Okay, now I am really ill....

I don't believe in Zombies, although people tied to their televisions, cellphones and such may be closer than I want to realize. Still today when I went to check with my doctor he had other specialists listed to see about how to improve me. Sigh, and my mother loves me the way I am, except for the far away and apart stuff. Anyway, my doctor wants me to see a Cardiac Specialist and get a Brain scan - anyone that knew me as a Drill Sergeant and Senior NCO would immediately know the doctor was trying to find a heart and mind - which were removed in my first NCO Academy for my future professional growth. What my doctor and I talked about is confidential, but really I wasn't buying it and probably won't anytime soon without something else changing.

I walked down to the dock today, like most days, and a bright red BMW pulled over and stopped and the window powered down, so I stuck my head down and around (hoping for that beautiful long legged red head of my mythology -- it wasn't) it was a sharp looking soldier with three metal proficiency badges above his left pocket and sunglasses on his head "Hey, Old Timer, would you like a lift?" Which is not the way to sell me a refrigerator in the Artic, Old Timer? do we know each other? "No," I answered, "I do this for the exercise and thanks for the offer." He drove off, I hadn't even been limping or anything but he was looking out for me. Ladies, he was a keeper if you could catch him... like I would know what a keeper was today.

The only other thing of note today was that I called BlogTalkRadio to make may opinion known on Gun Nuts Radio: Self Defense hosted by Breda of Library, Guns and Bacon fame. So I chatted and no one paid attention to me, and then I called and was nicely thanked by Caleb - but I probably sounded like an old man when I asked why he hadn't shot in his latest self defense opportunity - his answer was correct - the threat was gone so he didn't shoot. I also wondered but didn't ask why he was a target of the fool with the knife, what made him a potential victim? Still, since he threw his coffee at the perp I thought that was the first good move, getting his pistol out next was second, and not saying "put your hands in the air" was the third good non-move.

Okay, almost time to go get the hot shower and get to bed, I am so far behind in work and will crack the whip tomorrow. Since another doctor has my Thursday afternoon tied up in his office and lab. Can't wait to find out about the Brain Scan, I know there must be a good picture of my mind somewhere.... blank slate of course... I did get three green ball caps to use as Shoot Boss this weekend, two are perfect colors, no sewing on them yet. But the color becomes me... I hope.

When they take you where you don't want to go...

I have been watching the Hospital for the last couple of days, thinking that I am as reluctant to go there as I am to go to prison - as a patient or a prisoner anyway. I didn't think to go find their library while I was there, visiting the hospital is about as mind numbing as many things that are on the outside of one's comfort zone. Mostly mind numbing because you don't have a function and someone you care about isn't doing well, but then this is where healing begins - isn't it?

Having had some interesting motorcycle mishaps while I was young, and being too close to excessive explosives exploding I have had my personal time in a hospital bed, but couldn't remember too much except that I was treated well and discharged and told not to do it again. I got an award of the Purple Hurt Award for the explosives trash buried in my leg, which hadn't slowed me down after my hearing returned, but they didn't like all that blood in the pant legs, not in OCS, just wasn't STRACT (and I can't remember what those letters are for, will have to Google it). Only the Urban dictionary knows...

Anyway the Hospital, like prison, takes those needing healing from across the population, and they respond best to proud professionals - which maybe why patients do better at the healing than the prisoners? Something to think about. The stress levels are awesome in the hospital, and I watched today some painful abuse by a patient to two doctors trying to help him - but they weren't doing it the way he wanted - duh, where did he go to med school? One of the recommendations for a future Marine was to make friends with the Corpsman, he is only Navy but he can save you when another Marine can't. I always liked getting the cooks and the mechanics on my side, too. Trained professionals do count in the worst situations - which gets me back to the fine professionals treating hundreds of people every day in our hospitals they don't get enough recognition.

Yeah, best get in good with the Medical Staff, they will help you beyond what you deserve but that old guy in the corner might not want to put up with your belly aching when added to his other problems - you could be the one thing he could fix, and he lived too long on a short fuze.

Progress, isn't it just amazing? yes it is...

I can move in several hours to my mother or my son, and visit or find work and move in. Or they could move in my direction - well, my mother probably can't and since Washington joined Oregon in assisted suicide I wouldn't want my mother here anyway - she has told me for years if she lived in the same house as I did I would kill her. I did live in the same house as she did for years and I never killed her then, I did lots of running away and trying to keep her from messing up my life with other people (I could mess it up well on my own, thank you!)

So with things worrying at my wife, no real conversations between people hiding stuff from each other, wanting to make life better but not willing to give up control, or personal desires, nor the ability to make everyone feel guilty for not making your life better, and knowing that any President, no matter how many Rolling Stone covers he graced, can help. I give up! Maybe if I sleep on the problem the answer will wake me.

The morning after: my mother is buying a cart to carry her around, staying where she is and I have had a full night's sleep -- see what worrying gets me? Wrinkles and gray hair.

Goin' to Christmas time... tonight.

There is a performance of The Messiah, tonight at seven at my wife's church. I am dressed and still look like just an old man, sigh. The installer hasn't shown up yet - but they gave us 4:45 to 5:45 pm to arrive and since I only pay for bad service I get what I pay for. Not to say anything bad about Home Depot, but this is still disturbing my wife's harmony with the Universe - and that could ruffle my feathers were I a real turkey, but I am not. The camera has new batteries in it, the Cadillac is supposed to stay home because someone may hit it in the parking lot (my wife has more fears than I do). I will have to empty the old blinds from my Caravan and get it ready to go. Where is the installer? Why's everybody always pickin' on me?

Didn't go, the installer showed up, late, but he was so good at his job we forgave that and now have a really nice statement of taste in the family room. I no longer have any reason not to be strong, youthful and talented because of problems with Home Depot - there is a bit of an adjustment to be yet, but nothing that is going to stop me from getting the house in order and prepared for the holidays - so far one candy cane with my name on it and a rubber duck dressed as Santa, we can do so much better than that. Oh, just a by the by - it has been a year on this blog today. Happy BirthofBlogDay!

Wrapping up, a day off yesterday...

The coffee stop went well, learned where the highway money is going, it will be better in October and that will be a good thing. Gave out lots of coffee and cookies, free maps and directions to avoid ending up in Seattle (the Emerald City - with its Wizard and horse of a different color). Exchanged view points and snide remarks and fool comments with Hal, he postponed a dental appointment for a permanent crown to spend four hours laughing with me. What are friends for?

After I went to bail out my Caravan, it wasn't ready - I didn't leave a cell phone number for them to get my okay on a part, sigh, telling them to fix it doesn't mean the same to them and I. We went to look at computers for Hal and I to see what Office Depot had that I needed - it had a two pack of 2MG memory cards for my camera - I can take tons of pictures now, if I would only slow down to read the instructions. Like most products I own today - it can do so much more than I can use effectively - when do we fall back into the dark ages? Anytime soon? Before they find out what kind a fool I am, please. Hal didn't find a computer he wanted, nor did he find those coin holders for mailing off to relatives, and I need a Pennsylvania, Tennessee, Illinois and Alabama quarter - for all the quarters I find, none of those yet. I guess I saw the Pennsylvania one years ago but not since we started filling that silly book.

I got my Caravan and Hal went off to better things, I stopped at two gun stores. Handled, looked closely at and discussed the M1A Scout with black stock and ten round magazine - which I think is the perfect size, having years of carrying and shooting the M14, I do not like the twenty round magazine at all. "In the way" was the nicest thing I could say about it in polite company. They only wanted $1400 + cash price, and $1500 + for charge card (plus 9% sales tax) and do you want ammunition with that? Focus, Earl, you are going to get an M1 Garand from CMP and you can buy the best and ammunition for the price of that plastic and steel from Springfield Armory... the new Springfield Armory.

Then the second store looks like it does much less retail and much more re-sale and small scale (I have purchased weapons in both stores and like the service and the weapons so that isn't a thing I worry about). They had a pretty nice on the wall Argentine Mauser from the 19th Century - just too pretty until they allowed me to look closely at it and play with it, and they couldn't find their bore light although they did come up with a flash light - sad, certainly not worth the $235 they wanted, I would have only purchased it to try and save it, was pretty in the darkness of the bar and the fog of the fumes and the buzz from the vodka... that only happened when I was really young -- don't do the dark and the drink and no more picking up in the darkness.

So I am off on another wild shopping expedition, find me a Doughboy hat for shooting with. I really do need one, the way I was with the Drill Sergeant hat I will need that natural flop in front and back so I can shoot straighter - you have heard that clothes make the man... five more years of more fun than I deserve, one major event per month and start working on that procrastination pile. Okay, move some rifles tonight - you want to look at them anyway...

Lovely things to check out and make sure they still work, and fit and haven't left me in impatience with my lack of attention. Soon, very soon, time to get them out for their health and my happiness. Soon.

Isn't it nice not to shoot anyone today (or want to)?

One of only two humans on the planet Earth that I would shoot to death without question has raised his ugly head again. No one is giving me the shot and so I don't take it, but someone should, actually if I feel those two deserve my best shot, then they should have been taken out a long time ago - normally one doesn't know the name nor the history of the people one kills in war - doesn't that fact make it all so much more proper. You didn't really know who you just killed, only that it was okay at the time in the place.

These evil people aren't forces of nature, but certainly when compared to the worst natural disaster they have longer lasting effect, why don't enlightened civilizations destroy them before they become such? Well, they will die of their mortality, but never soon enough and you don't need their names - if they died suddenly you might have been part of a conspiracy and there are better things to do with our lives - give love a chance.

When up to your butt in alligators - please drain the

I was thwarted, the Corrections Sergeant wouldn't allow one of my inmate clerks to deliver F-unit (IMU and Seg) books without an escort - and wouldn't provide the escort. So I stumbled and the books sat in bins on the floor of the library for days. I wasn't smart enough to drain the swamp, I was looking at the alligators. I walked into the prison yesterday and went to the place and pulled the plug. I took the first of my clerks coming in from lunch and we went to F-unit, through the control gates, by all the cat calling cheerleaders on their way to chow (pay attention to me, please pay attention to me). Through the second interior set of control doors, sign in desk. We dropped off the books and grabbed a bin of returns to check in. It will work in the future, just don't tell my boss. My boss thinks that movements beyond the bookcases and chairs behind the desks are in the realm of impossibility and other fantasy worlds, for real professional librarians anyway.

It was an interesting day after, my three newest workers continue to amaze me with their immaturity and lack of knowledge and curiosity, we work on it. The experienced clerk asks, when it becomes obvious that my stress level is way up there and about to explode, isn't it a good thing that I don't bring a gun. That makes me laugh, I respond that all the children would want to touch it and see if it was anything like the pearl handled chrome Super deluxe that they remembered shooting sidewize.... just kids at play. When I really get upset I wish I had just enough C4 and detcord to take the library down properly - without any humans being harmed. A big enough bang would bring me back into focus and off of the alligators. I missed the inmate patron that stole the four brand new magazines from my desk in the library, he didn't want The Advocate, but the three Robb Report magazines were gone when I went to process them. Ah, did I forget I am in a prison where crime against the state and authority is honored, where they have nothing and everything over that makes them feel rich and blest? Looking at the alligators again aren't I? Look at the big teeth on that one!

Well, I don't read the Robb Report, I will never aspire to having that much money to throw around looking rich and cool. About thirty minutes after the theft was discovered another inmate walks in and gives me three new books worth about sixty bucks at our discount - donations to the library collection since he has read them. There is balance in the world, even my little one. I order more ILLs, check for the return of all the overdue notices for ILLs, all completed save one, and one that we never received that we will have to pay for, we will call on that one. I order a few more books for this month's book cart and answer email and put incoming book purchases into the catalog, thirty titles, we are always improving the collection. Library life is so much better than draining swamps, but I do miss those big at my control explosions.

Just a fifth of Patience, Black Label, please...

I have three inmate library clerks to train, and it is amazing how little they know about work and life and the library. I have had much success training real workers in the past, they understand work and what kind isn't a problem, for all real work is similar. If I get someone with good life skills I can train them also, great attitude and harmony with the lesser universe and work is just a different instrument to play on and they dance through our work day. I could blame lack of library knowledge on the school system, television or credit cards and book stores -- but it could be they just shouldn't be library clerks if they were never real library patrons - how much customer service can you explain to someone that has never been a customer?

Less than a week on the job and they already want the library to be run differently, they want more creative time, they want to expound on their previous job and how wonderful they did there, they are becoming afraid to ask questions of me (have I been biting their heads off, or just am snappy having little tolerance for stupidity). I emphasized that they must look at the computer screen as they scan barcodes, and make sure they are doing what they think they should. But they know everything about computers and it doesn't look cool to keep looking at work instead of holding a wonderful conversation. Another shot of patience, please.

They don't understand they have so much more to learn, one shouldn't spend time sitting when the boss spends his time on his feet, that fellow needs more time shelf reading and shelving. When they get a chair and abuse it, it becomes a throne and overthrowing Kings is part of my past I don't like dwelling on and hardly want to repeat. My work is cut back and I have only two more days to try and finish February well - which is only a personal goal, but it is one of the only man I respect almost completely -- me. I do know a bit too much about his dark(inner)side, still he doesn't have much faith in excuses performing to expectations.

There is one advantage in their slow work habits, they can't get ahead of me, even when they try they are falling behind the power curve - it is all mine. The experienced clerk and I laugh a lot about the new guys, but then we keep hoping tomorrow they will be a bit better and learn another lesson or two. We are making them earn that forty-two cents an hour, shouldn't I get some extra compensation, too? Another shot of that patience, please. All my rewards are waiting in Heaven, going to get stuck in the library there, too?