Today is Heather's birthday. She is in Mendocino. I am here.

I spent the day in a succession of fire fights. I did load the trailer with the balance of load three, including the pile of wood that is so ugly sitting just out the back door, and I took it to the dump.

Maddy kept me company as I worked. She sat in the car and chatted at me.

I pulled the car from the hideous rock pile, Mount Gibson, to the hideous wood pile and started loading.

I am easily overwhelmed by this sort of work. There is no mystery or mental challenge to loading wood onto a trailer.

I do try to create a challenge, telling myself that it is important how the wood is piled, it is important that all pieces of rubbish are properly loaded, and if they are not, then some undefined 'bad' will occur.

That is why I hate loading garbage cans with yard waste and construction debris. I am afraid of the moral approbation of the trash haulers. If I load too much in a can, or my sticks stick out too far, or maybe there is a nail sticking out... These things will get me hated by the gods of trash.

The trailer offers me relief from that worry. No, the trailer offers no relief, I am still fenced in by my perceptions, by my comfort zone, but now I have an eight to ten foot limit on the lengths of logs and lumber that can be thrown out, now I have a couple of thousand pounds that I can load at one whack.

So my limits still exist, but there is an extreme quantitative extension in my resources.

While I worked I had the thought that perhaps, maybe, I am getting better at handling all that a property of this sort requires. No 'maybes' about it. I am much more competent to handle the reality in which I have found myself living.

At the same time, the complexity curve of this property has been descending. The peak in chaos was during the construction. My ability to handle that level of work and complexity was totally overwhelmed by reality (as would have been that of _anyone_. The project took the full time labor of one to three carpenters, plus specialized crews at different points for over five months.).

Our trailer is about 4.5 feet x 9 feet, and we load it about 4 feet hight. That is about six cubic yards of stuff.

I used to feel pretty good if I was able to move two or three, or maybe four or five, wheelbarrow loads of something from one side of the property to another. Cleaning Snip's stall was about five wheelbarrow loads. That is what, a third of a cubic yard?

Now I whisk six yards of stuff at a whack to the dump.

Popular novel: the diary of (?) whatever her name is. It's gimmick is a running status measured in pounds of weight and cigarrettes smoked, and shacks received. I can do the same now with loads for the dump and lines of text or code written.

Saturday March 11, 2000
Loads taken to dump, 1 (excellent), rock loaded into trailer: a lot (great!) Mountain of debris decreased in size by at least one seventh (best progress in almost three years! Excellent) Lines of code written for pay (or, today, for free) zero (poor, but I will do better, really!), number of times spencer fell off of the counter by the toaster oven: two (bad genetics I guess). Number of smoke detector batteries changed: 7 (a personal best), other household errands: put hook on molly's door to save her from maurading siblings, installed brackets on shelf over cloths rack so that it doesn't jump off it's non-moorings and slam into my head. Number of ladders that fell over on top of spencer: 1. Number of times I stepped on Spencer's head while descending a ladder after changing a smoke detector battery: 1 (need to do better on this one).

So I am getting better at the work. I kept telling myself that each branch that I loaded was a branch that I would never again need to load onto the trailer.

Some of the branches were too long, even with the trailer, so I went for the chainsaw. The chain was pretty loose. I thought about that, but figured what the hell and started it right up, revved it once, and the chain flew off.

I put down the saw, wondering where I might have the chainsaw tool. This is a special handy tool that has a wrench and a screw driver on it. The only tool you need for Happy Chainsawing!

Maddy stuck her head out of the window, holding something up. "Do you need this?" She had the chainsaw tool, and she knew it was what I needed.

Wow! Maybe we are training an emphathetic kid.

Elizabeth and Molly went on a massive horseback ride. They went to the arena, and then on their private trail to another arena, and god knows where all. I am less spazzed by these rides now that Molly has her 'talkabout' radios. These are great! Whenever I get nervous I can call her and allay my concerns.

Today they found a horse that was caught in its' fence. The owner didn't hear their knock the first few times, but finally did, and was excessivly gratefull to be told.

They took Sunny and Jazz. Sunny performed great for them. The last epic ride they took was on Snip and Jazz. This last week we had a scare with Snip. It may just be a bad tooth, but he wasn't eating, and he was laying down a lot, and Heather and I were pretty much sure that was it for the poor guy.

Molly sat with him out in the paddock for a long time. The vet said that perhaps his epic riding days were over. After the last ride, Snip was sweating up a storm, while Jazz was almost totally dry.

We had a great lunch. Molly and Elizabeth made Grilled Cheese Sandwiches when they returned. We all ate out in the yard. Molly and Lizard sat up on the swing set platform, while the little guys and I sat on the grass.

I read more of Ian Frazier's _On the Rez_. Obviously I was forced to tears by the story of SuAnn Big Crow. Doing the Shawl Dance at the Lead, South Dakota, auditorium, winning the state championship, being killed on her way to an awards ceremony.

There is an audience for narratives that combine the personal with the historical, and with social commentary. There is an audience, and I want to reach that audience.

That is partially true. Reaching an audience is good, but really I want to continue to make these 'things.' I want to go on trips, and try to capture the humor and pathos and bathos and then put it into words and take pictures and go inward into the place where sunrise photo walks live. The place that finds meaning in rocks arrayed on the shore just so, that sees a tidal channel through the sand and rocks as a metaphor for the ceaseless struggles of existence.

You know..._That_ place.

And so I am going to continue to do this, and to make Journals Online a place that supports my attempts to publish my creations, and that supports my efforts to make the 'form' a better and stronger and more rich creation.

Later, I read for a while more, then went to the dump. I took Spencer, and left Maddy sleeping on the couch while Molly and Elizabeth played in the yard. They were under orders to check on her, and they apparantly did.

I am thinking of a trip to Southern South Dakota. I'd like to consider the reality of Mt. Rushmore and the Crazy Horse Memorial, and the Custer Battlefield, and the Praire House site, and the Badlands, and the Pine Ridge reservation and Wounded Knee and the SuAnn Big Crow Center.

I would like to do this in May or June, and I would like John and Beverley to come, and for us to go up in two cars, take the Van and the Explorer, and go exploring.