But What If She Says "No"?

Maybe it is my recovering body inserting too many endorphins into my blood? Maybe I'm reading too many of your blogs.? I'm not sure what is up, but I do know that my real life is calling me. Maybe it has just been quiet enough lately that I was able to hear? Maybe I can keep writing sentences that start with "maybe"?

I'm edgy and unsettled. I'm not like that. I keep closing my eyes and seeing visions of long, quiet days at home tilling the ground. I see myself sitting under the big maple tree at 1:17 P.M. on a Wednesday and reading a book. I see myself chasing chickens around the yard. I see myself riding my bike everywhere. I see blisters on my hands from too much hoeing. I see myself hunkered over a sheet of figures trying to piece together a plan to never pay taxes again. I see lists of foods I can grow, how much I'll need and how I can store them. I see myself using the library much more than I've even imagined. I see myself buying clothes based on how long they'll last rather than how good I'll look when I wear them. I see the solar panels in the back yard. I see myself buying a couple more acres in the back yard. I see dairy goats playing with each other in a pen. I see my wife with dirt on her nose as she walks back from the berry patch. I see the look on my face as I sit in the remains of the first deer I butchered. I see the word processing document with two columns: "Why I Should Keep Working" and "Why I Should Stop Working". I see myself sizing everything up regarding how much it will cost me rather than how much pleasure it will bring me. I see myself losing track of what day it is. I see myself happy to get up in the morning. I see the look on the faces of everyone I know when I tell them I'm dropping out. I see myself beginning to understand what it means to be free. I see myself knowing that my eyes are beginning to open.

I'm not sure what the hell is going on, but it frightens me.

A Sack For My Nuts (or Why Peak Oil Is Bad For Your Scrotum)

Like many of you (no, not "many of you" in the sense that there are many of your reading this blog. "Many of you" in the sense of "many of you in the world") I spend a generous portion of my internet time reading sites with a "there may be trouble up ahead" flavor to them.

Editors note: I apologize for abusing the quotation mark only two sentences into this note. I tend to abuse parenthesis, ellipsis and quotation marks.

Much of the talk on these sites revolves around a potential future in which our current quality of life will be altered to varying degrees. Some portend of changes so drastic that the basic training list for prepartation includes "Mad Max". Others see changes that are less drastic, yet still profound (fuel prices out of reach of the poor, food rationing, etc.). Regardless of what the future holds for us, the thing that bothers me most is the fact that no one has written about the effect of this uncertain future on my scrotum. Yes, I know, I find it strange as well. The vacuum on this vital subject has forced my hand. I really can't allow it to go unaddressed any longer.

A couple days ago I went in for my second operation to remove a cyst from my sack. The growth itself is benign, but its effects are malignant. Imagine, gentlemen, somone inserting a swedish meatball in your pouch to keep the twins company. Sure, just like a real swedish meatball, it is interesting for all of ten minutes. After that, it is downright annoying. You can't walk properly, you can't lay down, you can sit, you can't do yoga, you can't walk around naked with your swim cap showing. All downside, no upside.

The first operation was successful, but I was warned that there was a good possibility it would recur. I find it interesting that we seem to know so much about how our pre-historic ancestors lived, what a dinosaur cared about, how to navigate craft into deep space and even how the U.S. economy works, but we don't know why a person grows a cyst or how to stop it. But, we do know how to remove it. I liked it so much the first time, I went back for seconds. I know, I'm a typical, greedy American.

Sitting down had become difficult enough, but after the operation, everything seemed to swell to super-hero proportions. What was once a light peach color was now a dark purple color. What was once smooth was now puffy. What once fit into my jeans now needed to purchase a separate seat when it travel by air. I think you'll all be happy to note that I've resisted the temptation to use the Vicodin (tm) they prescribed. I'm sure it is swell (no pun intended), but my personality is one that would quickly grow fond of such a thing. So, I sit and wait for things to settle down on their own.

This morning I awoke to find the old boy still looking a bit puffy. I clawed my way out of bed without asking my wife to give me a push (I'm just macho that way) and walked to the freezer like a cowpoke at the end of the Chisholm Trail. I needed two cool packs or ice bags to adequately cover my real estate (no, I'm not bragging and there is certainly not that kind of acreage down there, it is just a logistic thing) so I began to process the soothing solids when a thought came to me: When all this Peak Oil/Global Warming/Housing Bubble/Water Shortage/Population Explosion/Terrorist Induced/End Times horror comes down the pike, what will I do to benefit my burning balls? I mean, this is likely to happen again, so what will one do? I make ice with electricity. I use plastic bags made from petroleum. I drive to the hospital 15 miles away in a car that uses gas. I guess I could go stand in the creek a half mile from my house, but then I'd have to be sure to time the operation for the summer. I'd have to wrap my package in a... a... package so as to prevent infection. And I swear, I didn't write this in response to the recent entry in "The Archdruid Report" on public health decline in these challenging times, although it is a nice piece.

Seriously, what will I do in the future when I require procedures such as this? Will ice be a luxury? Will plastic bags be illegal? Will I have to buy blue-gel cool packs in back alleys?

Or, let's take a different approach: Would I have had these blue gel cool packs in my freezer if I were a person who lived a sustainable life? Now, let me be very, very clear here: I am a person who wants to live a sustainable life. My wife and I are really trying to keep the footprint smaller than it has been. I've driven the same four-cylinder car for over 13 years (238,000 miles and climbing). We even had our home evaluated for solar panels (we decided to go with new windows: cheaper and saved a LOT of energy). I'm plotting out how I can ride my bike to work next year (it is a long trip, but might be worth it). Sure, these are all typical, white, middle-class things to do when you are guilty about global warming, but I am really trying in my pathetic way.

As I reached for one (of many) of those blue gel cool packs I have stacked in one of my two freezers, the full force of my lifestyle hit me. I had the luxury of using one of those packs and then putting it back into the freezer in exchange for one of its colder compatriots. This is my lifestyle. No, I wasn't guilty. But I was very, very grateful. By Tuesday or Wednesday, I'll be healed up enough to drive to the doctor and let him have a look. The purple will be giving way to red, which will give way to pink, which will give way to peach. At that point, all of this will one of many repressed memories stockpiled in my psyche like so many dehydrated potatoes and firearms in a Montana bunker.

When the "event" we anticipate occurs, how will this affect my scrotum? Sure, those blue-gel cooling packs will last another year or two, but what will be done after that? Will I be able to (or should I even) buy plastic bags for my bag? Will there be enough affordable energy for me to make ice cubes for my cubes? Will I be able to drive to the hospital? Will I have a job or healthcare? Should I buy larger undies and just live with the extra chap in the sack? Should I just learn to whistle the "Three's Company" theme while dressing in the morning? Should I just stop being so civilized and soft and just learn to live what nature provides? Does using technology make me a bad person? Does anyone really eat and enjoy Vegemite(tm)?

Ultimately, these choices will be made for me and the questions they spawn will be answered. I can't see into the future and I can't stop it. It is easy to talk of victory gardens, bicycling, rain barrels and community support. It is all well and good to go on about hybrids, localization, energy policy and sustainability. But when it comes to a guy's bag, we have to be realistic.