One gets Blest, but never feels Blessed ... still

I really don't do well enough for accolades, nor award nominations, I am still just hanging out or hanging on. But I do like being me too much to be someone else. So, name six things I am extremely grateful for (knowing that if the government finds out they will try to take them away?)

1. God
2. Family
3. Love
4. Friends (all two of them that didn't go shooting with me - today)
5. Good people everywhere - many more than bad people anywhere
6. Earth - Man's personal Garden of Eden (don't mess it up, folks)

The second award is named the Lemonade Award. Hmmm, maybe when life hands you lemons, you learn to make lemonade or lemon pie. It's just a matter of perspective. I do know this, no matter how large we feel our problems are, there is someone somewhere who has it so much harder. The world doesn't end when we are given a problem to overcome. No, life goes on...



The Lemonade Award tells me to pass it on to 10 other bloggers that show attitude and/or gratitude.

Ah, I lifted the above picture and text from Little Drops since she tagged me; and I thought I was picked for my sour disposition - and I don't add sugar to much in my life after reading Sugar Blues. But some folks read between the lines, peek behind the curtain, or expect more from me than I could ever deliver - in spite of the History of Earl.

I can pick ten with attitude and/or gratitude, my daily visits are there for a reason - they have both:

SailorCurt
Jeffro
Brigid
BBWolf
Ambulance Driver
Wyatt Earp
Sensible
Marianne
Old NFO
Bullet slinging Bookmarm... Breda

not that I would ever tell them they have been tagged or selected, but those that never visit my blog have ways of knowing who has linked and when and where. They all deserve these two awards and would, if they weren't doing such incredible creative stuff, play along.

My vision is shorter than the depth of the view...

Holiday time and the world isn't as it should be, mankind looking at the ground instead of the heavens, missing the wonders. Personally, Home Depot and my wife's displeasure are upsetting my harmony with the Universe - and she won't allow me to blow the whole thing up. Nice lady is my wife. That is the woman not telling my mother the truth about her terminal cancer (which she doesn't have, but my aunt told my mother it was so - so it is). There are real sad things out there, tragic and at the same time wonderful events in the near and more distant future. Sure enough one of my brothers-in-law told me off in an email - as I rippled his harmony in his Universe (I refuse to live in his, although if he were within a thousand miles I could get to him on the Trusty Triumph and beat him up). Well, it wouldn't be worthy of my real skill and fading powerful muscles and deadly techniques - and why would I want my sister to think badly of me? There are enough problems with Earl that she doesn't need to remember the terrible fellow I was, and could become again. At church I was charmed by three beautiful young women that weren't paying any attention to me, when they smile the world is brighter - come to think of it those little children's smiles and laughter were a wonder, too. I was told I was really sounding good in the choir today, I think I said thank you - they have no idea how little I know what I should sound like, when and where, only when the director cuts me off am I on cue. As the Pastor gave the sermon on Advent, John and the future now long past I started working on a Christmas story, or my Christmas story for this year and season. Being that I told my lonely mother that she should write one for this year and of her being all alone this Christmas, another dear friend of hers died yesterday. As I get older I do notice the passing of those that were always around. Some so young and some so old and all of them loved, not enough to keep inside one's heart but wrapped around oneself like a soft warm blanket of goodness.

What I almost missed by being a loner...

You know that men understand women not at all - because they are men, and women shake their heads when men do things they can't comprehend (although the women will be sure they do Understand men - but that men are just fools or fallible). My point, quickly, is that we understand ourselves and our environment better than someone that doesn't live it with us. Trust me on this, Eskimos, Mongolian herdsmen and camel riding Bedouins live well where they are much better than I ever will be able to - in their environment and culture.

So in my studies and my storytelling, I have been bumping along on the American Revolution, Militia, Minutemen, and the Second Amendment to the Constitution. And for various reasons, me being a loner mostly, I kept concentrating on the People keeping and bearing arms - without the infringement from government. LEAVE ME ALONE! should be painted on my t-shirts, but I don't like too many printed shirts, plain dark somber colors. Okay, so far, that seems to be an important point from the Heller case - it does belong to the People (by only one vote). But you shouldn't trust the government to get it right, any more than you should trust a man or a woman to really understand the other gender. I don't trust the government goodness (and I do believe in fairy tales) when they spend so much time dividing the population into groups with different rules and privileges - I know why they do it and it never is the reason that they tell us, but back to what I almost missed.

Living in this high tech age, where Farmer Frank can plant, weed and harvest bushels of corn and beans that in the long ago past (1890's ?) would have taken long strings of horses and hundreds of men to produce on more acres (look at the pictures). So we don't really understand the old German farm houses, with the animals on the ground floor, the family on the second floor and the workers living in the tiny rooms on the third and fourth floors. We have trouble understanding community - we don't live in communities we just call where we live "a bedroom community" I watched my wife get up and leave for the day in Korea, to help the community replant the rice shoots (they have machines for it now) but everyone went out and helped replant the rice from the village, they would all go out and help harvest (they do have machines now - which is why they have so many people making cars for resale in America). Anyway, those are just two examples of community activities that everyone participating in for the benefit of the community. About the only community activity I see now, is sandbagging against floods - and we are being encouraged to stop that and run away by our government. Mandatory evacuation orders. I must be wandering again.

Back to my point, when you live as a community you also protect yourself as a community, establish good manners, laws and priorities -- and the community expects cooperation and responsibility from its adult members. You will talk, you will vote, you will abide or you will have to walk away an outcast, an outlaw (those are real important historical terms of condition). The MILITIA is the community's military power -- we don't have that any longer, governments don't want independent militia, an armed and organized bunch of citizens. The militia of the 1770's through the early years of America was the men of the community - not the state and never the Federal government. If we had communities today, not ones that just sleep together, the militia would be all the adult men and women of the community, armed and trained to protect the community. From sandbagging, fire fighting and catching crooks and perverts - it would be the community militia, but mostly the Community that would protect itself.

I now read that first part of the Second Amendment as what the Founding Fathers lived within, communities where the people formed their militia (not the government's nor King's military but the People's). Until you build communities again, it won't come back -- there are some places in America that aren't just bedroom communities: but they aren't on the news, on the Interstate or bothered much by Washington, DC. But then once upon a time Americans lived in communities not in enclaves (computer caves?) preparing to become part of the Matrix.

What are dreams made of?

It has been a rough day; too much anxiety and restless feeble fears, the work was huge, the pace meaningful and most is done. I was caught by The Aboves in my lapses, the fax machine didn't connect even once, the telephone kept getting busy signals and the internet alone made me linked. So I close shop and head for home, thinking of girl friends - isn't that what men are always supposed to be thinking about? If they only knew the truth...

Roads were dry, I could have been going home on the motorcycle, but didn't take it to work today. I talked with another motorcyclist, has had his for two years and now has a thousand miles on it, since he only rides in the Sun, and you don't want to know how infrequently that happens up here. I have a long ride on Saturday, no girl friends there, going around Mount Rainier, poker run and barbeque. I drive to my home, and open the garage door and see that I am alone - ever wonder why I would think about girl friends? I don't get dinner tonight, have to fast for the blood work tomorrow, the final check. Still I notice my wife has done wonders and there is a picture I will share.

She has always worked, and even in our ancient aged condition she continues. And some people are blest to have the perfect profession that fits them - Joy in the Job! Meet my wife and her passion. And if you don't know that she is beautiful, you aren't looking at her heart and have missed the best part of my life.

There is only one... of me and watch how you step

I was about to do something bad, but got distracted and wrote some replies and that has me on a roll in a different direction... it wasn't evil, just bad, which in degree is almost always excusable, or so I would tell myself if I were caught. Since I haven't done anything bad this morning it must be going to be a beautiful day. Anyway, back to the thought in the title.

There is only one of me, and I am, by law, a taxpayer - so why are there so many layers of government taxing me? What have I done to deserve so much painful attention and extraction? Is it that I was born, that I work, that I invest, that I can smile and think about pretty young women? Is it that I as an individual don't get to decide, my one vote among millions just doesn't count. If I were a Senator in Washington DC I would only have ninety-nine others that would water down my choice, in Congress a few hundred others. If I were a state I would be one of fifty. They (THE POWERS THAT BE) seem to have designed the entire system so I feel I have choice and opportunity to vote - but the reality is that my vote doesn't count, in Washington they keep counting until King County gets a number that picks the proper Governess, and in Florida and Ohio the courts get to decide what a proper vote is until the correct President is selected, or something like that. If I sat out the election it would upset them (THE POWERS THAT BE) only if large bunches of me's would, since I am only one taxpayer and voter, it doesn't bother them at all. All the former Felons can't vote and there are several million of them - wow, several million disenfranchised people? Nah, there can't be that many, can there? Well, back to the important ONE, me, the taxpayer the individual person serving so many Masters.

Federal Government, State Government, County Government (City Government too if you live in the proper locations) - why do they feel the need to suck from my little pile of plunder? I work hard for that, and I do understand that my taxes, with all the blood sucked from other taxpayers build schools, roads, defend my home and country, promote greatness and periodic goodness and in general I am all for that. Here in the Great Northwest, there was a Kingdome and it was home to two professional teams, one baseball and one football - they used the dome for other stuff as well. But the teams, which make lots of money in their seasons, decided they needed new, better places to play, and wanted some of my pile of plunder to pay for it. They could have taken my ticket money and used it, but they decided that the taxpayer needed to make Seattle a first class sports city. The taxpayers voted NO - and they (The Local POWERS THAT BE) went around and over that vote and assumed the bonds and built the wonders and the teams play on. Now why would I want my grandchildren to pay for the lost Kingdome, the current venues and such? I am the fellow that is working to pay off my current debts so no one has to assume them if I crash on my motorcycle - I have insurance coverage to pay every debt I currently have off if I die - but they (THE POWERS THAT BE) are counting on more little taxpayers to pay off their excesses, sigh. What happens when we stop producing more little tax payers?

Ah, well, it isn't really important, I am only one - that is why the system is designed like this, and if I really wanted to I could become one of THE POWERS THAT BE, and live on top of the pile. But then I like myself a bit more where I worked to be a better person, a gentle man, and only the LAW makes me a taxpayer, a voter, a citizen. How much do I count the LAW? not too much : I am me because of my parents and grandparents, friends, relations, lovers, and mostly I am because of the Great I AM, and never because of THE POWERS THAT BE. There is only one of me.

Boy's Night In...

Ah, my wife is gone, off to middle of the week church, so what am I to do with the time -- I read a blog from Iraq about boredom, leave a promising comment but I don't want to suffer that. So I take the motorcycle out for a spin to see if any gun shops stay open after six, or is it only Big Kmart and Walleyed World if one wants to be seen on camera buying a gun... I have enough guns, but why do they close so early? The ride is nice, I will go to work on the motorcycle tomorrow, smiling.

Back home I drag out the pistols and stuff, I wanted a shoulder holster, and will likely still get one, one day, but I need to check what I have for utility. NRA sent me a 5.11 vest that can be used for concealed carry - with an embroidered NRA on it (I hate wearing advertising) but the stuff has a velcro holster that fits my short pistol well and only I and everyone that is really looking would know I was armed. I also have an inside the pants with belt clip that works and I try it out - better lose those fifteen pounds to make it fit best. I am happier about my preparedness for wearing a pistol concealed - heavy dark trench coat and wide brimmed hat and shadows in my future life as the anti-super hero. Okay, just kidding.

I start cleaning pistols and love the oil and the clean and the functioning after reassembly - where can I shoot this late at night? No where around here for the now and the darkness. The weekend is only a couple days away and I have miles to go and promises to keep.

Holiday Blues in Limbo...

There is a Ceramic Green Christmas Tree in the Library, it is quiet, one of the only programs open, since much of the staff has departed for the holiday celebration nearer to home. I have been in similar places, far from home and warm Season's Greetings. In the forgotten areas of warfare, in the prisons, on exercises in the deserts and the snows or lush jungles, in a bunker or a guard tower - the Limbo of waiting for the magic moment to pass by, that piece of time when parents once loved you, grandmothers fussed over you and fed you the best cookies, when your siblings and cousins gathered to test the sleds on the snows and throw snow balls and make snowmen, that magic isn't here but it is inside everyone's tormented soul as we wait for the time it should have rung in JOY! to pass. We go on living and waiting for the return to normal, knowing that our family can't call, email, or even visit where we wait... for the minutes stretch and the sleep doesn't come and there is no peace in Limbo. We hope you have it, Peace on Earth, where we came from and hope to return one day.