Tired out, and time to go to bed...

and I don't do half enough, I have to admire the rest of y'all, EnergizerBunnies all. Anyway, I have turned in my title for my Story on Saturday Night - really live. At the Antique Sandwich Company in Ruston, Wa. Oh, you wanted that linked, go Google it, I want you to show up and buy a five dollar ticket and enjoy good coffee, excellent strange local pies and such - and an evening of Storytelling. My story is "Hey, Old Timer" and it starts out all about me and then moves on to the important main character. Good seats at 7:00 PM.

I have to go shower, my wife's fine example of twenty minutes on the treadmill while I napped the supper away (difficult to keep my eyes open) made me go out and test the machine for forty minutes - yes, it can still bear my weight, the Country Music is more Rock than I like, but did enjoy the distraction from the blank wall in front of me... just me, the music and my mind... dangerous combination. Good night, y'all.

Monday Morning Blues...

Well, no Blues really. I did have to get up and move quickly enough to see the doctor at 8:30, his office. I did wheel my motorcycle out on an empty stomach and ride through McChord AFB with my best reflective vest on under my loaded backpack with reflective belt. The military knows how to protect people, they load one down with stuff, certification and lock up the ammunition so when the Mongol Hordes show up no one can shoot them before they ride over your arrowed pincushion of a body. Just pile the heads over there as a marker, thanks. I really don't care about wearing the vest, I like solid reflective tapes to call attention to me and my motorcycle in the darkness, but I do think I am smart enough to figure that out on my own - doesn't take a General. Probably the same guy that says concealed carry will not be honored on his post/base (The Commander).

I was a little early, but they opened the door and allowed me to ground my helmet, backpack, leather coat with reflective vest. Then I get weighed, blood pressure measured (don't ask way too high since pretty young women are messing with my body and my mind isn't on the motorcycle), blood drawn and doctor comes in to talk, measure, tap, listen and tell me what is good for me. Gentle manner and I now know that exercise will kill me one day, but good that I have been exercising or I would be dead - I have a load of medications to return to, another appointment in June after Hawaii. I go out and put the gear back on, knowing the other old men in the waiting room are just jealous that I am riding a motorcycle into the beautiful day and adventures. The drug store explains how much of my medications are covered by my two medical insurances - my wife has three and still one has a co-payment, sigh. Can't wait for universal care, or actually I can wait a long time. If they had universal forms and medical records keeping for the patients I might be convinced they cared.

I get an eight grain roll and black coffee at Starbucks as I wait for the pills to be piled. Then I ride off to find every Sunny Day Chrome Shining motorcyclist in the McNeil Island Department of Corrections has filled the motorcycle parking lot, lovely - it is good I was wearing sunglasses, the reflections are blinding. It is a better day for motorcycling than library work, but I park, walk to the dock, ride the ferry and see my supervisor, my inmate clerks and patrons and work on through the day, until the ride home in the evening. I have an anxious waiting by the open garage door wife (?) and I know I am not late, but have a great grin for the picture and knowing that dinner is waiting, Salmon and vegetables, hot coffee and Monday Night Raw where we find out who won what at WrestleMania 25, which I was too busy and too cheap to pay for a view.

I am so centered on myself this Monday, that except for worrying about brother traveling to Mom, Mom preparing to move to North Carolina, milk pick up in New York and the state of shooting sports in the United Kingdom (right up there with Henry the VIII's jousting, I believe) I have no idea how Barack has saved me from those evil folks in North Korea with their ICBM launchers. Time for my breakfast gruel and exercise that will kill me.

Don't nudge me ugly tonight...

Just got back from the hospital and read my mother's letter about how bad the world that is leaving her behind and alone is... and she is right the world is a terrible place - Mankind hasn't been evolved enough to become angels and is adapting his environment just enough to cleanse the rest of the lifeforms off the planet -- life just doesn't go the way it was supposed to, does it?

I am stuck in Hosea and keep coming back to the current world and a deep sigh is my only appropriate response - I can't change anything, Time magazine hasn't the guts to say the schools should teach moral behavior. Heavens, Time magazine hasn't had a moral position for a long time, just one that will sell magazines and ad space.
The current crisis isn't due to Disney, ABC nor Time magazine, how did we get to the point that anything that happened to a few was the problem of the remainder to fix and cure.

We haven't fixed the Drug Crisis, the Solitary Parent crisis, the Unwanted children crisis, the last crisis and the next crisis --- none of them have been solved, fixed - seems we lived through them, or didn't, if we lived we moved on to the next one.

I have changed and deleted about five paragraphs tonight and am spinning wheels and burning nothing... the Blues are banging out in the house tonight, nice that if I can't be positively creative I am not going to that terrible destructive person inside me... Good Night, and God bless.

Earl goes to the Gun Show in Puyallup...

Looking for Hispanic Gangsters buying weapons for the Drug War in Mexico. Didn't see any.

Looking for rifles that I just had to have. Didn't see any. Did see many that were beautiful, but they wouldn't be lonely for long, and I am still dancing with my own thank you.

Went looking for peace and quiet, but the Gun Show isn't the local library - large crowds of people packed like PETA wouldn't do to your beef still on hoof. Yes, I thought that mooing and horns would have worked. Met one of the Corrections Officers from McNeil Island and talked crowds, military shooting (1903 through M1) and reloading.

Didn't find any ATF agents in undercover clothes working the crowd for Obama - the things I don't see when I am looking. Did see lots of Pro Gun and Anti-Obama bumper stickers, didn't see any from American Hunters & Shooters Association - they didn't even have a table. The number of Friends of the NRA having dinners and raffles were as numerous as the counties of Western Washington - except I don't think I saw King County nor Seattle - but sometime I think there are only dead voters there and all the workers commute in daily - but I have been wrong before.

Did watch a gunsmith mounting a scope (I still haven't got one and am interested), did see some nice leatherwork for all the stuff I NEED (okay I don't need) but it was so good. Did think that for my motorcycle I could get a scabbard and a carbine - then thought about how that would work the next time Gravity grabs me, my bike and my inattention... nope. Gravity Rules! Still another day and a half to go.

You didn't make my day, did you???

Gosh, don't mess with the grumpy old guy in the corner.

Well, I should look like this, went to work and found no supervisor, no computer internet access, no outgoing telephone service - so I was back in the days of card catalog, typewriter and stubby pencils. Amazing how bound to technology I am, sigh, all because (RUMOR ALERT!) because an inmate hacker got on a computer that his supervisor wasn't watching closely enough. He is now in the Hole and if I knew his name he would never get anymore library support, but I won't ask his name - just send him all the oldest programming books I can find.... not really, his being a dangerous fool is too close to my own affliction - we could be cousins, but I don't play with computers.

My personal problems are growing but my praying is getting louder and more often so I think it will work.

When I was young...

I had too much money and so I purchased three rifles from Winchester of Hong Kong, didn't everyone? My father asked why my Model 70 was in 30-06 and my only answer was that I thought that was a good round (I had no real idea, but I knew that one worked for deer and Pennsylvania). Since I declared today a rest day from exercising I took the rifles out and looked at the Model 70 for scope mounting, and decided not to... cause I have no knowledge about scopes and the rifle as it stands now is pure beauty. I must be the right size, cause all my rifles fit me so well, or I fit them well, another day it is good to be me. Funny that I like all my rifles, want to really be perfect with the M1 Garand, but love the beauty and perfection of the Model 70. Maybe I could get both of them National Match sights... sure.

Pay the bills, file the tax form, photo drop....

Busy? Not me, just hanging on, just keeping on, got to go, don't cha know?

Snow Cat visited.

Rain keeps beating on my roof...

This is the New Year and the rain drums on the roof, into the gutters where it growls as it speeds to the ground to feed the moss - Washington State is Evergreen for a reason. I am having happy dreams and the bedding is warm and wrapping - I don't want to open my eyes but my wife is already up, she has plans for today and I am part of them. I get up, good morning, world! No answer - the world is in shock or just ignoring me again.

Stumble and stagger to find the clothing and some coffee - I once laughed at Tim Conway's shuffling old man routine - now I am one, sigh. Today, the Fort Steilacoom Running Club is starting the Resolution Run Series, I have not the resolution and haven't entered. I can't afford not to jog this year, the last couple months have been terrible, I will lace up some shoes and hit the road today. My morning is starting with Tacoma First Baptist Church, welcoming the New Year and asking for blessings. I don't need any but will ask for those that do. I didn't stay up last night to ring in the New Year, like most years here in the Northwest the major networks tried to pretend at ten o'clock they were going to give us Time Square celebrations LIVE! If they had I could have gone to bed at nine-thirty, we get the leftovers from the East Coast (center of the known New York-Washington DC universe) and sometimes Alaska and Canada (weather patterns they want to share, sigh) - and I like to eat leftovers but don't want to live them...

After getting blest and my wife giving everyone a Happy New Year wish, I accepted and returned a few myself (how did I get so anti-social?) quick.. extend the hand and smile pleasantly. We returned home through quiet streets and rain, light but wet, rain. At home there are emailed pictures of the newest Great-grandson of my mother. Mother father and baby all look fine - ah, they are in Florida and that is fine.
The Rose Parade really looked great in High Definition on our Sony - but commercials drove me to sleep. Outlawing recliners is next on the list of things the BETTER LIFE police will be enforcing... but I am not paying attention yet.

More distractions, someone calls to invite us to dinner at their home - my wife accepts and I am now committed. As long as they don't think I will become a Baptist we can have a pleasant afternoon - but they always seem to think I am easily swayed - and if they don't bring a long legged red head with brains and a great heart - they haven't a chance. Yes, I will behave and this will be twice in one day supporting my wife's life - then I can retreat back into the computer cave, motorcycling or shooting pointedly. One day I will be a better man, I am really going for the piece of my wife's pumpkin pie. The roast she made today will wait for our return, and I did say I liked to eat leftovers.

Thinking while in church this morning and about the whole thing of the New Year - the customs the traditions the fireworks, the out with the old and in with the new stuff... well, as I look at it we are so small and self-centered in our time and life - that we miss the fact that God is only on His Eighth Day of Creation. Probably doesn't need my help either.

One issue people, arise and think.... it matters

Okay, one issue people - the 2nd Amendment - not enough effective thought and philosophy to make the correction in the American culture's thinking about the issue.

Congress and the Executive branch abandoned the 'well regulated militia' pretending that the National Guard is the militia and telling everyone that the National Guard has been around longer than our Constitution (no it hasn't, concerned armed citizens that banded together in defense of their homes, religion, politics and rights have been around over three hundred years - calling them something else doesn't make it so). Once the government does change their portion of the Amendment - they then feel free to change the People's part of the Amendment.

Revolution, or armed insurrection isn't the solution to the infringement of the Amendment - that becomes the danger to the security of a free State. Also one of the Gun Lobby's favorite reasons for weapons - self defense makes the sheep in our world (where everyone can just get along) afraid. I am sticking with the reason that I shoot is that I am a law abiding citizen, fully capable of using dangerous weapons with safety, and I don't need a government to shove me into Depends or Pampers to keep me from soiling myself daily.

So, since I know how to use machine guns, automatic weapons, submachine guns, rifles, pistols, explosives and other such - like I know how to find the proper place and time to defecate so as not to upset the public nor my friends and family - I don't need the regulations, laws and infringement on my rights to be armed and dangerous. I also don't advocate destruction of my community, government nor world to make it my way - but then I do think there are more good people in the world than bad - but the bad ones tell lies, cheat and dishonor their ancestors for personal gain and general stupidity. I remain, armed and dangerous, but then that is all in my mind and not in yours, you never think about me - just the old man in the back of the room. Thanks.

I am a cabbage,

I went to church after watching CBS Sunday Morning - it was on but I wasn't. Practiced with the choir and looked at the pictures and displays for the 100 year Anniversary of the Spanaway Methodist Church, which had a circuit riding preacher for many of those years. After eating I decided that two miles to church wasn't half the fun of fifty miles going back home, not even one twenty-fifth of the fun. I pretended I had power and muscles and a girl friend waiting - the truth was more like the Trusty Triumph had power, and I went along and enjoyed the sunlight and cool, my wife would be many more hours later coming home. Lots of flashing inverted V's from other riders, save the bad dudes with bad attitudes - must have been ridin' Harleys. I get home eat a snack and fall asleep watching one network coverage of a Seahawk football game and wake to the Goodfather, and fall asleep and find myself watching the Sunday Night Football game - I have become a cabbage in the lazyboy recliner. Some one must have set me on 'day of rest' cause I have.

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...

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.

Old Dogs and new Tricks...

My program manager sent a new master time sheet for keeping the records of the hours we are open and instructions, along with a sample that she doesn't really want me to follow exactly but close. So I try to save a copy of the master with the new title, and the computer tells me that the form is protected unless I have the password to modify it. Ah, I don't have the password, and when I report to the person that sent the form I can't use I get silence. It doesn't matter, if I can't do my job because I don't have the essentials then I do the best I can after I notify the boss. I started one that I could modify, but not based on the one she insisted.

I also find that I no longer have motorcycle insurance, and I was sure I paid that online two weeks ago with my credit card. When I check the insurer has no such record but I am talking to a computer which sounds pretty smart, but wasn't that the same computer that I paid? I check the credit card company and get a live person (hurrah!) and find no record of the payment I thought I had made, must have only happened in my dreams. Okay, today I go find a real person and buy real motorcycle insurance this morning. I will pay by check and then go visit my Credit Union to record the new insurance, before the State comes after my tags. Real money and real people are so much better than this virtual stuff sent across the cyberspace. But I was already moving away from trusting the computers to be friendly to me, locked me out of my online service - for my own protection, from me and my old man mistakes.

I have often said things about not carrying a pistol since my life has been mostly fightin' free. But my wife went to her child care duties yesterday and found the parents of one of her favorite babies (they all become favorites quickly), murdered - some left over romantic possessive jealousy rotted into death for the betterment of the stupid murderous person... and it isn't going to get better, but the baby is lucky in that she is too young to remember the missing parents. Not enough hand to hand fighting going on? Would have been better for all involved if they had just punched and kicked on each other until they got tired and then gone and washed up. It didn't happen that way and I don't get all I ever wanted anyway. I had best go learn those new tricks before the computer messes me up some more.