Half Cleveland Dad

My Favorite Thing

Are you getting tired of the video?  Dude, check this out anyway:

 

 

I was at the kitchen sink while Sweet Potato was having breakfast, and saw her digging Coltrane like this.  The video only catches the last few seconds.  Once she asked me why Monk doesn’t have any words, and I answered that he’s talking with his music.  It seemed to make sense to her, and now she’ll often comment that a guy’s tokken widt his myoo-zik!  Some people just know how to hear what’s being said.

YouTube is blocking this video in Germany.  I know they're in the information harvesting business, but I’m still impressed that the technology can recognize the copyrightable content of the audio, just in the uploading process.  Why Germany?  In the US, I'll take my fair use chances.

Fog, Reality, Death, Swinging

A thaw after a chilly week made for a foggy couple of days.  Sweet Potato and I went out to see what there was to see.

I think Sweet Potato's anxious expression over the dead possum had more to do with her earlier observation, daht possum has reao shahp teet-th; izzy gohn-eenta bite us?, than a soul-opening encounter with the concept of mortality, although, walking back to the car, she first said, I'm dead ... and you're dead, too.

A neighbor once surprised a possum in his yard, and it flopped over in simulated death -- it played possum.  So at first I thought this possum might only have shorted out.  But it was too cold.

The day before this, Sweet Potato bent over a flower pot in front of our house.  Look!  Lookaddat!  It was her small beanbag bear.  It's Beah!  She felt bad that he'd been outside for many days.  He'd been buried in a snowdrift, and was grimy with the thaw.  I said I'd wash him.  Noooo!  I wandta seep widt him in my bed! 

Winter morning commute

This is the interesting part of my morning commute.

It's great here in the snow.  Grimy, stark motion below; above, an ambient, soft, winter grey.

One morning a storm was clearing, moving north.  On the right, an intense winter sun poured horizontal light through a small cataract of blue sky, but to my left, it was still swirling night.  Ahead, the city was sharp and bright against the black sky, and over the lake gulls glinted like tumbling gold.