First day of deer season here...

Of course I am interested, we can't shoot any in the Seattle Parks that have signs posted that there are no guns allowed - so I figure that is where all the bucks with more sense than rut will gather. Unfortunately for them, the rut rules, and Mayor Nickles knows that he was in violation of the Constitution of the United States of America, since he isn't going to be mayor soon, it doesn't matter. The city will pay the lawsuits, but it does show that fools still get elected to important positions and then don't know how to obey the law, doesn't it? Maybe a civilsuit against the fool instead of the office? I would be for that, his pockets aren't that deep but look at the message.

State Wildlife best guesstimate of 120,000 hunters looking for Bambi and close relatives there of, they had better not go to the city parks. I played a wargame, and packed the Caravan to go shooting paper in the pouring precipitation (RAIN!! with Thunderstorms and winds). I enjoyed the expanse of shooting positions, seems that those crowding me out the last few weekends are among those 120,000, go get'm guys and gals! I keep expecting to read about another deer harvested in Idaho, but haven't yet. Anyway, it was fun shooting, although I wasn't shooting like I thought I should be, wanted to blame it on the firearms, but they couldn't defend themselves and so I didn't. When I finished all that I could do, I decided to build my confidence back up and pulled the target rifle out, slung up, and started feeding it one bullet at a time, and shooting, one at a time, break the finger from the trigger, open and eject, cock the hammer, reload, close up and take aim and fire. Called my only flyer, and I was happy - that rifle still loves me and I had a group I could live with and brag about if I were that kind of a fellow.

I do think I am stuck in a different Century sometimes, single shot target rifle with iron sights, and that really works for me. And I don't have to hear about my happy finger, cause every shot is rebuilt from the floor, the sling doesn't move nor the non-firing elbow, but the rest does. well, I have damp rifles to clean, adjust and oil up a bit. Don't you just love the rain? Helps keep the blundering hunter sounds and scents down, but then the deer lay quieter than men, don't they?

Good guys shooting today, lent my binos for them's shooting too far and not knowing where their rounds were going. I talked to a young man (yes, they are all young now) with his new Assault Rifle (an AR with a Thompson Center barrel - sixteen inch) he wanted something he was familiar with - and was cleaning the crud off of it since it wasn't clean when he got it (?) someone was probably playing around before his purchase. He said it was for home defense, I asked why he hadn't purchased a shotgun, and he said that was on his list of to buy, but it would come after his CCW purchase. We went down and talked to another young man (I did say they all were young now) that had been firing his pistol but was now shooting his IMI Galil Assault rifle in 5.56mm. They talked rapidly about what was good and their next purchases (seems building an armory is high on their priorities) I had to laugh and mentioned something about the young being in a hurry. Do keep investing in arms, looks like there are young buyers out there, probably building them in Iraq and Afghanistan daily. Good guys, there was also a young family at the end of the line, all their rifles were the best the Communist could send America, bolt actions and semi-automatics.

Well, I have twelve new CMP chamber flags and one 54" synthetic sling (AWS all weather) by Turner Saddlery with the CMP logo, in brown, will look good with the M1 Garand, in the rain. Will leave the leather on for now. Leather like fine wood has a soul, as opposed to plastic and stamped metals... got to go and get the house ready for the return of my lovely wife. Later

only Thursday? and so much done already...

I uploaded records, linked books and the crew processed and only a little is left for tomorrow. Good crew almost working together can do it all, but they don't really work together, yet. I ride home on the motorcycle, and the day is good and hot, the Sun bright and the Interstate clogged and going so slowly no where. I do know that my better intentions melt away at dinner and after, I watch the grass get watered about all my energy level is good for, watching the sprinkler's slow water dispersion... the grass will grow and I will have to cut it, but that would be my job.

Ever feel the government is out of touch with you? I haven't liked James Carville since he made some stupid remark about dragging a hundred dollar bill through a trailer park, and I lived in one for some of the happiest part of my life, but it seems that he has produced a truth for all to read. I processed it into my prison library today, he does know trash.

40 More Years: How the Democrats Will Rule the Next Generation

Yep, that doesn't sit well with me, but he likes the idea of RULING, and I thought we fixed King George the Third about that concept. Americans aren't ruled, they do get riled. Now before you start thinking I think the Republicans are an answer - I don't. Seems everyone in Washington D. C. thinks they are in charge. They don't believe in serving the Public, nor really Representing their voters. There have been calls to broaden the bases of both parties, by labeling everyone something and pretending you are going to send something special their way soon. I don't like my doctor putting me in a box I will never accept political parties trying that with me.

About these Health Care plans circulating the Congress, why don't they post them so we can read them and decide? That wonderful bill they passed on without reading, we could have read that for them, honest there are some real speed readers out here in America. Hiding behind the words, the wonderful, excessive verbiage.

I have lost a blogger, it has happened a couple times before in my life, I need to get a lot more links and then not visit them daily. What is very nice is that sometimes they come back better and even stronger and always amazing. If it is time to go on, go gently, and remember the good times.

Well, since my coffee is gone, the evening cooling off and I am still short of sleep for the week, I will slide off the Internet and into the place where dreams dominate and maintenance of body and mind happen best. G'nite y'all...

Palm Sunday like it ought to be... baseball!

I shouldn't write about the stuff that doesn't affect me, and I shouldn't write about the stuff that does. But since I have a niece knee deep in Snow in South Dakota I thought I should share that Spring has arrived with a "Worth the Wait" attitude. I dressed and went to choir practice early, made a pot of coffee and started singing Christmas carols - I love God rest ye Merry Gentlemen. They brought me back to today and our programs soon enough, we had the service all the songs and Communion, the day is full. My friend and I talked after, then I went out (since my wife is off with the ladies of her generation and church). In the game, on deck and then at bat, a solid single.

Range 15, Fort Lewis, and my M1 Garand. I only fired twice, eight rounds at fifty yards, sight adjustment another eight rounds at one hundred yards and I am happy with my rifle and promising myself more dry fire practice for the best of reasons. I did have more ammunition, but the beauty of the warm Sunny Spring-like day was not to be wasted, I had my rounds in the black and would be back. I met a brass rat, he harvests and reloads and sells them to folks to keep his ARM from kicking him out of his home - all retirements aren't equal. I also had some interest in my M1, from other shooters and a young man without a clue - he asked me if it was a Mauser - I laughed at that and told him what it was, I don't think I am qualified to own a Mauser, I am several rifles over my limit. A nice day and I kept the target, for analysis later. That is like hitting a double!

I went home and sure enough, my wife was still missing so I wheeled the Trusty Triumph out, put on my desert gauntlets, helmet and D-harness boots and I was gone. I did have to get a ride in for fuel, for fun and for fantastic frolic. Harley-Davidson had emailed me about a test ride at the local dealers, but there were so many sunshine riders out that I wasn't slowing down unless it was a red light, stop sign or an emergency. The day was perfect, the bike leaned so well, the smiles creased my ancient laugh lines, I never stopped but found what I was looking for and returned home happier than I deserve. That was like hitting a triple and driving the runner home.

So this time my wife was cleaning her car, and I suggested we go walk the park and we did, then I filled up my Caravan and got it washed and cleaned it up on the inside when we got home. And I washed and shined my Trusty Triumph, because I am just not the kind of rider that worries about what he looks like, only how he rides the road. Walking with my wife and working around the home is a home run, well, and all baseball should be so meaningful and steroid free.

Time sure flys when we're having fun...

Yeah, even a quiet day - aside from going out to have a nice dinner - goes too fast, most of today has been talking about our dreams and nightmares, our better past and all the blessings we have had. The missed opportunities and the funny way we got more than we deserved and the laughter and warmth of three or four different cultures, hundreds of friendly good folks we met and the things we need to do as we shut down the operations as the body gets older and slower and the heart pounds on steadily. As long as it is together we will be okay - either of us alone is a danger to society, luckily we aren't as dangerous as we once were, and certainly better that we behave because love and laughter has been our brightest spot in the darkness of "THEY" and their conspiracies against our happiness.

I wrote that I wasn't aware that I was surrounded by so many beautiful women when I was younger, but I was totally aware, in the picture my sister Joy, my mother holding Paula (who was a knockout then and now) and behind the camera I figure my little sister Nanette (as an angry teenager). Best part of it that their hearts are what is the most beautiful, lasts long past the earliest wrinkles and the nightly removal of makeup.

As I step outside the fence yesterday...

I get released from Prison every day, and am going to keep working on that certainty. I had a loaf of oat bread in my backpack (prisoner bakery school) and the sky was beautiful blue and Mount Rainer gleamed bright whitely across the Sound behind Steilacoom. There at the top of the little hill is where that picture of me on my Trusty Triumph should be taken, on a great afternoon like it was. Seems like all my pictures of me upon it and the road are in a parking lot, rest stop and boring. And riding isn't boring, but then I am not selling the motorcycles and no matter how many times one watches The Great Race, or some such almost reality programming - we don't have a cameraman or woman taking our pictures of boldly beating hearts leaning into the turn and twisting that throttle to power back up.

There were lots of motorcyclists and wanna-bees on the road going home yesteday - no flashing inverted Vs yet, too cool to cold, too anti-social (think bears woken early from hibernation - irritated and hungry), and I am not checking but my own fine motorcycle has water and splash stains and marks from rain riding instead of polished mirror finishes. I am so about the ride, that I forget the minimum image maintenance - being old I want more miles and belly laughing smiles than envious stares from those that just wish upon my happiness. It will be two years on the twenty-fourth of this month, and I have my registration updated, and my insurance company wants more money, sigh, and the weathermen say rain and colder are on the way -- but yesterday going home was great, especially the neighbor's grandchild on his training wheeled bicycle looking over his shoulder at me on my bike coming behind him at the court turn around. The one time I could have used the blasting bellow of a Harley, have you seen the Iron 883?

Yeah, breath long enough it will happen...

No, I am not replacing the Trusty Triumph, nor the lovely Lady that woke in the night to set it up and then light the candles way too early in the morning.

Thank you, Mom, for bringing me into this strange and interesting life and certainly for putting up with my totally male attitude and chest thumping.

We finished the cake and are looking forward to work, movie and dinner so, be good out there cause the Democrats can't change a vote in Congress for a BOWL game - priorities, priorities.

well, it is finally over, my wife said it was enough...

So, Winter wonderland white outside the doors waiting upon us, she declared it was time and we packed it in. My mother doesn't give up until my birthday, but she will pack it in, too. Christmas cheer is permitted to remain, just not the decorations, the memories and warmth lingers, but not the blinking lights. I have been given pages from my Grandmother's scrapbook, the ones with the cards and notes. Her sister unfolded one card and filled the inside up with a letter, to include the back of the card - now that has been read more than once. Lots of the birthday, Valentines and wedding anniversary cards my mother signed with my name and made me give to my grandmother - that had to be wonderful - we lived in walking distance, and a trip to her home was always an adventure - the cards were from the years I was still two or three. I have a personal performance of my cousin's talented grandchildren on CD, with private label, and a sweatshirt that proclaims "Librarians The Original Search Engine".

So for all that is best in you, the warmth of love banked in your heart, smile the year through and share the cheer.

Veterans Day, who and where are they...

I studied a bit of history, my mother made me - thanks, Mom! And I know that Veterans Day wasn't always such, it was Armistice Day, when the guns fell silent. The eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month and the guns fell silent. That must have been wonderful and a bit unbelievable for the trench rats and their brethren the mud slogging combatants of the Great War, a perfect peace later ruined by politicians at large elegant tables with papers and punishment and plunder on their minds, such little men.

What I knew of Veterans from my early years was that they were the stuff of legends, they were the backbone of the troop formations and armies that I read about. They were the stiffening and the perfection of deadly thrust and totally unafraid in the face of thousands. I knew about the 300, about Napoleon's Old Guard at Waterloo. All that from the stories, movies and television - boy, did I know veterans and what they were good for. Of course being a Boomer, I was living with a veteran, his Ike jacket hung in his closet with his ribbons and patches on it, there was a Japanese saber, a pistol belt and an M1 bayonet, too. I didn't understand what that meant to him, why The Gallant Men and Combat! , some of my favorite shows, didn't excite him or even entertain him. Being a high school graduate of 1966, I knew the godless Communists were waiting for me in Vietnam, although I did waste a semester in Coral Gables before I went off to become a soldier. My father did tell me that I wouldn't like it as we said good-bye.

So I had to learn to go where I was sent, do what they wanted me to do, to do it well and to understand they would punish me for my failures and foolishness. Although the foolishness was always so much fun, I did have enough pride to really work at war and becoming a soldier.

I guess that I started to consider myself a veteran by the time I was a Drill Sergeant, I had served in Korea, Germany and Vietnam, had bit unfriendly fire in Korea and Vietnam and had done just fine. My father finally talked to me a bit about his war when I came back from Vietnam - he only had Leyete and Okinawa, as a Combat Engineer and a teenager - the year he lost being nineteen. His brother was in Italy and mentioned that he was glad he hadn't earned a bronze arrowhead on his campaign ribbons, that was given to the assault forces, my father had one. Another veteran in my life, my uncle earned a commission in Italy and stayed in the Army through the early Cold War years. I thought he was too tough on his sons, but then he had four of them. My grandfather, the Methodist minister and missionary to El Cerro in Montevideo, he had served in the American forces in France in the Great War, he hadn't served in combat duties since he was a Pacifist but he did serve. He spent most of his life working for International Peace.

My mother is still pushing History at me, yesterday's email:

Remember our ancestor   Jabez
Cleveland  who died in the Battle of Bunker hill. And our other
ancestor  who fought in the Revolutionary war, as a member of the
Virginia Militia, he was an Archer (last name, don't know his first
name).In the Civil War only Don's family fought in it.

Those Civil War veterans were named Bauer,
which in German (where they came from) means farmer or peasant.  Which
gets me to my point about Veterans Day, I have a point, really.

The Veterans that really ought to be thanked, are the ones that went to
battle and came home and built a life away from the terror and turmoil
of combat, that work hard to keep their children and grandchildren from
the fear and outright terror of killing or being killed by other men
trying their best to live through it all and get home to build a
different life. Don't get me wrong, most of them have exactly the same
courage to put on the war gear and go out and face the fury again, but
they also have the discipline to build that better life, the patience
to put up with a little stupidity and discomfort for the future, and
the intelligence to want to have Peace and know when it is time to go
back to War.  And to the unknown woman with daughter and husband that
stopped to tell me that she thanked me for my service in Vietnam, me
the tough guy that couldn't break through the fragile armor that hid my
pain to say anything - I want to say Thank you for that little touch of
kindness, it has always meant so much.  A Nurse and a Marine
are veterans worth reading, but there are thousands of stories out
there, think about the Veterans and those young people in uniform
becoming Veterans as I speak.

Friday, furiously finishing...

I normally step out long and quickly, the foot race to the gates from the ferry, and today I am a winner! I pick up a backup tape on my way into the prison, get the distribution from Control and open the library, turn on the computers and the day is fast and full and fun. Everything in its place and still bubbles of something new and something different, when the patrons show up in the afternoon they are loud and boisterous. I have three hours of roar and rumble of bass voices, then suddenly Recall is sounded and the library empties, my crew cleans off table discharge, puts the chairs in place as I turn off computers. They wish me a good week's end and one mentions he has a four day weekend since his mother is visiting on Monday. I tell them that I will see them Monday, Lord willing as I time stamp the time sheets for their departure. Silence, I put the radio away, turn off the lights, pick up distribution and walk to the door, going out and turning around to lock it. Check the door, turn the knob and shake - the library has finished its first week of November. Only rest a bit before Monday starts it again.

But you didn't turn me on...

So you don't have to return the favor, love that lady in the red CTS. But I was working on self control, trying to get self back in myself. So with the computer down, the television off and no one calling me I did more than recent normal, break fast with my wife, head for the YMCA for more work on self, I watch a TurboJam commercial while I work out wickedly. Back home to stuff to do for us....

I am sharpening the lawn mower blade, with a file, like bayonets and axes, sharpen with file - yes, you could use a grind stone, a wet one and slow but there is art and art has heart and hand sharpening with a file brings back memories. Sharpening my swords before Hastings, or was it my ax, or spear? Riding a horse meant you could carry more weapons in case of loss or breakage, walking means you have to carry the extra weight and get moving somehow and hope it doesn't get in your way. Kind of like all the body armor and three types of killing ammunition and grenades and water and digital I-pod/camera/cell phone of the modern warrior in Afghanistan or Iraq.

I get called to lunch, ramyon with shimp and mon-du, the bright-eyed lady I came to the dance with across from me eating rice and kim chee. I have the Bluegrass playing and she starts mimicking the sound of the sad violins and voices, she catches the tones perfectly. I finish put the stuff away and change the cable to Korean music, telling her that I will start singing along one day. Outside the sound of jets, from the Air Base - the Air Force is on display, everything they tell us they fly is on the flight line or in the air today, the stuff they don't tell us about we will never have to give up to our enemies. The Thunderbirds are on at three, the highways all around are packed with slow moving cars trying to get somewhere. I still have to do the grass mowing and area beautification.

I know what Heaven is like, or at least my piece of Paradise.

I am so easy to impress...

So I go see Kung Fu Panda with my wife and enjoy it. The animation is great, story is fine, and no sex or violence - oops, there was violence but only in the best cartoon manner. What struck me as more important were the Asian artistic moments - real art that splashed on the screen and into my mind as the story rolled by. Movie in between was Indiana Jones and I have no comment except I am getting as old as Harrison Ford and I don't do fool things like I once did when I was Hans Solo's age. Yesterday on a whim and Senior Discount Priced tickets, (I was carded for proof I was so old!) we went to see WALL-E and had a great time finding true love among the mechanical. Again the animation great, no sex nor violence (well, he is a trash compacter extraordinaire and SHE is a GUNNY! with a quick draw solution to threats). Hand holding is key, reach out and touch someone.

I am starting to look like the people on the AXIOM, best go and get physical and sweat some away.

All is right with the world... or our little piece of it

He brings four younger women and two men into my dreams, not directly military but in the background, and my wife hugs me closer as she sleeps, and my life is a bit more alive than normally. I check some of my favorite blogs and then run back home after finding this jewel to share from the Edge of Empire. Oh, go out and do great little things today. In so many ways I was happy he had a skateboard in his hands.

Happy Friday, First Day of Summer and it is...

Noticed while riding my motorcycle to work, that it was a great day. My workday planned out, a hundred and fifty new items to link and circulate, ILLs to request, patron information requests to answer and the Sun would be with us all day. That was how it went and the day was fine, I have about three hours of work on Monday, open one hour for patrons, then I close until Wednesday, my son is coming home before heading off to Hawaii. His room has been cleaned and prept, the spare bathroom is off limits to me - my wife has cleaned it and left the silent notice that I had better not mess it up. I have motorcycle safety stuff on Saturday morning, a Patriot Guard mission for the last units of the 4th Brigade of the 2nd Infantry Division, returning from Iraq in the afternoon, then a Homeowners meeting and grass cutting and house cleaning after that.

I will say our cold wet Spring seems to have been beaten back by Summer Sun, but most people feel it is only an illusion, the rain will return. The only temperate Rainforest is just across the Sound and it doesn't dry out in the Summer. Tacoma got to eighty-three degrees today, but Spokane got even higher so our season is officially and beautifully changed. Have a great one!

I broke ten thousand! but who is counting?

Well, the sky opened up and Sunlight blinded us for a bit, then the Blue warmed us and Friday ended so well, riding the trusty Triumph home through the busy roads with other cyclists and cars and cellphone addicts. On Saturday I went for my second social event of the week - aside from church I am a recluse and they hardly notice me there.

I met the other motorcyclists at Denny's, some I work with on McNeil Island but most I didn't know. Some girl friends, wives, one young son and bikers in leather and personal colors riding a Gold Wing, Harley's, Honda Shadows, and one trusty Triumph. Off we went around Mount Rainier. Until we got to the Eastside of the ride it was cool and gray but as we climbed the clouds burned off and lifted and that Sunlight hit us. We got into the snow line - yes, there is still snow up there. Actually, there are earlier seasons and the potential of Polar Bear habitat, don't even think about swimming in mountain water. The sights were awesome, the ride thunderous (some of the riders don't believe in quiet throbbing) and fast, and the roads really mean it when the sign says rough - was that a six inch or nine inch drop and where did those holes come from? When it freezes at night the roads crack so well under pressure, like the rock face the road was cut into.

The National Park has signs against carrying guns, the bars along the way had announcements against guns and under age people wandering inside. I wasn't drinking anything but coffee and wasn't interested in carrying guns to make someone nervous - but I watched to see what was going on. I got an oatmeal cookie with the coffee at a tourist stop, and later potato salad and a big hamburger in a tavern with service away from the liquor for minors. I had a root beer there. My luck in gambling hasn't changed, I had a pair of tens, a queen, a deuce, and a five, couldn't beat three of a kind by two other riders.

We ended the ride at the sponsor's home and a barbeque, it was my first group ride and aside from spending my time concentrating on keeping up and more or less (much less) in formation I really enjoyed it. On my own I would have gone slower, stopped more for beauty - both natural and enhanced female types, and taken more pictures of same. I do think I might drag my wife along on something like this again, or on solo jaunts into the great Northwest, on Sunny Days, because there is so much to see and do out there.

The ten thousand I broke? the mileage on my trusty Triumph, it was 10,235.4 miles when I parked it in the garage last evening. Need to clean and maintain it today, it has done a fine job.

It isn't as bad as I want it to be...

End of the day, wrapping up and I am listening and looking at 'Raqstar which makes me want to get off the comfortable life style and back to the dust and duty. Too old, too old, too old. The meeting went well, good work done, changes to start next week at work, a day for medical visit and book and CD buying, a day to present the ILS Blog again - keep pushing it will happen or I will just go back to my exile on McNeil Island. Another man joins the ILS pack - four of us now and we do add so much to the day, and the return of one most capable former Marine to working with us, she was really good. I did try to keep tabs and reach out and touch an old friend today, it didn't exactly happen but that lack of social graces (or whatever mental illness I am denying) gets in my way. I did get to ride my motorcycle and feel frozen for most of the morning - it is June isn't it? I wished a nice Library Lady a Happy Birthday, and noticed that Kim had a couple of very nice recommendations for .22 caliber rifles, very nice. I was drooling over his CZ 550 Ultimate which is on my Lotto winning list - MegaMillions is tomorrow, right? I have been invited to welcome back the 4/2 to Fort Lewis, the advance party was in at the end of May and the rest are coming Friday and Sunday. I guess two of my Iraq links will dry up and I will have to find a new source for my daily fix. I will be glad they are back. So, I can now wrap my day up, no one noticed my concealed carry, which is what is supposed to happen. Looking in a mirror somewhere today I noticed another crag in the face, erosion wears one from inside out...

Closed down and moving out...

I wrapped up a short week at the library, the crew did well, and what needed out is gone, what came in was receive and processed, the circulation was great on Monday, hanging back because of a Fire Alarm on Tuesday, and a too short hour on today. My Liaison checked in and looked around the library to see if we were still getting ready for the big inspections coming for accreditation. She thought we looked good, I think we will look better - I may be harder on myself and crew than some. My supervisors, the Gang of Three, are off plotting discomfort and readjustments in our, the Library Keepers, lives and work. Tomorrow we join them in Federal Way at the Palisades Retreat.

So for two, or three days for those from Western Washington institutional libraries, our services are cut off to our special populations. I will watch eagles swoop by, and humming birds dance, and take notes to be ready for work on Monday. Really it will be interesting, the other Keepers are better at social graces than I, are hard workers, and some of them have a great sense of humor - if we didn't laugh we would cry - something said to me long ago and far away, but it stuck. I packed up some work and ideas to share, and I will share, gently - I don't need to make waves, they will know I am around even if I don't grate and irritate. I am riding my motorcycle, the weather man promised no real rain today, and the forty plus degree temperature isn't a problem, it is near sixty-something by the time I take my last ferry ride of the week, low tide was 12:30 pm today, deeply it drew.

On my way home I stopped at the Triumph Dealer, to pick up my foot pegs. Seems I am dropping the bike too much and have to replace parts as they break. Which would make me an almost mechanic - but I am not - I treat putting things together to work like those wooden puzzles and IQ tests. I bought the Military approved reflective ugly orange vest by ICON, for riding on the Air Force Base and Fort Lewis. At home I had a great dinner, said good-bye to my wife going to church and I started working on cleaning, greasing chain and replacing broken parts and looking deeply at a new headlight rim, since it was one of the injured from the last great wreck. By the time my wife returned I had the motorcycle ready for the morrow's mission, she would start to work on fish and I would iron the shirts and close up domestically. Time for the hot shower - I washed my grease stained hands and arms three times this evening, do I really need a shower? Cyberspace isn't sharing smells yet, is it? Good night!

Electric Noise

I listened to the radio, the television, the computer and then turned them all off and went looking for what I had missed while plugged in - tuned in - turned on - zoned out... It takes too long to load, don't watch that video clip, you didn't learn to read fast to watch the load meter. Go to the gym, mow the grass, ride the motorcycle, buy some wine, go jogging, watch the sunset and the stars come out. Hard to believe, there is life outside the front door... goodnight!

Morning has broken

I check email, some blogs, and change my blog a bit. Yesterday went well at the presentation, we have permission to build the blog and will be open for business as soon as the new Communications Officers are on board. I went to lunch with the blog building crew and then rode fearlessly home along I-5, stopping at the Triumph dealer to see if my parts had come in and listen to the motorcycle lady talk about: what they had, she has done and that I wasn't old. Yes, she was good looking and checked for the status of my parts; so I can't hold it against her that she is too kind. The various models of my size motorcycle, 800 cc, call to me to try them out.

I have been thinking about spending the money the George in his goodness gave me. I could save it for gasoline, my shirts have frayed much from washing and ironing over the years, I lust for a powerful pocket pistol (those things I lust for are too often safe from me, procrastination piles await such). I am taking notice of the dew damp grass, will attack it later after drying, the edging out front could start after devotions, breakfast and exercising. My wife is still sleeping, she sleeps hardest in the morning and I sleep hardest immediately after going to bed. I wonder if it was a life full of get your rest while you can, for something wicked this way comes to wake you abruptly. Rockets and rackets, red glares.

Nice thing about today, the weather is warm and wonderful, most of my work is done or can be delayed, the Azaleas and pink dogwood are in color and bloom against the massive dark and light greens of the forest behind the fence. Birds are out and about, bumble bees have buzzed me as I lay on the ladder to get a shot from below, then set the ladder up to get a bird's view of the yard. The wooden shoes from Wisconsin via Holland slipped on easily and walked the yard collecting damp clippings, better them than my toes and then the kitchen. Second mug of Black Coffee, it is time for devotions and betterment, may our world be more beautiful and our time to appreciate it longer.

great day !

Sure I get to ride my trusty Triumph to work and home, which makes every day a better one, but that wasn't putting a smile on my face. I was happy because I have two new library crew to train and play with. Oh, I don't really play with them, but since they cause me so much amusement as they learn that real work happens in the library, and routines are designed to prevent mistakes and errors - one could say I am playing. First worker showed up, and I get him to understand the rules that will get him fired for breaking them. An Expectations List from our leadership above, and it does a fine job of making it clear what the clerk can't do, and how important customer service is. Then I showed him a sample time sheet, and that he would be making forty-two cents an hour, six to seven hour days if all goes well. Then I get him started on shelving, and finding out that he doesn't know enough, but I am there for training and he listens and works it out. Then I go looking, on the telephone, for his partner - the other new guy. He is found asleep in his rack, and comes to work without his glasses, which means he can't read and that will slow him down all morning. Although my own work is slowed by my training the new guys, I am still happy that they are here, the current crew is accepting of them and their decided shortcoming in performance are exceeded by their willingness to learn and ask questions. I even have accelerated putting them on the circulation station, to give them nightmares tonight. I will repeat tomorrow because the tough circulation days are Monday and Tuesday with little recovery time between patrons. And although I love to think I am a fine trainer - we are missing one book and one music cassette already - they either got checked out improperly, or put where they don't belong. Which is a kind of normal in new clerks that seem to think I will take their heads off if they make me upset - do I look like the Queen of Hearts?

Rituals and wrinkles...

I start my day, the entry into the world of work portion, by getting the Regimental coffee mug turned into Regimental Shaving Mug down from the medicine cabinet. I take out the brush and turn on the hot water and moisten the bristles and start whipping up a froth of shaving soap. I have whipped up a froth or two elsewhere and in more exoitic places but not for my shaving, but stirring up hornets' nest has nothing on getting men to rise up and charge into combat in foolish gallantry and certain slaughter.

Just an old man's thoughts, as he whips up on the soap. Of other times and other places, which is probably why he has never seen the real face he wears in public. Once preparing to play an old man's part in a church pagent he thought about adding wrinkle lines with some eye liner or grease pencil - then looked and saw that the lines were deeply etched already - a miracle of God? or just a true measure of the blessings bestowed in his life? He remembers when as a teenager he carefully shaved with a straight razor, while his father swore by his electric, and after the careful application of English Leather or some other scent sure to succeed, and the long combing process to get his hair rolled up just right he would pronounce himself still very ugly but one of the toughest boys in school, never backing down. The old man smiles as he thinks about the fool's focus but fine false courage, no wrinkles then but lots of fears fought off.

Stop and put down the mug and brush and get a good double handful of hot water to rinse off the sleep and soften the skin and stubble. Hot water is so wonderful, remembering cold water shaves and showers or helmet baths in frozen places, so warm and loving. Time to apply the shaving foam, twirling the foam and touching bristles to beard - well, it would be a beard if he didn't cut it off. Doesn't get kissed any more for shaving than he does when whiskered - why does he cut it off? Trying to stay young? It is easier to remove the whiskers than to maintain a civilized image with a ragged beard, so he maintains the ritual. Time to prove he is still a man, must shave and make ready to meet the world. If one is going out to die make sure he has clean underwear and he has shaved. He has now a white foamy beard, he always knows what it would look like if it grew and hid the face under it.

Quickly taking up the razor, he expertly slashes soap and stubble away, wondering to himself why do all those models and actors with no hair on their chest always have two days or better worth of stubble to pose in maturity, sexy or just psuedo-sexy? Slash and rinse the blade off to slash away again. A nice close shave, drawing the sagging skin tight so the razor glides along the lubrication and cuts cleanly the hair. Check after rinsing, soft skin waiting for the woman's touch - ah, he will never ask and will always appreciate her touch. Which her? his memory asks, and the old man laughs - there were never that many that got that close, count them on one hand and happy that they were all wonderful and very special. Distracted he cuts slightly and starts to bleed a bit, must be time to finish and greet the world. Slapping on some after shave to stop the bleeding . Normal morning = spilling a bit of coffee and blood, offerings to the little gods of chance and luck.

Looking again into the mirror - and really looking - he sees a deeper crease that he doesn't remember being there yesterday. Wondering how the ten pounds of new fat hasn't found a place to hide in his face, but happy that the wrinkles all lift and crinkle around his eyes when he smiles, he must remember to smile more, his heart will be happier and yours will, too.