Sometimes life is so mundane it is not even recognized as "life as we know it." I know it's difficult to imagine that someone such as myself, someone so dynamic and multi-talented, that my life could be momentarily dull. It may also surprise you that I have come to enjoy those moments of quiet inactivity. I know, I know. Some of you have imagined my life as being similar to a high speed roller coaster twisting and turning, going upside down and trying to throw me into the stratosphere. It's not that I haven't had actual moments like that, screaming down the highway with total disregard, but for the most part my life is more like someone caught in start and stop traffic in a busy city, frustrated with the inability to get where I am going in a timely manner.
Today, for example, I have to clean the stalls in the barn. I had put the horses in the other night because it had been raining on them all day with temperatures just above freezing. They have shelter, but they still manage to get fairly wet and the wind was picking up. So, with my muck boots and trusty manure fork, I will make the horsey hotel presentable again. Until the next crappy weather event. Beats going to a gym.
Speaking of weather (here comes boring), it has been unusual to say the least. You must understand that talking about the weather in Northern Minnesota is not considered "small talk." It is right up there with religion and politics and is just as controversial. If you have ever spent any time in this state you would understand. Having grown up (allegedly) in Delaware (yes, I did go to high school with George Thorogood) I found it to be an odd thing that people were always talking about the weather as though something should be done about it. Normally we would have a foot or two of snow and be warming up into the 20's (-5C). We only occasionally get below freezing at night this year.
Speaking of speaking in Minnesota, the people here do not believe they have an accent. Some were downright offended when I told them it is not the Queen's English they are speaking. They say the movie Fargo and apparently the TV series of the same name (I haven't seen it yet) exaggerate the sound of Minnesotan. Not by much. If you get into the rural areas of the state it starts to sound more like Sven and Ole. "Ver yew bin to Ole?" "I yust bin loggin in da wuts" No wonder they can't understand anyone from Alabama.
Gone are the days when the CIA would call when they needed to run special ops against the Russians. They erased my memory well enough that I only get bits of what happened in my dreams. The strength and stamina of youth are gone, but at least the older I get the better I was. I remember enough to put some stories together, but Robert Ludlum already did something like that with the Bourne series. I don't want to take away any of his glory. It's just the kind of guy I am. Even when under surveillance by the FBI back in '74 I never took advantage of the situation to write a best seller. Could have retired long ago.
It's true that I could go outside on the deck, plug in 100 watts of pure Marshall crunch and make the neighbors think they are in a remake of Woodstock. Even with their windows closed. I just don't want them all coming over like the last time when Clapton came for a quick visit. We just play acoustic now so he can get some peace and quiet.
So, you see, I have been around the block, but I am grounded in reality. Tomorrow's big project is changing out the old water softener and replacing it with a nice new shiny bright one from the modern era. I have talked a neighbor into giving me a hand. Maybe we'll have a beer and talk about the things we may or may not have done in the past. You know, relive the glory days when we were living on the edge, foot free and fancy loose. Was it fact or was it fiction? Does it really matter?