Sine Die

Posted: January 26, 2017 in Uncategorized

On hiatus. Old news, in order to tidy up the landing page.

I may pick this up again. For now, off topic essays have been/will be incorporated into my main blog, Rodney’s Saga.

Poll Results

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

The Joy Of Paying Bills

Posted: December 5, 2015 in Uncategorized

So there I was, standing at the counter of the post office making mouth noises to the clerk. I made disparaging comments about sending out bills. Harmless enough. Everyone hates doing the bills, right?

She pointed out, very kindly, that I was fortunate to have money to send off. Furthermore, I was fortunate to have the things that needed paying for: home, heat, clean water, electricity, and so on.

To this day, I think of her comments every time I pay bills.


Year of the Horse stamp, USPS

Along the same lines: How to Be Thankful For Your Life by Changing Just One Word. Thanks to ZooLN for posting this link.

BBG pink flower March 19 15

Birmingham Botanical Gardens

Geographical Center: Tennessee

Posted: February 23, 2015 in Uncategorized


Closeup of sign

Closeup of sign

Monument area

Monument area

Old Lascassas Highway, ~half-mile north of the campus of Middle Tennessee State University, according to Murfreesboro, Tennessee: Obelisk – Geographic Center of Tennessee. More info: Historical Marker Database: Geographic Center of Tennessee.

Murfreesboro, TN
October 30, 2014

LEGO for Lent

Posted: February 18, 2015 in Uncategorized

Remember that thou art stardust, and to stardust shalt thou return.
A personal modification of the Imposition of Ashes. [Lenten Thoughts]

My Lenten discipline this year will be to sort my LEGO bricks.

Say what?

First of all, I have bought into the theory that one should not use Lent for giving up bad habits: quitting smoking or eating less chocolate. You should be doing those things anyway.

Neither should one’s Lenten practice be self-serving:

On the other hand we do want, and want very much, to make men treat Christianity as a means; preferably, of course, as a means to their own advancement, but, failing that, as a means to anything—even to social justice … For the Enemy will not be used as a convenience. Men or nations who think they can revive the Faith in order to make a good society might just as well think they can use the stairs of Heaven as a short cut to the nearest chemist’s shop.
The Screwtape Letters, XXIII
by C.S. Lewis (originally published Bles 1942, online, 2015)

A Lenten discipline should be an activity that impacts your life, that disrupts your routine, that causes you to pause and reflect. It should require effort. It doesn’t have to be unpleasant. Music, mediation, sand mandalas aren’t. OTOH, a little bit of non-pleasantness contributes to one’s moral fiber. By this logic, anything can be a spiritual discipline if done mindfully.

Enter my LEGO collection.

Many adult fans had a dark age. The period of time between building as a kid and returning as an adult. In my case, my dark age started when began riding horses [Lessons From BrickFair] and lasted for 35 years. When I emerged from my dark age, I did so with a vengeance.

As a result, I have a lot of bricks. Hordes. Multitudes. It will not be fun to sort them all. Sorting will include gathering sets that have wandered to far corners of the house, washing builds that have gotten dusty, and sanitizing flea market purchases. Just as painters would rather paint than prime canvas or quilters would rather sew than wash and iron material, I would rather be putting bricks together than stowing them in drawers.

Furthermore, many of those wandering sets, dusty builds, and flea-market purchases have become nuclei for attracting more junk, creating corners of the house that look as if we are auditing for Hoarders. Organize my LEGO collection means defeating these piles as well. Tchotchkes will be taken to the thrift store. Artwork will be hung on the walls. Boxes will be stored or tossed.

I will get my house in order.

That’s a reasonable metaphor for Lent.
I thought about staying quiet on the subject:

“And when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites are: for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen of men.”
Matthew 6-5 (partial) King James Version, Biblehub

On the other hand, public accountability may keep me going when my spirit flags around day 25.

Plus, it has been well-established that I will turn anything into a blog post. [Life As a First Draft]

Vulcan & Fireworks, Guest Photo

Posted: February 9, 2015 in Uncategorized
Meg McKinney Photography

Meg McKinney Photography

In the spirit of my Views of Vulcan, only better done.

Photographer’s website: Meg McKinney Photography
Guest post by Meg: California Girl becomes a Southern Belle

Eventually he would be known as Tiktaalik roseae, a ‘fishapod’. We will call him Albert.

In a shallow lake in what would become Canada, Albert swam back and forth in the shallows, giving the fisheye to the scattering of bugs just out of reach on the shore.

If you took the time to hang around with the old fish, they talked about days when the fish had to swim deeper and faster to catch food. To Albert it was so much gillwash. His grandfather was always going on about how much better things were in their day: the fish were faster, the food was more abundant, the young fish were more respectful. Albert could repeat the lecture verbatim. Particularly the part about being more respectful.

Fish ate smaller fish that swam in the warm shallows. Occasionally, they would feast on bugs that had been caught in the plants as the land moved down twice a day. The land moved back up, the plants receded, the fish waited. It had been that way all of Albert’s life.

Except that Albert was hungry. Prey fish had been scarce lately. Low land wasn’t due for a few more hours. He wanted to eat now. Even when the land got low enough, he wasn’t sure it would get down far enough to bring this particular small bundle of plants within reach. It was that lovely dark greenish-purple stuff that housed such tasty, meaty bugs. If it did come within reach, any food would be gone in a flash when the whole school found it.

Sure, he had nosed as a younger fish. Everyone did. Friends would dare you to stick your nose up into that curious non-wetness. Albert’s best friend had held stuck his entire head into it for 14 tail-strokes before he collapsed. Albert hadn’t done it in years.

Now he wondered if he could combine nosing with a small fin push and reach plants before they came down. He swam and pondered, pondered and swam.

Suddenly, he revved his tail for several beats, took a big gillful of water and lunged up the land. It was farther than he thought. One fin push. He tried not to panic at the empty feeling in his gills. He drew in, but no comfortable surge of water washed through. A second fin push. He was into the non-wetness with everything but his tail fins. He grabbed a bug and faded back into the water.

Albert swam away with a proud fin-waggle. He’d never heard of a fish doing what he had just done.

Two fin prints glittered in the sand. They would leave no mark after the next high tide. The planet would never be the same.