DEUS EX MACHINA

Yeah, don't feel bad. I had to look it up too.  

   Deus ex machina (/ˌdeɪəs ɛks ˈmækɪnə, ˈmɑːk-/ DAY-əs ex-MA(H)K-in-ə,^[Latin: [ˈdɛ.ʊs ɛks ˈmaːkʰɪnaː]; plural: dei ex machina; English "god out of the machine") is a plot device whereby a seemingly unsolvable problem in a story is suddenly and abruptly resolved by an unexpected and unlikely occurrence. Its function is generally to resolve an otherwise irresolvable plot situation, to surprise the audience, to bring the tale to a happy ending, or act as a comedic device.

   All I know is the term popped into my .....OH Shit! I forgot the oatmeal boiling on the stove. Phew. Caught it before it turned to glue.  As I was saying the term popped into my head this morning as I went out to start the truck. The door dinged. The radio came on and when I  turned the key it went "click." Battery? It had started on colder mornings. Hummmm..... And this is why the Latin. I'm bad with machines. God is definitely "out" of my machines. Just last week I had to peel the old man's bequeathed rubber hunting seat from the back of my dryer. And when I say peeled I mean I  worked for 15 minutes with a putty knife and razor blade. The grey 1980's petroleum product is still stuck like acne in my dyer's tumbler guts. Now it seems not to want to dry. You poisoned me it cries out in anguish as my Carhart overall straps spin in the cool, rhythmic air. Clickey-clack.

   Yesterday was the last day of muzzleloader season phase one. Savage and I hunted Bird's. The plan was to go in about 2:00 pm and have Bird put on a drive when he got home from work at 4:00 pm. Savage could see deer feeding out in a field when he got in the two man stand. One was a shooter buck. I had three does (a momma and two babies) come in fast from behind me. The little ones presented shots. When I turned to my right the bigger doe caught me and bolted. Classic mistake. I should have frozen and let them pass then shot mommy. Bird put the same three past me with his drive. Again no shot. This three have slipped by all our guns. Savage saw deer, but like me had no opportunities for a shot. Bird was still holding out for another buck.

    At dark we three rode out of the woods in style on Savage's ATV. Now we break for about a week, lick our wounds, compartmentalize our mistakes and disappointments since November. Oh yeah, and it's Christmas. Now that the truck is in the shop (starter not battery) my holiday will be celebrated with Cheeky and feeding the wood stove. Ho-ho-ho. Single digits are predicted. It promises to be festive.

     I still haven't found that blue knife or resolved how the mouse got in the toilet with the lid closed, which led to the running toilet and caused my well to go dry. Mysteries continue unresolved. No surprise ending. As long as the snowmobile lobby and those who ride their fossil fuel guzzling, scare every bird or furry critter within a 100 miles to death, knuckle-headed, go-fast in the silent cold, very loud, human stupidity machines don't buy off the governor we'll all start hunting deer again on Dec. 26th. 

     Just to keep things in perspective and not make you think I'm bitching, all these mysteries and annoyances fall by the wayside compared to the love I feel for my family, friends and community this holiday season; as well as the gratitude I have for whatever higher power led me to that lost, dead, doe I shot lying in the snow. In the meantime there's a reason I don't have a cell phone, heat by wood and have a lot of kerosene lamps. I'm no good with machines. God is not with me there. Happiest of HOLIDAYS!