Frosty Desert Morning

Frosty morning in Phoenix, Arizona

This is not just any frost, this is hoar frost, and as much as I seriously want to write it “mistakenly” as being of the whore type, that would just be juvenile. I can already hear Caroline saying, “You idiot, you might as well have just written whore frost because anyone who knows you knows that’s exactly what you wanted to do, Mr. Grandpa Wise humorist.” Well, I can’t agree with this idea that I deserve her derision no matter how she wants to pigeonhole me into categories that could never pertain to me because I’m certainly beyond reproach.

But I’m going off course here as this isn’t about dumb humor (I mean genius) it’s about me taking note of the fact that on February 24th, we experienced such cold that I was able to break out my shell, scarf, and gloves one more time before I have to return to my morning walks wearing a banana hammock in the excruciating heat we must endure in this desert hell we call home. Yeah, I know, this was the perfect setup for talking about how hell has frozen over. I’m telling you, I’m full of these great one-liners, ain’t I, wife?

Brown Marmorated Stink Bug

Brown Marmorated Stink Bug in Phoenix, Arizona

I was on my way out when I spotted this brown marmorated stink bug on the handrail of our stairs. Last year I found one inside our place and without hesitation I whacked it, and that’s when I learned that these things are stink bugs. I’d taken the photo with my camera phone, my crap camera phone of a now ancient Samsung S9+ with the thought that I’d only look up what kind of bug this is specifically. Little did I know that should have grabbed my Canon DSLR and the macro lens but with my old man’s eyes, I had no idea how beautiful its patterning is. Uh oh, here comes the grandpa humor…this bug reminds me of my wife, nice to look at but occasionally stinky 🙂

Homeless Jenga

Junk on electrical box in Phoenix, Arizona

This moment was brought to you by our incessant walking with the goal of reaching 10,000 steps a day. On our usual route there is an electrical box behind which homeless people have been known to sleep, shoot drugs, store junk, or leave random things. Today is one of those random things days. A scattering of thumbtacks, golf tees, paper clips, straight pins, and a few other items lay helter-skelter atop the box. Where’d they come from? What is their purpose? I can only surmise that this was a late-night session of homeless Jenga where the meth demanded they do something other than pick at scabs.

Kraut

Homemade Sauerkraut

Back on January 3rd, I stopped in at my local Whole Foods to buy 22 pounds of organic cabbage. In the days prior, it began to look as if the weather might be cooperative this year; it can’t be too hot or too cold, or the project I wanted to embark on wouldn’t work. I had to acquire a new mandoline slicer as our old mandoline was no longer with us. I tried one time to shred this much cabbage by hand, but that is a horrible task. Another reason why I haven’t done this in a while, the lid of our 10-liter ceramic crock had first cracked and then broke in two after something fell on it off the kitchen counter. Caroline since then glued the pieces back together with an adhesive that was not food grade, but my feeling was that the lid never comes into contact with any of the contents of the crock.

So, with about 10 heads of cabbage cored and quartered into 40 pieces, I started slicing and stuffing the cabbage into the crock. After every six quarters added, I threw a tablespoon of salt on top, mixed it with my hand, and pressed it down. And this is what I did for the next couple of hours. The added salt breaks down the cells of the cabbage, and putting pressure on the shredded pieces allows me to fit it all in the crock. By the time I’m reaching the end of the slicing and I’ve made a huge mess of the counter and floor, the compressed cabbage has given up so much fluid that I have a good 2 inches of brine sitting atop the cabbage. All that is left is to put on the lid, fill the V-shaped rim with water, write the date on a piece of tape on the lid and wait.

Homemade Sauerkraut

Thirty-six days later it’s time to empty the crock. I’d wanted to wait until the 42nd day, but the temperatures are going up here in Phoenix, Arizona, and at a certain point the fermenting cabbage will turn soft and maybe even develop a strong alcoholic taste, which I don’t want. With that in mind, I pull the crock that’s been turning cabbage into sauerkraut up off the floor in the corner and get ready to start packing kraut into jars, 8 of them as it turns out. With 2 gallons or 7.5 liters of this German superfood, we lose a bit of refrigerator space but gain at least 8 months of fresh homemade sauerkraut. If you should think this isn’t as sexy as visiting the Grand Canyon, you’d be seriously wrong, but then again, how many people out there are able to indulge in such luxuries?

What’s Going On?

Working setup at King Coffee in Phoenix, Arizona

I need to post something today to fill the gap between trips and to keep me from wondering years from now, “Just what happened between Death Valley and the Grand Canyon?”

Well, here it is. Like after so many other trips I’m typically saddled with a lot of photos. On that recent weekend trip to Death Valley, I shot 949 images. The Monday following, just like after any get-away, I had to work on prepping the photos that hadn’t been done while we were out. Once that’s finished (in this case, it turned out I’d chosen 68 images to accompany 3 blog posts), I started writing. This kept me busy until Thursday; at that point, I needed a down day and I might have spent Friday between talking at my local favorite coffee shop, doing chores at home, shopping, reading, or any combination of those things.

Getting “back on track” I wasn’t interested in writing as much as I wanted to return to some deeper reading. Over the past couple of months, I’d finished In the Dust of This Planet: Horror of Philosophy by Eugene Thacker, The Third Unconscious by Franco “Bifo” Berardi, and was making progress in The Age of Disruption: Technology and Madness in Computational Capitalism by Bernard Stiegler, but I was stumbling with this last one so I’ve turned to A Thousand Plateaus by Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari. Whoa there, from super complex to mega-complex, are you sure that’s the path you want to take? I’m not certain but I’m thinking that it might help pave the way to that end. I do write notes to myself trying to explain what I think I’m figuring out from some of these obtuse writings that typically wouldn’t find their way to a blog but this is different as I’m filling a space to let future self know what I was doing here in early 2022. So for example, here’s a paragraph I wrote a couple of days ago where I’m trying to understand Deleuze’s writing on strata:

As we fix on certainty (arrogance and ego) we limit ourselves to living in the corner of the tiniest universe while searching for stability and the absence of chaos because the turmoil of uncertainty frightens those not prepared for exploration. Disrupting our ideas could lead to us challenging what we believe are foundations of maturity as that’s what we are graded and promoted on. In these situations, only those who hire, fire, arrest, grant credit, and allow our existence have authority. We are helpless and can’t think for ourselves, that was buried in some long-lost strata, which by definition is rigid and inescapable until the underlying foundation (earth/reality) convulsed, thus upsetting the order of things in crushing profoundly destructive ways.

After a morning and afternoon trying to decipher concepts such as Body without Organs, Deterritorializations, Planes of Consistency, Rhizomes (not in the sense you might think), and assemblages my focus is finished. At best I can tolerate listening to another 20 minutes of Caroline reading more from In Search of Lost Time by Marcel Proust on the way home, the first 20 minutes is read on the way to her office. After that, I struggle to convince myself to make dinner and then we head out for the last one-mile walk around our neighborhood. The final two hours of these evenings are open to mindlessness but certainly never television.

Between chatting here at the coffee shop where I’m also trying to write this morning I’ve already spent 3 hours of my time and haven’t cracked open my book yet; as a matter of fact, that’s certainly not going to happen before lunch. Also, I need to consider if anything special needs tending to with regards to our visit to the Grand Canyon starting tomorrow. That’s about it for now.

Family Time – Day 0

Desert Plant

Things unfolded quickly when nearly at the last minute my daughter was able to clear some things over in San Diego and head over to Phoenix to join us for our unorthodox version of Christmas. In light of not having a tree, I plucked these leaves from a nearby desert plant but couldn’t find lights or ornaments that were small enough to decorate them so this will have to do, plus it minimizes what gifts will fit underneath it. Not that gifts matter as there’ll be none of that exchange thing happening here.

By the way, if you are looking for some heartwarming story about family traditions, you should heed this warning and leave right now because this is not one of those. While over the course of these three and a half days, Caroline, Jessica, and I will have a most amazing journey into a surreal escape from everything that typically signifies this time of year, for a reader tomorrow’s entry could touch on things uncomfortable, disturbing even. Seriously, ignore these posts and come back after the 26th.

As of this evening, you are still safe to continue reading as what lies ahead is mundane. After the obligatory greetings, hugs, and small talk I got into the kitchen bringing Jessica along with me to show her how I prepare Sundubu Jjigae a.k.a., kimchi-and-tofu stew. Come to think about it, this Korean dish is red and white just like Santa Claus making this quite the festive, even celebratory, pre-Christmas dinner.

Just before dinner, we three decided that it might be interesting to see a movie this evening. It turns out that my daughter hasn’t been in a theater since before the pandemic, so since dinner comes first and then Caroline and I need to get some more walking in, we buy tickets for a 9:30 showing and head into our neighborhood.

Not only are we getting in those much-needed steps but also taking a route that showcases the skills of neighbors who made the extra effort with their Christmas decoration prowess. First up was a tree standing at least 30 feet tall and strung full of lights. We had found out the other day that a $400-a-day cherry picker was rented for this Herculean task. Further down the street was the most interesting blow-up yard decoration we enjoy, arriving in the form of a Santa opening the door to the outhouse from the inside and waving at us. Yep, even Mr. Claus has to take a leak between commanding all those reindeer from chimney to chimney.

With 9:15 approaching we were ready to trundle off to the movies because the showing of The Matrix Resurrections would be starting soon. In addition to actively avoiding Christmas music, we are also trying to keep clear of the 20 minutes of ads and trailers before the movie starts, one of the joys of reserved seating!

How was the new Matrix? Like so many movies these days, you have to bury 15 minutes of messaging into two hours of car chases, explosions, gunfights, humans flying, narrow escapes, and other action escapades that will satisfy the game players while the few real nerds who come for something bigger than that have to wait for deeper things. In this iteration of the franchise, we are challenged with the idea that we cannot differentiate between reality and entertainment because we are blind and deaf to our own enslavement to the endorphins we need to have pumped into our vacuous meaninglessness. But, should we choose by some freakish chance not to merely exist behind the facade of perceived reality, we will be confronted with the uncertainty of knowing who we are. Finally, if we’ve learned to love ourselves through the encouragement of others who help convince us that we are worth loving, we might come to understand that we have an abundance of love to give to others which will propel them too into being the greatest person they are capable of. So, wherein the previous iterations of the Matrix our hero Neo was becoming “The One,” this episode sees the woman he loves finding her full potential and together the two become The One…

…but the trick of perspective is a joke played on the audience. Trinity and Neo confront the Analyst in his San Francisco home claiming victory which offers the viewer the idea that love has conquered all and evil was put in its place, they thank the Analyst for giving them another “shot” and they fly off into the sunset, the standard well-worn trope of American romantic cinema. What may not be explicitly understood by the audience is that these characters are “in” the Matrix as their game-playing identities and are not dealing with code in reality or working to dismantle the alien possessor. After we saw the film we learned that there was an end credits scene where the game marketing people are still talking about how to bring the Matrix back talking about a concept featuring felines for a parody called “The Catrix” Those who’ve seen this thought the clip was an insult as it didn’t feature allusions to future episodes or supply hope for the next installment. What they missed is the idea that they themselves got caught up with the idea that these two game characters have “won” something and are freed of their shackles of living in a simulation but are in fact, still existing in a simulation except now they are digital heroes that the viewer can believe were real in the first place.

To be explicit, yes I liked the movie while the cinematic fireworks were absolutely unnecessary for this viewer. It was 12:30 before we left the theater and it was 2:00 in the morning before we fell to sleep. No matter, as we can depart for New Mexico in the morning whenever we want to. Tomorrow things will start to be imbued with the surrealism I mentioned above. Again, as I don’t know how explicit I might go with the reasons things skidded into absurdity, just don’t read the next few days of entries though you are certainly invited to enjoy the amazing photos that will be shared.