the 417 mile drive in 103 degree temperatures that scorched your vast fields of sorghum, wheat, and acres of wilted sunflowers? And although it was not made of yellow bricks, the road that led us to Wamego was a pleasant nine mile ride to a "small town, big experience".   Had we not seen this sign, we would have driven right by:

How could we not visit a museum dedicated to George's favorite movie and, as a bonus round, grab lunch at Toto's Tacoz?  It was settled.  We were off to see the wizard, and with our little dog too.

We parked in front of the museum which I thought remarkable considering the popularity of the movie classic and allure of the signage:

Since little dogs were not allowed inside the building, George suggested that swag procurement would be the most sensible use of our time.  It was difficult to choose which item was most worthy of my cash, but was satisfied with my choice: 

 The caribiner broke somewhere between Kansas and Nevada but otherwise, the vessel works just fine.  We may not  be in Kansas anymore, but there really is no place like home.

Until the next time, have courage enough to funk things up with as much joy that you can muster.

~T.

A Blog Revisited: Where the Funk Have You Been?

 

Hello dear reader, and welcome back!  A lot of shift has happened in my life since my last post and considering that I promised to only share my thoughts here when I feel like it, think an apology isn't necessary.  If you need an apology, I'm sorry that you won't get one.   Just know that you've been missed, and I'll make more of an effort to stay in touch more often. 

So, where the funk have you been since my last post? 

If you are familiar with the United States, you are probably aware that it is a pretty big country.  Not the biggest, mind you, but a BFC just the same.  How big, you ask?  Approximately three million and seventy-nine and four-tenths of square miles, and that includes water which you definitely want to take enough of before you set out to measure a nation. 

During the course of measuring America in July, George, Stella and I stopped many times for water and ice to keep ourselves hydrated. A triple-digit heat wave had gripped most all of the mid-western states which made the trip "pretty, pretty dang hot" as some disc jockey's in Missouri might say. 

To see massive fields of corn and soy beans wilting in the heat was, and still is, a significant concern for farmers who, according to signs posted along the highways of Missouri, feed an average of 128 people a day.

It took ten days to drive a fully loaded Ford Focus from Vermont to California, which included stops in Rhode Island, West Virginia, Ohio, Missouri, Colorado, Utah and Big Basin National Park in Nevada.  Camping at 10,000 feet above sea level gave us a long overdue respite from the heat and despite my nosebleed, had managed to stay in good spirits over the entire course of our journey.

I am still actively adjusting to my new environment and think that Sacramento will eventually accept me as a Californian.  Until then, I'll do my best to funk with people in a joyful way to let them know I'm here. 

~T.

 

Welcome Back! I Missed You!

Hello dear reader, and thank you for stopping by to see if I've added any content to my blog.
My last post was in October, just before we started the Funk Haus Art Garden Octoberfest celebrations. It was a good celebration and lasted through most of November until the wintry season began to kick in and froze everything. Now that my fingers have fully thawed, I thought I would take five minutes and write something here lest you thought I had forgotten about you.



Vermont has received a lot of snow since November and when I say "a lot" I'm talking apocalyptic proportions. If you don't believe me, check out the photo of my car that I took on March 7th, a day after the latest storm dumped 24 plus inches on us. It's a compact car mind you, but unearthing my little red auto required the brute strength of one handsome man with a hearty headed shovel to dig it out and get me on the road again.

There are days during the long stretch between seeing soil and the green returning to these mountains when I am convinced that this will be my last winter in Vermont, and that very well might be true considering we may not see springtime until summer is nearly through.

Here's hoping that spring will arrive sooner as opposed to later and that you can funk things up just enough to help spread a little more joy in the world.

Until next time -
Funk, out.

Oktoberfest, American Style

I've not been blogging as frequently as I had originally intended but am going to let myself be okay with it. "Less is more" someone once said, and I believe this to be true. Especially in the realm of blogs. But of course, there is always an exception.

One such exception is Oktoberfest at the Funk Haus Art Garten (FHAG) in Middlebury, VT. The underground social club originated as an homage to my Bohemian ancestors (pretty kick-ass coat of arms, don't you think?) who, like me, believed that less was more in most cases, with the exception of a few things. Oktoberfest was one of them.

The Bavarian celebration typically lasts between 16 - 20 days beginning the last week in September but being the Bohemians that my ancestors were, decided to "Funk the Germans!" and drank beer daily for three months while cooking up huge portions of Schweinsbraten and grilled hendl to sustain them through the cold and bitter winter season.

The Oktoberfest celebration to honor my Bohemian heritage began yesterday and will conclude when the hendl and schweinsbraten have all been eaten and the keg of beer runs out. Until then, I'll be doing what I can to share a little more joy in the world and funk things up just enough to keep life interesting.

I hope you will do the same.

The Six-million Dollar Bridge to Nowhere

Hello my dear and literate readers! I've missed you terribly and wish I had something really fantastic to write about to welcome you back but alas, life has been a bit of a suck-fest lately and I just haven't felt joyful enough to engage in writing.

Today, however, is Friday and for this I am truly thankful.

I, like so many other Middlebury residents, eagerly await the opening of the $6 million bridge in the middle of our town and fabulous round-a-bout that has, thus far, done nothing more than cause another traffic jam during peak travel times in this town. I especially have enjoyed watching the big semi-trucks and agricultural machinery trying to negotiate the narrow lanes of the design and look forward to the winter plow truck snafus that will surely ensue. I can almost hear them cursing from behind the steering wheel as they drive over the fancy cobblestone curbs to avoid tipping their trailer over.
A brilliant design indeed!

Even more entertaining has been the constant parade of people who now come to gaze at the marvel that is the bridge. (I live in the gray house you see in the photo which affords a great vantage point to watch the huge amount of money being spent on a daily basis by the town and tax payers.) "Oh look, Martha! A bridge! Take a picture and be sure to get the port-a-let and debris in the background."

"Okay, Earl", says the guy who thinks he is the crew's boss, "park the front loader so that it blocks as much of the road surface as possible and then stretch that orange plastic fencing across the entrance. Be sure to secure it to the flimsy stick and make shift hand-rail." The next day, Earl comes back and finds the plastic fencing has been shifted to allow pedestrian traffic to flow more easily. "What the???" he says. "Don't these people get it?"

No, Earl. We don't.

Until next time, Funk out and do it like you mean it.