From the Big Bad Wolf...

The Bookworm Award...

Rules:Pass it on to five other bloggers, and tell them to open the nearest book to page 56. Write out the fifth sentence on that page, and also the next two to five sentences. The CLOSEST BOOK, NOT YOUR FAVORITE, OR MOST INTELLECTUAL!


Okay I will play, the book beside my left elbow as I stood at my computer reading is:
(well, just guess)

"The response to the call for the minute men was remarkable. This was a touchy point, since it meant that the regimental commanders, in allowing the minute men to organize themselves and elect their own officers, would actually be giving away not only one-quarter of their strength but also many of their best fighters. In view of this, the active support that the regimental commanders gave to the reorganization is one of the best indications of the strength of the minute man concept."

from "The Minute Men: The First Fight: Myths and Realities of the American Revolution" by John R. Galvin

Now to five bloggers that may read and respond, well

My sister teaching in high school Just a Math Teacher not very original title but she writes about her work well.

Little Drops into the pool of Life, whose Friday funnies are great and what she cares about shows in her other postings.

North View Diary which I automatically reversed to Northview Dairy, which isn't far from totally wrong since there are real cows on the property. The words are worth the read and the pictures are awesome.

The Breda Fallacy.. Breda is working on nail polish and sharing right now, but she works as a real librarian in a real library so she probably reads when they let her out.

Oops! one would think I don't read any men's blog so I give you - Wyatt Earp from Support Your Local Gunfighter, I don't know for sure that he reads, there are rumors.

We do remember how to make choices, don't we?

After Bible study, the men started talking about who they wanted to vote for, one confessed to voting the way his wife would approve of, so he would have dinner at six - when he expected it, instead of having to make it himself. Well, we all make choices, but I was surprised by the number of men that still weren't decided - enough wrong with both candidates that they didn't want to vote for either. One man had already voted and left off voting for a Presidential Candidate - just didn't pick anyone, and that is a vote that means as much as picking one.

When I went out to the garage this morning, I found the mouse trembling in fear, looking at me from inside the big glass jar where my wife had him trapped. He had eaten and moved the apple to the point that he couldn't stand on it and reach the lip of the jar and climb out - TRAPPED - his heart rate was way faster than mine. Well, killing the fierce predators is my job, so I got out my 9mm and blew him away - nothing too small about that round. Or maybe I just put my work gloves on and grabbed and squeezed him until his eyes popped out and he expired... or maybe I decide to leave him for my wife to handle when she got up... or I made a choice and took the little furry pest outside to where the cats patrol and allowed him to make his best get away. The jar was empty and my wife cleaned it up thinking I had destroyed him. We make choices, and believe what we see, what we think happened and what we are told that we trust. And maybe the little rat gets away, or maybe he didn't.

I voted for people I trust to go into all the offices campaigned for - After the exit polling victory is announced, before the Electoral College meets to make whatever official, I will start writing letters about repealing gun control laws, building rifle ranges, and putting guns back into the schools and libraries of the nation. What are we afraid of, the law abiding citizens with guns or the criminal and terrorist?

Can't be too many women with .45s, never enough.

After the terrible shooting last time, and Faster! wasn't good enough I wanted some quality time on the range with my Colt, and took it. Of course there are other things in the world, and I have duties and responsibilities and my idea of fun isn't always the same as my wife's but I dropped her at the Elders' Day church picnic and promised to be back by lunch. And that gave me just enough quality time with my pistol for thirty rounds, two 8-round and two 7-round mags, with twenty rounds left for Faster! But time ran out - there is never enough when one gets older and your plate is full.

It was good shooting, or as I like to think, good enough, although when I was distracted and dropped the one round, I stopped, took a hard look and laughed. I need more practice they should never leave the black and I could get tighter although, no one would believe thirty rounds when they are really tight. I enjoyed the picnic and the Elders Games and the Summer afternoon in the Great Northwest - my cup runneth over.

I do note that Brigid, Tam and Breda all write better about shooting, but I just like people that engage in their passions fearlessly. Works for me, now what was that fool reason for gun control laws? Don't pay it no nevermind, it is a FOOL reason.

Carrying a weapon today, and why not? I did...

I see that why one carries a weapon is a current topic, and Concealed Carry Permits are trigger words - cute, huh? So since I was carrying a weapon today, with nary a thought about shooting someone - why did I do it?

Well, I am well trained in weapons, to the degree that once men of judgment appointed me the EXPERT on combat pistols, and rifles. So I would organize my classes, conduct practices, and qualification runs until all the soldiers were qualified. I haven't written a book nor run competition ranges, but I have trained soldiers for combat and that is enough.

Since I had the power of weapons in my hands I had to come to a philosophy that met the requirements of when to use the weapons and why it would be the right thing to do. I have that philosophy, and I know when I will use the weapons and take life. But my thoughts aren't public, and I think it is much too serious, taking life, to throw out for others to chew upon and judge me and my actions in situations still to come. I won't allow you to judge me on my actions in the past that you don't know about - you will have to trust me, as I do you.

I have said in the past that I didn't want to carry a weapon that I wasn't going to use - because it is heavy and a bit of a bother. Restrictions of carry being the most annoying, most of my life being trusted and unrestricted with weapons and ammunition I find the Gun Free Zones stupid and unbearable - why do I suffer fools in positions of power? Because I don't pay much attention to fools and don't live my life by their stupidity.

Recently I have begun to carry a weapon for the belief that I should as a responsible adult. I should love my fellow man, should help render aid to the hurt and unfortunate, that I should support good government, that I should smile and be polite. Yes, as a responsible adult I should be a good citizen and I should be prepared to do what I can to help in all emergency situations and to promote good citizenship in our youth and make the world a better place to live and love.

You should carry a weapon, you should know how to render first aid, you should know how to fill sand bags, you should be willing to step up and bring peaceful resolution to stupid confrontations, you should be polite and make the day brighter for us all. I trust you will prepare for the worst and bring about the best, really I do trust you, you are a responsible adult aren't you?

I'd introduce you but...

You get an offensive but interesting blogger - self-centered, profane and vulgar but very smart and often amusing - that writes something about a young boy dressed and expressed and then distressed. And you follow a fellow that looks at the world, repeats his view graphically in four panels, that really does know the why of the young kid above and wouldn't trash him for his minor flaws in talent and technique. They do need to meet each other, but they won't, for diamonds in the rough cling to grease and clay, not each other. And I am very cautious about sponsoring the meeting of a person to another - in Korea you assume all kinds of responsibility for their future contacts when you do that.

Updated as I went for the morning heart jog, I thought about drawing a picture of a skateboarder poised on the top of a chalkboard, below which stood a formal, nose in the air, school marm with her mouth open into which was dropping some black ink - from the skater's pen and ink bottle in his hand. In my mind it was a perfect picture of many things, for I think both of these bloggers are self-centered - her because she is smarter and shows her superiority so well, except for the cute character flaw of cussin' (and America forgives that so well). And him, the skater that knows where his center of balance is as he flys through the air at all times, otherwise he will not have that skateboard to cushion his arrival at solids in conjunction with the reality of gravity and physics. But by the time my jog was finished I realized that all bloggers are self centered, we really do think what we have to say is worthy and I am always hurt by how little my family pays attention to my wonderful mind on these pages (but I will get over it, honest). When I get back and am still sweating gently, I read that I have been read and was graciously noticed, which like most of my blessings I don't deserve but get anyway. Thank you very much.

About the skaters, I still believe that they are there for our opportunity to live in space in zero g's, but what do I know? The picture is my son when I was off "Saving Saudis from Saddam".

Once upon a time,

There was a gang in my neighborhood, two boys and a wild young girl, they ruled our street and made life rough in the bedroom community. They threw the fallen apples at each other and didn't care that they bounced onto the golf course green-like lawn of the family across the street. That family was upset and wanted the sherriff deputy from down the street to do something about it, and he just wanted to come home and sleep - he worked with real criminals all day. I thought the family was a bit extreme for both being school teachers but maybe they had enough tiny terrors in their lives, too. Well, I went out and met the hooligans one day and took some grocery bags and suggested, like it was a game, that they pick up all the busted and tossed apples from the yards where they had thrown them. They did, and the street was cleaner and they could ride their wheels up and down again. I suspected the two boys were foster care, they had lots of toys to play with and little adult supervision, the girl was from "renters", probably subsidized by the state. Not bad kids but looking for adventure and some guidance. They asked me to play catch, and I noticed that Brady (the only name I ever got for any of them) never had shoes that fit, or half the time he had them on the wrong feet. I worked with him on that. He would go back home and get different shoes and on the right feet. We would play catch with a Nerf football or tennis balls. He would knock on my door and ask if I would play, and I would go out and play catch for awhile until he and his brother would be called to supper.

They all moved away, about six months later, that is what happens to the renters' homes and families. More children have come and gone, but they aren't worrying the streets, they are safe in their television or video game world. The apples fall from the tree and no one throws them around anymore, and there aren't big battery powered toy cars parked just off the street where the gang of three left them.

I've been asked to play, Start with rules:

Here are the rules for this little task:
1. Write your own six word memoire.
2. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you want.
3. Link to the person that tagged you in your post and to the original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere.
4. Tag at least five more blogs with links.
5. Leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play....

Warrior, wheels and wenched World's wonderful!



I find myself tagged by Breda, because Christina LMT had decided to share her touching (look hard for word/work play) generously.

Now the toughest part, not being very social I find it difficult to reach out to anyone and ask them to play, those that I could or would don't have blogs - sure sign of an ancient technologically challenged generation (MINE!). Curt, Wyatt, Jerry (looking for the Falkenberg fellow always), ToySoldier, and MC (because my son thinks if I had skated I would be doing what you do) would be my choices but they are busy folks with real lives beyond the blogsphere.

Just the boy at the back of the room, don't pay him any attention - he fades into the wallpaper neatly...

go gently into the night...

Evening at the supermarket and a young woman with a two year old girl in her arms and a four year old boy in tow entering the automatic doorway. A chubby middle aged man pushing his shopping cart out slows and then stops for the doorway to clear. The woman tries to grab a cart one handed and shifts the girl higher on her hip and pull a cart clear, but they don't cooperate, the carts are entangled and she is not able to watch the boy, get the cart and not drop the girl. I reach in and grab both carts and pull them apart and offer her a choice and as she takes one and says something I push the other into the long line of carts and smile gently at the boy, trying to make it reach my eyes and it did. Then I look at the chubby fellow waiting patiently for the world to clear his path and he nods approvingly and tenatively at me, I am above him moving into the store. Not a sound and the step on to the fourth level of defensive ethics, so seamless and in sync with the time and the deed meeting the need. Go gently...

Shhss!!! Library at work...

Yesterday the Chain came in, new inmates from other institutions, rotating because of... custody level, security or preference -- they get to move. Shackled in chains, on a bus that rattles with its own ills as well as those chains, with tiny windows that you can't pop out in an emergency nor look out as you are locked in until you arrive somewhere new and less confined. Rumor among the inmates is that there are two of the vehicles, the regular one to your next facility and the special that never unloads -- the really bad guys get on it and it only stops for refueling along the way and to load another guy somewhere else (no one ever gets off and they are never heard from again!).

When the Chain comes in and unlocks and unloads the institution is at peril, periods of transition are always the best time for attack, escape or insurrection and so security must be higher. After processing and the departure of the Chain bus things will go back to normal, well, a prison normal. In the library suddenly five to ten extra men will show up outside of the movement period and from the wrong units, their explanation: I wanted to get something to read.

Male voices are loud, deep and carry well - some of the inmates have trouble making anyone believe them unless the volume is overwhelming. So inmates from the chain are quickly establishing their rights, priviliges and collecting debts or establishing threat levels they can survive with (pecking order). Old buddies from county lockup two years ago, old buddies from criminal enterprises, old school buddies and of course the old drinking buddies.... re-establishing the connections, telling the stories and asking the questions. The noise level builds as the TRUTH is always LOUDER than fiction... unfortunately, I have good inmate library clerks, which along with their other duties show off their positive customer service skills by getting just as loud or better and shouting across the library to get information to that table in the corner. Lovely and lively here, sigh.

I am a guy, I understand and I listen for the mellow in the bass booming broadly by... situtation normal, no threats nor fears funded here, the Library is at work and the beeps of the computers scanning barcodes count the time. Still the noisiest Library in the planet, have to be first at something.