Today's Pre-Ramble: It was with great satisfaction that I did the rounds of my blog friends late last night and found that many of them had touched on the same subject of stopping long enough to smell the flowers along the way, a call to "Carpe Diem". For those of you not as well versed in Latin as I, let me translate: it means "God Fish", not to be confused with "Goldfish" which would likely be expressed as "Carpe Aurum". Do NOT confuse this with "Crap Diem" which has something to do with a sandwich and "Poop du Jour". See? It pays to be well versed in the Romance languages. Considering how many European languages were so heavily influenced by the Roman Empire, how did we end up with our current definition of the English word "romance" or even the French word 'roman' (for a novel)? When I think of the Roman Empire, I tend to imagine vast legions of Italian good ol' boys raping and pillaging their way across the known reaches of the ancient world, lock-stepping in very ugly leather footwear and Fuller Brushes on top of their helmets - hardly what I would consider a romantic notion. But that's just me. Today's title, by the way, is French for 'Valley of Death". Any other linguistic mysteries to tackle while we're at it? But I digress. Just remember to Carpe Diem! a.k.a "Seize the catfish!"
But I am not the Fool of the Tarot deck and realize that someday you will grab the carp and get punctured by its infectious barbs. This profound realization also hit home late last night. Yes, it certainly was a busy night for philosophical indulgence.
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The new invaders by dayAs I completed my blog visits, I glanced at the clock and noticed that it was well past 1AM and that I had sorely tempted the generator to run out of fuel. As I shut down the computer, I heard an unusual bang which also commanded the intense attention of Brou and Beautiful Dave the Cat. I was hoping that something had not exploded in the new addition but when I stepped out there to light the propane heater, the room was in order and quiet. When I returned, the sound had morphed into a curious hissing/mechanical whir which I would expect from a 19th century automaton and was clearly coming through the slightly ajar hall window. This window still opened despite the thick icy condensate and I poked my head out into the cold night air to pinpoint the location of the noise. As my vision adjusted to the scant moonlight offered through a canopy of light clouds, I saw a thick cloud of gas rising unfettered from one of the nearest gas wells. I thought of the open-flame furnace I had just lit and of the many open flame pilots burning in the Rat and I prayed "Dear Jesus, please don't let those billowing death clouds envelope us!". I squinted into the darkness once more and saw that the forming layers of gas were now slowly drifting away to the West, towards the new and unannounced gas drilling rig like a great curtain of menace. I will admit to a volley of conflicting feelings as it drifted away from us and towards our canyon's latest invaders. But they were not feelings of hatred and revenge, more of a great sadness for this entire situation. I cannot feel anger towards the poor souls who eke out their livings in this harsh clime even though I resent the callousness of their corporate masters. In the end, I left it to the wisdom of those with greater insight than mine, shut the window as tightly as I could manage, shut down the furnace and the generator and retired to bed. A few minutes later, the hissing ceased and all returned to the canyon's usual quietude.
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The new invaders by nightThis was the second of our close calls in having to live with the gas industry in our back yard and I will recount that first and more dangerous episode next.
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36 comments:
A few tracer rounds might have set that cloud off. Just sayin'...
FHB, keep it up and I will make you stand in the corner with that bright yellow cheesehead tricorn on your head - you know how I can get, lil bro. luv ya!
Besides, on the practical side, the cloud was so dense it still would have taken us out, too.
Poop du jour. Is that the kind of pillow talk you use to romance your man?
Mais oui, absolument, ma Babzy! It helps a lot if you don't edumacate 'em in those Romance languages first. Then all it takes is a shy glance and uttering a "Cuh mon diddly poo?" with the right accent. They'll be nibbling on your arm right up to your neck just like the guy on the Munsters, trust me.
And here I thought Latin was a dead language. Silly me.
I hear tell carpe don't taste none too good, tho. ;-)
Oh Buck, how could you say such a thing? Latin may be laying on the floor twitching but it ain't dead yet. Just ask any lawyer; 'Pro Bono' is still a very common expression referring to the grand days of altruism before Sonny hit that tree while skiing.
NEVER eat a bottom feeder, Buck, we are all what we eat (or why the mountain lions leave me alone on my hikes).
Great post Lin, the intro had me chuckling at the keyboard while the next part had me worried for you guys.
To reinforce the old "truth stranger than fiction" cliche a couple over here will be selling carp raised in an organic manner this year. The trick is to put them in natural spring water for a week before harvesting.
Our Polish friends regard carp as a big deal, especially round the festive season.
I studied Latin for 5 years in school and have always maintained that it helped my understanding of English and French.
Loved the description of the Roman legions...quite a visual!
I'm with FHB...tracers after it drifts off toward the other end of the valley.
I don't have a good feeling about this. I guess that's why I elected to sell my lot at Fairfield. I couldn't have been a good decision anyway.
Okay..I am pretty much a gas well ignoramus ... BUT! .... it sounds like that hissing/banging/cloud thingy is dangerous...could it start a fire or explode??? Is it supposed to do that to relive pressure or something? I am very worried. You be careful.
Isn't catfish a bottom feeder? And I love a good plate of fried catfish and hush puppies and french fries.
I think I am getting these messages all mixed up ... I am imagining Sonny Bono saying "Cuh mon my diddly poo" to his wife Mary ... and it is not a good visual...specially with him being dead and all....
I always thought "poop du jour " was that first morning trip to the "john".
Doesn't that well have a flair stack for the excess gas or leaks?
Sorry about the switch-up from foolish to serious, dba. Life in general out here seems to run like that at times, too.
Catfish farms have been quite successful over here and their diet is primarily grains and corn from what I gather. I can see where the clarity of the water would help clear up their taste characteristics. I have been entertaining the idea of building a spring-fed pond here and starting our own supply. My great preference would be haddock but the biosphere options won't stretch that far, or at least haven't in the last epoch or two. Our Southerners have come up with delicious ways to present the catfish so I have finally succumbed.
I can absolutely see where Latin has helped your understanding of the French and English languages. I do wish I had studied it, especially when now faced Spanish as a prominent language here.
Mushy, you didn't see anything romantic in that visual either, did ya? I don't care how good their knees might have looked, it still doesn't cut it with me.
We'd have to get a good drift for sure. I really do wonder about the cause of that burnt out trailer skeleton out there. They sure aren't going to 'fess up.
Fairfield, where's that? There's a LOT of places out here where drilling will never be an issue. We knew there were wells here but nobody told us that the number would double right after our arrival. Our good timing as usual.
Towanda, you're not far off the mark there. These wells do vent on a regular basis. Thing is, you get used to what is normal and what is abnormal after a while. We barely notice the regular venting any more but when something goes wrong, we notice immediately. This sub-zero weather really aggravates the weak links in their equipment and systems.
Yep, catfish are definitely bottom-feeders. I love it when well-prepared but I have had (and made) some terrible meals with it. I have given it up until I can find a fryer with adequate heat. Gas ranges are TERRIBLE for deep frying! Oh yeah, deep fried with hush puppies, fries and maybe some cole slaw. Yee-yummm!
Hey, did Sonny and Cher to that French thing, too? I realized later that it was the Addams Family who did that, not the Munsters. I can't believe I got my weirdos mixed up like that. The shame!
Moose, the 'poop du jour' definitely becomes a mission and focus as we age, oft replacing sunshine as the true meaning of a good day.
No, these wells do not have a flare off feature - it's all directly vented into the air. Nice, huh? And, of course, it odorless so it can sneak up on you.
just dont smoke! :o)
Crikey! all that latin too... I think I have learned something today!
The Latin debate lends new weight to the theory of carp pooling!!!
Oh Simon, that would certainly bring new meaning to the old 'exploding cigar', wouldn't it? And talk about the potential of getting high quick!
If you thought all this Latin stuff was informative, just wait until I tackle the local native languages!
Oh David, you're either trying to bait me into more punning or muddy the waters. I'm not sure which but I will visiting you shortly with a vengeance volley.
"Carp pooling"...HAHAHAHAHAHA!!
This has me a little worried:
"This was the second of our close calls in having to live with the gas industry in our back yard and I will recount that first and more dangerous episode next."
THERE'S MORE?
AND IT'S WORSE????????
For heaven's sake ....what could be worse than gas wells popping and banging and hissing and leaking???
Come on .... get the next blog chapter written .... we're on pins and needles here....
Carpe diem to you. Gather ye rose-buds while ye may;
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today,
Tomorrow will be dying.
~Robert Herrick
If you'd only study the theories of flight, Lin, we'd probably learm how to launch a half pound of Gelignite right down the ole well hole. Just think of the pictures you could get.
Loved your explanation of Latin words. Waiting for your attack, er, deciphering of Mexican phrases.
Townada, wasn't that 'carp pooling' a wicked pun bomb? That's okay, I am delivering revenge for that over on his blog.
Oh yeah, this one was fairly benign by comparison. Thanks for the poke to get typing on the next story! Hey, didn't I hear that they just found rich gas deposits under Eldorado? At least the G Basin got a temporary stay of execution so you can still outdoor-grill without taking the neighborhood with you. Who said NM life might be boring anyway?
"Dear Jesus, please don't let those billowing death clouds envelope us!".
Quote of the day...
Cat, I will certainly keep harvesting the desert blooms as long as I can despite all my salvage efforts to date being less than successful.
I will have to look into theories of flight and possibly go back to study Bruno's soda can cannon.
I have every confidence that I will master Spanish, Mexican and the various Indian languages every bit as well as I have Latin thus far. I can almost guarantee it, in fact!
Hey, thanks, PopeT. When it always works on the important stuff, I go with it ... and remember to say Thank You a lot, just like our parents taught us.
Although the "pun master" himself did point me in this direction, I sure wasn't expecting the "carp pooling" one he left in your comments section! What a trip! But darned glad I made it too cause this was a great post!
Okay it's Monday. Where's Chapter two? Or have you eaten that darn carp? I know you've reached the top of the food chain, but carp?
And seeing that ugly monstrosity in your backyard is enough to make you complain to the local gendarmes. Oh, hahahahaha.
Jeni, is he the pun meister or what? After that beauty, I had to go over to his blog and lob a few back myself. Love it!
I am pleased to no end that you enjoyed this Val De Mart post - thank you so!
Is it Monday already, Cat? Me bad again.
We hit the top of the food chain and are on our way back down - eating carp and almost drinking the Cool-Aid.
I'd certainly rather have a 60 foot tall neon carp in the backyard than those monstrosities. And carp are more social to boot.
Some handy latin phrases for life on the range. .
My dog ate it.
Canis meus id comedit.
I did call. Maybe your answering machine is broken.
Sane ego te vocavi. Forsitan capedictum tuum desit.
Baby, Sweetheart, would I lie to you?
Amicule, deliciae, num is sum qui mentiar tibi?
The check is in the mail.
Perscriptio in manibus tabellariorum es
When catapults are outlawed, only outlaws will have catapults
Cum catapultae proscriptae erunt tum soli proscripti catapultas habebunt
It's not the heat, it's the humidity.
Non calor sed umor est qui nobis incommodat.
Ever noticed how wherever you stand, the smoke goes right into your face?
Animadvertistine, ubicumque stes, fumum recta in faciem ferri?
I am not lost.
Neutiquam erro.
In a world of hurt
Totus anctus
Hopefully
Utinam
Signs of the times ...
BEWARE OF DOG
CAVE CANEM
DO NOT DISTURB
NOLI PERTURBARE
KEEP OUT
NOLI INTRARE
And don't think these aren't being added to my ranch sign painter's repertoire without great appreciation, Lin M. As I type, I'm already leaning towards a fusion of the catapult and the 'world of hurt' sentiments. Hmphhh, that oughta keep them brutish Huns at bay for a bit! Maybe even those VisibleGoths. Thank you!
Oh, I can---er,could!---probably come up with something a little "sneakier" than the "can-cannon", but it wouldn't be as much fun.....!
Bruno, what ever you come up with, DO NOT remove the fun factor, okay? Hardly worth the effort if we can't get some good clean fun out of it at the same time.
I love that it's not just Dave the Cat, but Beautiful Dave the Cat.
Phlegmmy, I'm not sure when Beautiful Dave the Cat became 'Titled' but it stuck. The ladies at the vet's office laugh when I announce his name but when they take him out of the carrier, they invariably say "Ohhh, he IS beautiful!" Temperament and looks both. When I salvaged him as a badly abused stray, I would softly sing "It's a Beautiful Dave in the neighborhood ..." and he would stand up and hug and squeeze my leg like a little kid might. Yeah, I am a sap for such things.
Hi Lin, I'm all behind in my reading again. I'm taking a semi-break from blogging but will still be around here and there now and then. This depression is creeping back and I need to take some time to get it under control.
My sister suggests I go on the computer in the morning with coffee and again just before bedtime. In between - shut it right down so I'm not tempted and if I don't get to everyone, there's always tomorrow.
Blogging is a great way to escape the world but overdoing it makes things worse. It becomes a place to hide. Even the pressure of trying to keep up is causing me stress and anxiety right now.
Does that make sense? Don't forget me. xx
Babzy, what you just said makes PERFECT sense to me. Being the third dyslectic wonder of the world, it overwhelms me trying to keep up with everyone. I am left breathless by the number of blog posts and visits and comments on other folks blogs that some can achieve. Being limited to generator time does limit my computer time but I doubt I could keep up, even with power 24/7.
I like your sister's suggestion that you restrict access time and not worry if you don't finish your usual rounds. We will all still be here when you feel like visiting and have the time. NOT to worry!
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