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.

Economy... if it were to be better,,,

If every dollar I earned was a whole dollar - not net, if I only paid for the product, not and the tax and the interest on the credit card I get slow about paying -- my economic situation would be so much better. Or, so I thought as I rode my motorcycle to work. Just take away taxing everything and it would mean I get to spend and invest more of my work in caring for me and those I love.

The first comment is without taxes the government can't exist and take care of the stuff it does -- which isn't exactly true but almost. I see a government that could make, print, create more dollars depending on the economy - when it expands and contracts. Just a thought.

And about the banks charging interest on consumer spending, smarter consumers and they will die on the vine - the cards are convenient, but the interest rate is terrible and for consumption just not the way to pay on time - you are paying for that Big Mack and fries long after they gone from your system...

Aren't you glad I am not helping the Treasury Department fix the current Crisis - I have already declared it a raid on the pockets of working Americans, by those that want theirs NOW.

Pushin' Spring...

Another frosty morning, but I look for signs of Spring anyway, my brother-in-law sent a picture of a crocus blooming in North Carolina, but I look for squirrels bounding along the trees and fence in back, and they aren't there. I check Facebook and find a cousin going on a biker charity food drive, temperature in the forty-so area, has Goldwing and good intentions, in Arkansas. I spend my time before the wife awakes deleting old emails, lots of old emails until I get down to the savers, two different accounts - and I have two work emails, too. How does such a recluse get so connected? although I don't dance on Facebook like some folks do, I did add books read to this year, I delinked some websites, finding one gone before I got there... every once in awhile I have to remind myself that real life is only imitated on the Internet, virtually friends and family are never going to take the place of reaching out and holding someone's hand or - not me! - giving someone a real hug. The vibrations and jello-like wiggles and bounces of a friend with a deep belly laugh are so much better than the ROFL mark on my screen. And although she may be the latest Swimsuit model on the beach, she is only two dimensional while that bank teller wearing her best revealingly (so daring and darling) can produce a smile if I get my act together and tease her just for our moment counting my money (three dimensions, warm and fragrant).

Okay, I am convinced, time to exercise, hit the road work, the motorcycle maintenance, shower and off to visit the Capital of Washington State and the Natural Resources Building for a briefing and a new challenge. Life is good, then they pull the plug and it gets better.

The Sun was out, the sunglasses needed...

Thursday afternoon as I got into the Caravan for the trip home the Sun was shining brightly, I put on the sunglasses and buckled the seat belt and put the machine in gear. Nice to go home with the Sun still up and shining, means that motorcycle weather can't be far behind, and Friday is the last riding day of this week - it is a date... So I got up and dressed and opened the garage door and rolled the motorcycle out to start it up. It is thirty-four degrees, frosty mostly everywhere, and foggy in butter knife cutting possibilities. Doesn't matter, get the boots on and grab the gear, if one has to be driven about something riding a motorcycle is a good way to go. With the fog I won't notice the fogging of the face shield, will I? Just riding in the gray cotton misty cold. The humidity is high, or those are really fat drops of cold cloud making the morning fog. Doesn't matter, only the ride, staying up and leaning hard and rolling up and out of it. Gets colder, since the gloved hands don't get warmer, I run out of the primary tank fuel, switch to reserve and ride on. So quiet, figuratively, and so alone and in control. Roll into the parking lot, shut down and leave the helmet.

Friday is clean up day, finish the unfinished week, wish I could go home early, but don't - talk books, tell the big old worker that F. Paul Wilson has a book about Jack before he got old enough to be a Repairman. Talk to one of my workers about David Drake, whom is the best writer in the current world according to the worker, I got happily stuck on Hammer's Slammers long before he (David Drake) wrote some nice postcards back to me while I was performing speed bump duties in Saudi Arabia in Desert Shield. We had lots of time to read as we waited for an opportunity to excel. I have finished building the March book cart of stuff to buy, will submit it on the 1st of March, doesn't pay to wait they could cut my budget again and I would rather be ahead than behind. I did a lot of talking today, even with other staff - very rare, but they have been talking to me about work, re-entry resources, motorcycles and today - rifles and shooting in Europe and here in the Northwest. I lock up after shutting down the computers, a good week of work - in four days, one more of five to go and February will be history, too.

I talk a little on the ferry, ride the bus to the parking lot and start smiling more as I get closer to the Trusty Triumph. Get the helmet, start the bike - remembering to put it on reserve tank, and ride off to re-fuel and go home. The Sun is shining, it is warmer, much, than it was in the morning, but the traffic is heavy and don't know about the economy where y'all are - the I-5 South lanes are a slow moving parking lot as I glance that way as I zoom over the bridge above the lost upon the highway to California... riding home is good the bike is responsive and I don't see the fearless woman on her Sportster, although I did yesterday, she has new black leathers with fringes, new to me. I think she goes home early on Friday afternoons. There must be a secret to missing all the red lights, but with too many cars there seems no hope. I do fill the tank up, and head on home. Roast, corn, potatoes and hot coffee the news tells me that Wall Street doesn't believe the Whitehouse about Bank NATIONALIZATIONS this weekend. But I am not holding stock (directly in banks now - my mutual funds are a different matter) in banks. I do trust my wife, my motorcycle and my M1 Garand - which I am off to shoot with tomorrow.

So what happened to my problem?

Well, after I left the island he continued to cause trouble where he could, almost got pounded by my crew as he decided to talk bad about them. Then he went into his drama with the Corridor Officer, again. And finally he went for his medication after pill line was closed and upset the officers there. So he was handcuffed and allowed his medications and as I was going home he went into the Hole - F unit, for segregation and attention. If I were a real betting man I would put my money on he wanted to get out of his unit because someone was after him - or he had stopped taking his medication and was out of control. I think it was someone is after him and F-unit does mean you are safe from inmates. I pulled three books for him to read, Dorothy Dunnett's King Hereafter, Stephen Hunter's Hot Springs, and David Morrell's First Blood. That should hold him until next week.

In the mail comes Newsweek deciding we are now Socialists, Time magazine wants to get rid of Handguns (196?) and Newsweek calls us Socialists (proudly), at least the Swimsuit Issue of Sports Illustrated arrived - I looked it over carefully, none of the models represent me nor my dreams - I am so out of it. But noting things like I do, more smiles from the cheerleaders than the bikini'd babes on the beaches - boring and bored looking doesn't do it for me, I am going for the smiles that reach the eyes. I am going for American Supermodel V-rod Muscle 14 month calendar. She wasn't there.... failed again.

It has been a great day!

Well, I rode my Trusty Triumph in forty-five degree weather, and loved its response and grace - even fat ol' men look cool on a well behaved motorcycle - wearing a tie and leather jacket. Okay, I really don't look that cool, but I feel that cool and powerful. I worked hard all day at the Western State Hospital Library, really felt I was helping, although I left piles of unfinished work for Kathleen tomorrow - it was just coming faster than I could learn and adjust in her arena. Then I received the magic email that said I could return to my island exile tomorrow, and joy jumped in my heart (one would wonder about that - but I have purpose, professional performance and pride in MY prison library). So I get to turn the keys, hit the switch and cycle back to heart, hearth and home. In time for dinner and then THE GUN NUTS show. It was a great show, and the chatroom even had some space for me, need to get quicker on the keyboard, but still so much fun. Now coffee and preparation for the world outside my computer, tomorrow comes too soon. Photo is 1971, FDC bunker, when I had a Harley waiting for me in West Virginia and a Lady in Korea... nothing I loved close - life is so good today, don't forget all our Service People everywhere no matter what.

Courtship or adoption, gone straying again?

I must be something, riding my motorcycle to work today and home. I seem to have attracted the notice of a feline from across the street. Well, some folks have it and some folks don't - or it could be that their front porch doesn't have the warmth of my garage and home, I am really not that attractive without the baggage of civilization's comforts. But I do pay attention to little things, which has its own rewards. Apple pie baking, pumpkin pies in the making and so far so good. Good night.

My wife cares but I wasn't cheatin'...

Partnership was working yesterday, I sat in my Caravan reading a book waiting for the dealership to open so my motorcycle could get serviced -- so I could ride safely (mechanically anyway) to Lincoln City, Oregon. She cares enough to make me do it right, then she only has to worry about my riding style - since she figures I won't fall asleep on the motorcycle like I would in the automobile. So the owner rides up on his big Triumph Triple and gets out of his coveralls and helmet opens the doors and comes over to ask how I got the motorcycle down here - but I just smile and don't answer that one.

We go in and he gets the key for the bike and starts his computer and finds me listed twice for parts purchased before - foot pegs and sissy bar. So I tell him I want my next service completed, new brake pads all around, all the nuts and bolts tight and inspection for broken or breaking parts that would need replaced for safety. He asks about the scrape on the front fender and I tell him about the accident and to leave the scars, I earned them in my inexperience. While he totes up the order and looks and answers the telephone I walk around the showroom floor - it is a show room. I don't want any clothing saying Triumph on it - I like the company but am not going to be a brand fan and poster child. I find the new Triumph American, and look it over carefully, I know it has more cc, is fuel injected, and cast wheels. I see a larger tank but still clean styling, the one I am looking at is black, I talk to him about it and say that it was too bad he didn't have it in blue. He says he has one in the crate that is blue - I come back quickly that I haven't won the Lotto yet and I have my motorcycle (which I imagine he would take as a trade in). Ah, I have been caught lookin' at new shine, curves and attitude. As old as I am I am not beyond that lookin' and wondering and dreaming, but I remain true to Trusty... and that woman that got me and the bike there yesterday morning.

It's Sunday, time to join the rest of Cyberspaced...

Woke from military dreams, again, never really shake them, and with a real war, almost, in Georgia I could have flash backs. No, I was never that high speed and my favorite computer war games never get beyond Knights in armor, unless I play Civilization and then Nukes are critical and lots of Engineers to scrub clean whatever is left. According to the civilized fools, a Security Council action is needed. Veto power with Russia and a weak statement by the American President, that hasn't left China and the basketball games, are signals to Russia that Georgia isn't in our direct interests. We should be able to sell all of NATO a missile defense system now, or they will make separate accords with the Russian Bear, which still has claws, imagine that.

No Men's Breakfast at the Church this morning, I will go to church later. Since one of our better old men died and he doesn't call and the best cook went to another church the breakfast has fallen apart and away.

I set up the plan to go shoot FASTER! this afternoon, the new postal match. Next week back to rifles. I do want to see how I will do on time, although I don't think fast draw and fast shooting is key to my survival - I like cover and concealment best - then gun control - aimed shots on target. I was reading about someone wanting to shoot, but laundry and mowing awaited her - I understand but everything in its place - practice on a piano, with the flute or violin, will ensure great performances - and you can still wash the clothes, cut the grass and play with the cats when they are ready.

Well, time to hit the road on the motorcycle, which is scheduled for maintenance on Tuesday - in preparation of my long trip to Lincoln, Oregon in two weeks.

UPDATE! Breaking News!

It has been discovered that I just don't shoot well, FASTER! Back to basics, practice, practice and more practice. Lucky me that the other guys aren't practicing more than I am - or am I just very fortunate that I don't have to worry about bad guys because I work in a gun free zone? And I will never go shopping for Crocs, even if they came in Camo or Airborne match my beret colours. Never... is a long long time. Well, back to watching the Olympics out of the corner of my eye as a re-read The Road, trying to figure out where Charlize Theron is supposed to be in the story - she has to be the long gone mother/wife? Didn't see her the first read at all, civilization is all gone, who talks to their memories? Oh, I do, but lucky I have the internet, so I can talk to my self.



Worthy words from The Road, "People were always getting ready for tomorrow. I didnt believe in that. Tomorrow wasnt getting ready for them. It didnt even know they were there." by Cormac McCarthy.

Washington Weekend Wrap, melt down...

Summer is here, actually the August burning brown the grass and the people, must have skipped July entirely. Sun, lots of Sun, and not a cloud in the sky, motorcycle weather. We said good bye to our son, going off to serve in Hawaii (well, someone has to do it) and rejoin his wife, in-laws and friends. He moves so much faster than his parents and he left good memories, things to think about and a cordless mouse for his Dad to speed around the computer cave with, I can actually do vertical mousings now - from across the room in the daybed. Remind me that second time visits to Sea Tac airport in a short time period are a bit sadder than the first one.

My wife went to catch up with Church stuff and I go off to walk, jog, run in a Relay for Cancer, and find myself lost for forty minutes, then find the High School in time for my turn. Get on the track early and the Weekend meltdown has started. I have a drivers side sunburn, and the Relay is closing for heat problems two hours early. They did well on lots of participants, donations and pledges, big band sounds and dedication to defeating cancer. Back to home and hiding from the Sun - the grass is burning brittle by now, my wife re-introduces me to the fan and feeds me iced fruit juices. I find an old high school classmate in my email and ask him for his bio - since he seems to have read mine. I wander the blogs and notice the other parts of the world, Sailorcurt sends co-ordination messages, he and Big Bad Wolf are in Washington working, both from Virginia, both former Navy and never have met before (save on cyberspace blogs) so while here on Sunday it is set up.

Sunday, if I were going to exercise get it done real early, or talk myself out of it quickly... did the latter faster than I should have, I am so easy. Dress for church, I do wear a tie and ride my motorcycle, last day as head usher and we wish there were air conditioning, but I demonstrate using the bulletin program as a fan by vigorous movement. The Pastor brings rousing Amens while preaching a return to God in our country, always and first. But isn't that like preaching to the choir? Well, my anxiety level is getting up to peak, the Outback Steakhouse doesn't open until three, I am no longer a social fellow - but I will try. Riding fast keeps me cooling as I enjoy Sunshine, purring bike and V signs with the others in the brotherhood - still don't know what it means to them but always means I am riding to me.

Well, the talk was rich, constant and interesting - you should have been here. But then it was just men and what we know and feel strongly about and wanted to share. The steak was great and the waitress efficient, lovely and one hopes her love life is wonderful, I was there for the talk and got way too many calories in the desert, but I didn't want to stop - could have gone for more hours easily but had wife waiting to see a North Korean song and dance troop. Back burning up miles on the highway at high speeds, safely, of course. The weekend has already claimed a twenty year old on a motorcycle at high alcohol speed.

Don't know how they did it, but Seattle had its marathon with the mishaps that brings, at least they started early enough. My son sends his pictures of Dad on motorcycle, he tells me I should get some of Mount Rainier in the background, well, maybe but when will he be back to take it?

Riding my motorcycle, alone again...

Seems I am too willing to brave the cold and foggy mornings and everyone else is waiting on Global Warming of Washington, but the rides were worthy - such an old man thing. I drop by the blogs and leave two cents, worth only twenty-seven mills today.

I figure that seven yards is too close to be proud of, and the targets don't hold up well to being blasted by bullets from my trusty .45, gift from my wife - while in Germany, such a nice gift. Well, the doctor's office tomorrow morning, but I get to ride the motorcycle again and then work the afternoon away.

Commuting

Just another day, I decide the weather man doesn't know what he is talking about, he has lied to me before, so I take the motorcycle out to ride to work. I have the rain jacket on, and leave off the pants. Ah, a mile from home the skies beat water upon fools, and I am, wet from jacket to toes and heels. Ah, the ride is great, in the dark and the totally wet, large puddles hiding pot holes, and adventure with the four wheeled folks on cell phones or with attitudes. It is never bad enough to stop and go home and more adventure waits just around the next corner, lay it over and roll on the throttle. One wet puppy reports into the depot after parking the bike, well, a damp ol' hound. I will dry out, and I notice the tide is especially high this morning as we load the ferries, I opt for sitting in front of the heater and steaming a bit. Inside the library I call Tacoma Public Library and find I have an interview for a position. I have one inmate with flu and one having interviews for housing in another state, our prison population overflows so we rent services and space. We knock out overdue notices, restrict patrons with over three weeks worth, do ILLs and fix the almost brand new Book Return box. The patrons are noisier than usual, the Sound is cold and wet, ravens pretend they can soar like the eagles and seagulls, but they can't. My boss is watching as she works and tells me a couple of things to correct, we have lunch together and I talk about other things and the Spanish collection and how the Germans do so well in a country we (and our allies) destroyed so well in the War. Finally it is time to go home, the library has been well used. I think, since the rains have almost stopped that I might get home without getting soaked, but then realize it is waiting for me. I get on the ferry and take a seat and plan the return home. Suddenly, after riding these boats for almost nine and a half years, someone spots an Orca in the water (WOW!!!) the normal tourist attraction pods are up North above Seattle and below Vancouver, BC. This is too cool and getting a glimpse of the large fin coming up and cutting back down is great, something to write home about. Then we get cast off and start across the water and the rains start to come down harder, yep. It was waiting for me, I get dressed in rain gear in the depot and ride home, much better prepared for the water and only my boots and socks will be soaked, since I have a hot dinner with a spicy noodle soup waiting my day is perfect. Tomorrow the minivan, the weather man says it will get drier after the Seahawks play Greenbay Saturday, but he has been wrong before.