The second floor is clear, or at least, currently. I begin my trek to the stairwell and I hear a door close, above me, and perhaps near the center rear of the building. I will save that area for last. I look at the map, take my bearings, then go. The first three places are empty. As I approach the fourth, I realize someone is inside the place. Perhaps several people from the sounds of things. I cannot tell what they are doing, though they sound rather active. I move cautiously to the door, check for light under the door, none noted, and listen for voices or a more definite idea of what is happening inside.
Boxes are being moved from one of the side rooms to the main and entrance room, then they are being stacked. They do not sound very heavy, and the workers do not sound very large. Bothersome, they must have some light or, like me, goggles. A candle in the off room might not be bright enough for me to detect yet be bright enough to enable their effort. *slam* I believe that door I heard earlier closes and footsteps approach. I back away, back down the hall and around a corner. I thought about using my mirror, but that might reflect too much in this situation. I listen, and as I had hoped, the footfalls end at the door I had been eavesdropping. A jingle as keys are brought out and searched, as I hear the key inserted into the lock, I peel my goggles back and take a peak around the corner. A slightly larger than average man, with a candle in a jug, is entering the room, then gone. I hear work in the room end, and voices. I edge closer to try and make out what is being said. A little closer, closer, there…
“… yesterday. Didn’t James already tell you that?”, a man’s voice speaks. “Yes, but it wasn’t possible” says a woman’s voice. “We can only do so much. You tell James he either needs to send others to help, or he will just have to be patient”. Then something I can’t quite make out, and the door handle turns and the door opens quickly. I begin scooting backwards, when the man’s exit is arrested by a young, probably late teen, male voice, “Where is Jane? I thought she was supposed to visit and bring a few supplies?”. A long pause ensues as the man slowly turns to face the boy. I get around the corner, then to the next door, which I unlock with the master’s key, just in case. I return to the corner just as the man begins to speak, I can now hear well with the door open. “Jane was shot. Hold on, hold on, Tim. We think she will be fine. We are doing what we can for her, but she is weak and will not be up and about for a few weeks perhaps. She tried to find some spices at the grocery store on 5th, in spite of being warned off. I will send someone over to replace you tonight so that you can go see her”. Tim is irate, “And, when exactly where you going to tell me!” he shouts. The woman comes forward and everyone does their little part in the drama until the boy is calmed enough to let it go and the man is done. He exits, shuts the door, locks it, and leaves the way he came.
Decisions. Did I ever mention the fact that I really do not like making them? They all seem faked, even if one uses his best effort, searches for the best information, studies math and science so as to define the parameters in such a way that the decision should be the best, well, it just is what it is. Yes, guessing would be the best term. I think it is just called a decision because it seems more empowering, noble, or suggestive of leadership. I do not need power, I am not noble, and I am alone, I think I will call it guessing for myself. Great, procrastination through definition. Hey, actually, I like that. Still, back to guessing before I begin pondering some other foolish intricacy.
Well, he locked the door when he left, so I am guessing, the people in the room are not going anywhere. Not that they could not unlock the door, only that the actions seem contrary. No one up here is being quiet, particularly, so either they are or feel secure… weapons? devices? guards? the cat? *laughs* I suppose the cat could be a guard of sorts. I had best be paying attention here. I move toward the now shut and locked apartment door and quietly move past, looking closely at the walls and floor ahead of me. I can hear the noises of work as I near then pass the door. No work stoppage on my account, so I continue on. I have a decent idea of where the man is heading, and since I am following, I should be able to pinpoint the place with my map and the sound added to my current knowledge gained from working this floor so far. *slam* Yes, I look at the map and I believe I have it. I had best be careful here though.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Friday, July 13, 2007
The Jedi master commences to show his self mastery by 'simulating' crying like a baby.
Sleep would be good. After being up a day and a half, I finally went down like I should at somewhere after 19:00 but before 21:00. I then woke about 23:30. Oddly, I have a rare case of heartburn. As well, I feel all slept out. My systems are sluggish, but they are not sleep ready. I am guessing a sleep medication would be best. I just hate taking that stuff.
I have not been writing more on my story, but I do have a little bit left in reserve. I’ll be setting a portion out shortly. Focus just was not there earlier. Sorry about that. I have noticed that I am not alone in this, news and blogging have dried up. The heat, summer time blues, the high humidity doldrums, or what ever has taken it’s toll on traffic.
However, this slow up has given me time for reflection. The more I blog on my site and visit and comment on other sites, the more I realize I have a whole lot of nothing to say. Nothing I work hard at saying comes out meaning anything more that mundane obvious nothingness. There is no wisdom, no intricate intelligent offering, no literary technical genius. I am just happy when reading it later I do not seem too much of a fool, too emotional, or make too many errors regarding my English usage. Some of the earlier posts make me wonder if people think I should just be given a large dose of something, head gear, and locked in a padded room until I die or the world devolves to the secular liberalism that is Hitler, Stalin, and Hillary and just honestly euthanizes me. In a secular world, actually, that is correct.
I hope my writing and logic have improved. I cannot see it, honestly. I am working on a piece for this page, but it is not going to be a 10 minute write like the others. I am actually putting time and thought into it, when I can muster it. And yet, I have little hope that this piece will be anything greater than the rest. Oh, fewer errors, better cohesion, but there is much more to a truly good essay. There is a truth and a brilliance that catches one’s notice like that fine rare meal one awaits in hunger. I do not even think the reader needs to be brilliant, only relatively keen on English and awake. See, no matter how I twist, turn, push, and pull on those bits of logic, grammar, and vocabulary, it does not work. It is enjoyable, if frustrating.
What brought this up was a couple of comments I recently posted. One of these took me a long time to create. Now, it was today or last night, and in my over-exhaustive state, but upon reading it later, I could not believe it. It looked like I let a ten year old write it, if I might have edited a bit. *sigh* I can only wonder what people think when they read there or here. As I said, I have an idea of what they might suggest. I do not know how to deal with this, I guess, is where I am finally getting.
I really enjoy writing. And yet, I do not care to be shamed by my inability, perhaps my disability, at times. I enjoy reading peoples work, and commenting. Yet I so often hurt feelings, say too much, say it so blandly, plainly, or simply that it ends up meaning nothing, i.e. Oh, your lawn is overgrown? Maybe you could mow it. Bingo, I think someone is on the ball, eh? Stepping on toes, squashing the daisies, speaking in the plain terms of the simpleton, and really having nothing more to offer than my company seems to be unsettling to me. As I said, I am just not sure where to go with it. I guess, as others, I will have to tame my passions in this arena, dull my senses, and just create my own psychic thorazine.
I have not been writing more on my story, but I do have a little bit left in reserve. I’ll be setting a portion out shortly. Focus just was not there earlier. Sorry about that. I have noticed that I am not alone in this, news and blogging have dried up. The heat, summer time blues, the high humidity doldrums, or what ever has taken it’s toll on traffic.
However, this slow up has given me time for reflection. The more I blog on my site and visit and comment on other sites, the more I realize I have a whole lot of nothing to say. Nothing I work hard at saying comes out meaning anything more that mundane obvious nothingness. There is no wisdom, no intricate intelligent offering, no literary technical genius. I am just happy when reading it later I do not seem too much of a fool, too emotional, or make too many errors regarding my English usage. Some of the earlier posts make me wonder if people think I should just be given a large dose of something, head gear, and locked in a padded room until I die or the world devolves to the secular liberalism that is Hitler, Stalin, and Hillary and just honestly euthanizes me. In a secular world, actually, that is correct.
I hope my writing and logic have improved. I cannot see it, honestly. I am working on a piece for this page, but it is not going to be a 10 minute write like the others. I am actually putting time and thought into it, when I can muster it. And yet, I have little hope that this piece will be anything greater than the rest. Oh, fewer errors, better cohesion, but there is much more to a truly good essay. There is a truth and a brilliance that catches one’s notice like that fine rare meal one awaits in hunger. I do not even think the reader needs to be brilliant, only relatively keen on English and awake. See, no matter how I twist, turn, push, and pull on those bits of logic, grammar, and vocabulary, it does not work. It is enjoyable, if frustrating.
What brought this up was a couple of comments I recently posted. One of these took me a long time to create. Now, it was today or last night, and in my over-exhaustive state, but upon reading it later, I could not believe it. It looked like I let a ten year old write it, if I might have edited a bit. *sigh* I can only wonder what people think when they read there or here. As I said, I have an idea of what they might suggest. I do not know how to deal with this, I guess, is where I am finally getting.
I really enjoy writing. And yet, I do not care to be shamed by my inability, perhaps my disability, at times. I enjoy reading peoples work, and commenting. Yet I so often hurt feelings, say too much, say it so blandly, plainly, or simply that it ends up meaning nothing, i.e. Oh, your lawn is overgrown? Maybe you could mow it. Bingo, I think someone is on the ball, eh? Stepping on toes, squashing the daisies, speaking in the plain terms of the simpleton, and really having nothing more to offer than my company seems to be unsettling to me. As I said, I am just not sure where to go with it. I guess, as others, I will have to tame my passions in this arena, dull my senses, and just create my own psychic thorazine.
Is it bedtime yet?
I think this guy knows how I feel, or is it vice versa, this morning. Though we both seem to be in pretty good condition, for the condition we are in. I could not sleep last night, and may not be able to sleep for a while. Since I am up, it would be good to just try and stay up as long as I am able. I did not do much last night, tinkering on the computer, looking at this, reading that, going there, and getting nothing done. I was unable to write, and did not even put up parts of the story I have written and edited. It was a waste of awake time. Hmm, not sure what is going on.
I know I am putting together an essay which will be controversial. Perhaps the thoughts whirling around those issues are like bees in my breeches. Or perhaps just the writing process itself, choosing the right words, deciding how to express my thoughts most poignantly, making sure the essay, from whole to paragraph to sentence to clause makes sense, is connected within and without those structures, and concludes simply. Staying on track seems to be difficult for me. Oh, did you see that? I can be writing and then, it is 9:25 here and now, be distracted by, Rocky sure was hungry, I am surprised those last three fish are still alive, whatever passes before my eyes, into my ears, activates my other sensory receptors, or even non-sensory events such as premonitions, emotions, or metabolic changes. Ah yes, the patch is troubling. I have nothing to chew or smoke, and that is a part of it. Now would be a good time to nail my foot to the floor. What was that about, should your hand lead you to sin, better to lop it off and barbeque it rather than smoke forever? Well, you know what I mean.
I tried to call Tiger Lily, but her phone is shut off. I hope she is getting sleep, by my suspicion says not. She is probably off working in her rich friend’s yard. Pulling invasive species. I haven’t yet asked if she will get to the Mexicans next, or if she is still too busy with Europeans. I think it would be lost on her, and she would then just think I hate Mexicans. Well, yes and no, the people could be fine but the action is not. Their illegal nature makes like or dislike irrelevant. Half of my adopted family IS Mexican, legally born here, some here before Europeans. My birth parents were a little under half native American. As such, if she wants to be technical in her libcrat way, I want her AND the Mexicans out. Conservative European descendents can stay though. Well, conservative Christian Europeans can stay. They produce more than hot air and theories about it. Or, their hot air productions end in toys, foods, and neat stuff. Or, their hot air does not come with bad breath, drug dulled minds, and a death wish they would like to share with all others. Similar with the Mexicans, if they are functionally productive, ask to enter and receive that grant, and do not commit crimes, cool. The rest must go back to the socialism that spawned them and their nature, and their desire to come here. Let them fix their problems in their own land rather than bringing them here and helping to expand our similar problem until we are just another Mexico. Did you realize they have the same per capita GDP as we do? I do not care if Vox Day says there is no real basis for GDP as a functional gauge of the economy, I say otherwise. It may be an imperfect tool, it’s only a four pound hammer where a ten pound sledge might be better, but it’ll do in enough cases for my purposes.
Vox, invoking your name will possibly catch your eye (wreathed in flame, is it?). If you happen to pop in, and I have misunderstood, correct me here at your leisure. I would rather not be a “sample” on your site, however, as I’m not really making a play for points, hits, or such. See Daddy, not tip jar, advert space (for my profit), or anything. You are just well enough know among my few readers to be a target. If you happen to stop in to check the fuss. Hello. And, you are still wrong about that.
Oh, right, distractions. Love them. I think a truck went by, then a car in the other direction, both to the east, the car heading north. Then, hmmm, I think that must be a work vehicle beeping as it backs up in the swamp to my west, as trash pick up day there is Monday, and soda delivery for their machines happened only a few days ago. It is even worse when the windows are open and the ac is not on.
Oh, I am expecting Tiger Lily. I do not know why. Since I cannot get ahold of her, I cannot be sure. Though I do not think she wishes to do the favor, I know she needs certain things here, including her laundry and the turkey. She is being odd. Maybe she realizes nothing really will ever be there between us, that I cannot even see her that way anymore in truth. Maybe as I am becoming functional, active, and thinning, something is happening in her machine. Maybe I am just realizing she has always actually hated me and been trying to cause my fall and only comes by to try and hurt me, get what she can for free, and be the real (and as always liberal) Ugly American. Anyway, she has been weird. Then again, maybe she has found my blog and read something in there she cannot talk about, either because it is too true or because she sees it as so incorrect nothing can be done for it.. How would I really know what a cat thinks anyway? I think I understood my feline cat better than this feminine one.
Sleep deprivation is a wonderful thing and a pain. It is to psychic wanderings what dusk is to shadows, it is an amplifier. Shadows are significant to ghosts, and sometimes, deep enough in them, I am unsure if shadows are all I have or more, all that I am. Does any of that make any sense whatsoever? Then again, what are you but a more or less distinct shadow, here, now?
I did not do dishes, I will not be doing bread, I am not sure what I will be doing. Too tired to go anywhere, do much, concentrate, and yet I cannot sleep. It took me fours hours to finally push this out of my mind. ugh
I know I am putting together an essay which will be controversial. Perhaps the thoughts whirling around those issues are like bees in my breeches. Or perhaps just the writing process itself, choosing the right words, deciding how to express my thoughts most poignantly, making sure the essay, from whole to paragraph to sentence to clause makes sense, is connected within and without those structures, and concludes simply. Staying on track seems to be difficult for me. Oh, did you see that? I can be writing and then, it is 9:25 here and now, be distracted by, Rocky sure was hungry, I am surprised those last three fish are still alive, whatever passes before my eyes, into my ears, activates my other sensory receptors, or even non-sensory events such as premonitions, emotions, or metabolic changes. Ah yes, the patch is troubling. I have nothing to chew or smoke, and that is a part of it. Now would be a good time to nail my foot to the floor. What was that about, should your hand lead you to sin, better to lop it off and barbeque it rather than smoke forever? Well, you know what I mean.
I tried to call Tiger Lily, but her phone is shut off. I hope she is getting sleep, by my suspicion says not. She is probably off working in her rich friend’s yard. Pulling invasive species. I haven’t yet asked if she will get to the Mexicans next, or if she is still too busy with Europeans. I think it would be lost on her, and she would then just think I hate Mexicans. Well, yes and no, the people could be fine but the action is not. Their illegal nature makes like or dislike irrelevant. Half of my adopted family IS Mexican, legally born here, some here before Europeans. My birth parents were a little under half native American. As such, if she wants to be technical in her libcrat way, I want her AND the Mexicans out. Conservative European descendents can stay though. Well, conservative Christian Europeans can stay. They produce more than hot air and theories about it. Or, their hot air productions end in toys, foods, and neat stuff. Or, their hot air does not come with bad breath, drug dulled minds, and a death wish they would like to share with all others. Similar with the Mexicans, if they are functionally productive, ask to enter and receive that grant, and do not commit crimes, cool. The rest must go back to the socialism that spawned them and their nature, and their desire to come here. Let them fix their problems in their own land rather than bringing them here and helping to expand our similar problem until we are just another Mexico. Did you realize they have the same per capita GDP as we do? I do not care if Vox Day says there is no real basis for GDP as a functional gauge of the economy, I say otherwise. It may be an imperfect tool, it’s only a four pound hammer where a ten pound sledge might be better, but it’ll do in enough cases for my purposes.
Vox, invoking your name will possibly catch your eye (wreathed in flame, is it?). If you happen to pop in, and I have misunderstood, correct me here at your leisure. I would rather not be a “sample” on your site, however, as I’m not really making a play for points, hits, or such. See Daddy, not tip jar, advert space (for my profit), or anything. You are just well enough know among my few readers to be a target. If you happen to stop in to check the fuss. Hello. And, you are still wrong about that.
Oh, right, distractions. Love them. I think a truck went by, then a car in the other direction, both to the east, the car heading north. Then, hmmm, I think that must be a work vehicle beeping as it backs up in the swamp to my west, as trash pick up day there is Monday, and soda delivery for their machines happened only a few days ago. It is even worse when the windows are open and the ac is not on.
Oh, I am expecting Tiger Lily. I do not know why. Since I cannot get ahold of her, I cannot be sure. Though I do not think she wishes to do the favor, I know she needs certain things here, including her laundry and the turkey. She is being odd. Maybe she realizes nothing really will ever be there between us, that I cannot even see her that way anymore in truth. Maybe as I am becoming functional, active, and thinning, something is happening in her machine. Maybe I am just realizing she has always actually hated me and been trying to cause my fall and only comes by to try and hurt me, get what she can for free, and be the real (and as always liberal) Ugly American. Anyway, she has been weird. Then again, maybe she has found my blog and read something in there she cannot talk about, either because it is too true or because she sees it as so incorrect nothing can be done for it.. How would I really know what a cat thinks anyway? I think I understood my feline cat better than this feminine one.
Sleep deprivation is a wonderful thing and a pain. It is to psychic wanderings what dusk is to shadows, it is an amplifier. Shadows are significant to ghosts, and sometimes, deep enough in them, I am unsure if shadows are all I have or more, all that I am. Does any of that make any sense whatsoever? Then again, what are you but a more or less distinct shadow, here, now?
I did not do dishes, I will not be doing bread, I am not sure what I will be doing. Too tired to go anywhere, do much, concentrate, and yet I cannot sleep. It took me fours hours to finally push this out of my mind. ugh
Thursday, July 12, 2007
A day half done, a man well pleased. I might even deserve a Snicker's bar.
I visited the neighbors today. I had seen them, all of them, return. Mom and the new baby have been away for several days, and Dad has been scarce. I let them settle in for a bit, then grabbed a couple of loaves and out I went. She looks a great deal better. I could see the toll of carrying and intermittent labor events coupled with an inability to sleep had been having on her prior to delivery, and for a couple of weeks I should think. She looks rested and relaxed, though I am sure she is not full up to speed, and with the care and feeding, they are not going to be settled for a bit. He had just put the little one to rest, so I did not get to meet my newest neighbor. In time. Oh, he suggest we might get to fishing this coming Monday. The older young ones need to get out of the house, where they have been bound for a while, and I think Mom would like a little peace and quiet. hehehe Yep, it works.
During my visit, I had discussed some of things I have been doing and have planned. And it occurred to me that it had been some time since I had been to the path. So, I suggested I might do that today. He wants to see that area too. I suggested if he or he and the boys go along, that swim trunks might not be a bad plan. I do not know if that will work out, but it would be good. I really want to figure out how to do a swim after my hikes, securely, singularly, though. I sort of think the wife will be asking him to get out more, now that she has delivered, with the boys. Fishing and target practice should be starting back up a bit more.
Good to my word, I grabbed a few things, some of which will now be permanent pieces for my vehicle; a dry bag with several sets of clothes, a pair of dry boots, a towel, and some other things, a couple of blankets, and though they are not there yet, a couple of old pillows which I need to find old pillow cases for before putting in the machine. I should also begin a search for a water container for out there too. It will get hot, but when you are thirsty, and it is dirty suspect water or warmish sure water, that choice is easy. Yes, I am rigging the machine to be an all week’er, or more. In time, it will be.
My lady friend was busy with major laundry, the type that requires front load machines, so she was at the Laundromat today. I had hoped she would stop by, but then I was not exactly well and truly awake, and she was busy. I am hoping she will stop tomorrow. She has laundry here to take home, turkey parted out for her, and I have asked for a minor favor. We will see, but I really do hope she arrives soon.
Yes, ok, I probably will get the kitchen back in order today. I liked that bread so much, I want to make another batch, maybe two, in the next few days. I would like to be able to bake two for the new neighbors, delivering it when they are moved in and while the bread is still warm. So, it behooves me to get going on that. I think I will hold off on playing with the Dyna-Flex for a few days, however. It was all fun and games, but I am getting a bit too sore, I believe. No serious pain, just some limits and crankiness in needed muscles. And, I will probably get back to writing again. I had written part of the story ahead, in a flow that was incredible. I probably wrote five or six pages in a few hours at most. I thought about going on, as it was just working, but the hour had grown late and I had only intended to attempt to edit some things. Beautiful, now if I could get it to work when I want it to. Ha, every writer, great or small, probably wishes that. I think I will grab a turkey drumstick, a glass of iced tea, and something else I have not yet decided.
Oh, no more pipe. I smoked the last of it last eve, and am back on the patch. Trust me, I searched high and low for one more puff. The patch is working, though I am a bit fidgety. That is good, up to a point. So far, so good, as far as that goes.
During my visit, I had discussed some of things I have been doing and have planned. And it occurred to me that it had been some time since I had been to the path. So, I suggested I might do that today. He wants to see that area too. I suggested if he or he and the boys go along, that swim trunks might not be a bad plan. I do not know if that will work out, but it would be good. I really want to figure out how to do a swim after my hikes, securely, singularly, though. I sort of think the wife will be asking him to get out more, now that she has delivered, with the boys. Fishing and target practice should be starting back up a bit more.
Good to my word, I grabbed a few things, some of which will now be permanent pieces for my vehicle; a dry bag with several sets of clothes, a pair of dry boots, a towel, and some other things, a couple of blankets, and though they are not there yet, a couple of old pillows which I need to find old pillow cases for before putting in the machine. I should also begin a search for a water container for out there too. It will get hot, but when you are thirsty, and it is dirty suspect water or warmish sure water, that choice is easy. Yes, I am rigging the machine to be an all week’er, or more. In time, it will be.
My lady friend was busy with major laundry, the type that requires front load machines, so she was at the Laundromat today. I had hoped she would stop by, but then I was not exactly well and truly awake, and she was busy. I am hoping she will stop tomorrow. She has laundry here to take home, turkey parted out for her, and I have asked for a minor favor. We will see, but I really do hope she arrives soon.
Yes, ok, I probably will get the kitchen back in order today. I liked that bread so much, I want to make another batch, maybe two, in the next few days. I would like to be able to bake two for the new neighbors, delivering it when they are moved in and while the bread is still warm. So, it behooves me to get going on that. I think I will hold off on playing with the Dyna-Flex for a few days, however. It was all fun and games, but I am getting a bit too sore, I believe. No serious pain, just some limits and crankiness in needed muscles. And, I will probably get back to writing again. I had written part of the story ahead, in a flow that was incredible. I probably wrote five or six pages in a few hours at most. I thought about going on, as it was just working, but the hour had grown late and I had only intended to attempt to edit some things. Beautiful, now if I could get it to work when I want it to. Ha, every writer, great or small, probably wishes that. I think I will grab a turkey drumstick, a glass of iced tea, and something else I have not yet decided.
Oh, no more pipe. I smoked the last of it last eve, and am back on the patch. Trust me, I searched high and low for one more puff. The patch is working, though I am a bit fidgety. That is good, up to a point. So far, so good, as far as that goes.
It will be a slow day, it seems.
I awoke a bit late, not until 10:30 the first time, and then probably because of a phone call. My friend must have just noticed that I called, but it was from last night when her phone was off. I’ve noticed my phone is problematic lately too, so I am going to have to track down the number we need to dial to update our phone’s software. Blasted things, still they have their points.
After that little excursion into awake land, I retreated back to dreamscape. I am just rising for the day at 14:30. It is not a grand start or a fast start, either. I did a good deal yesterday, barely having time to put out the posts I did and the responses on other blogs. I certainly felt rushed and under the gun most of the day. Listening to Marty Robins all day probably did not help that last.
I am unsure about my plans today. The dishes sit where they lay and I have no interest in that situation presently, though that may change. I still would like to get to mowing later in the evening, the eastern neighbors might be moving some stuff today, my southern neighbors need to be contacted. College could be investigated. I just do not know for sure what will get done and what I would like to do.
After that little excursion into awake land, I retreated back to dreamscape. I am just rising for the day at 14:30. It is not a grand start or a fast start, either. I did a good deal yesterday, barely having time to put out the posts I did and the responses on other blogs. I certainly felt rushed and under the gun most of the day. Listening to Marty Robins all day probably did not help that last.
I am unsure about my plans today. The dishes sit where they lay and I have no interest in that situation presently, though that may change. I still would like to get to mowing later in the evening, the eastern neighbors might be moving some stuff today, my southern neighbors need to be contacted. College could be investigated. I just do not know for sure what will get done and what I would like to do.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
The Thought Traveler: A Tale of Mischief, Wonder, and Woe. Part VI
At the top of these stairs, Isabelle sneaks up behind me on the stairs, then passes me and heads on up to the third floor. I have gotten used to her, and she rarely sneaks up on me now. She is a part of the place, one that I know. I listen closely as I begin my circuit. No sound or irregularity disturb my work through the first six places. I enter the second to the last on this floor, and begin my usual room check. In the second room I freeze, I see something unusual. I cannot make it out. I cannot tell if this is a person in a blanket like robe, an item that is covered, or something else. It did not move when I opened the door nor is there a sound.
I go into a comfortable squat, quietly easy my pistol to the ready, and watch. After a half hour, I decide I must do something. But what, speak, approach, or use another item to test or manipulate what I am seeing? I creep a little closer and a bit to the left, hoping to find a better angle with which to see more clearly what is before me. The mysterious item moves!
The top most part of it turns in my direction, and a night blind faces looks toward me, eyes wide in fear, in a place which would be hidden if not for the goggles. “Do not hurt me.” “Please.” She does not appear to be more than in her late teens or early twenties. I assure her of my intent. I ask if she will answer some question. “Yes.” Who are you, my name is Jeff I say. “Uhm, I am Cindy”. Are there others here, others you know of or work with? “No. Well, there are others, but I do not know them. I just hear them from time to time. I stay hidden here.” What are you doing for food? “Oh, I stocked up shortly before everyone else left. And, I had a key to a friends apartment. I do not know what happened to her, but her food was there and I brought that here as well. I am running out though.” I explain that I am scavenging myself, as the stores have become too dangerous to plunder. I suggest we might be able to work together. I then ask why she did not leave, herself. “My car was stolen, and I did not know what else to do. As you probably know, the phones do not work, and the few times I have tried the radio, I have found nothing but static.” Yes, trapped. Though I am not sure that is the most accurate, I could leave but I am not sure there is anywhere to go. I certainly will not let her know, however.
I let her know she is free to go or stay. She now knows I have the keys, so if she decides not to trust me, when I leave it might be a good time to exit the building and find her own way to another secure location, or take her chances attempting to do so. She indicates she will stay, so I suggest she lock the door behind me anyway. Since we do not know who the others are, maybe she has only been kept safe because her door has been locked and they did not have the keys. If it is I who am returning with the keys, I will tap three times, pause, and tap three more times, before unlocking the door. Use the chain as well. If this is not done by someone attempting to unlock the door, be over by the fire escape and take it, quietly, closing the window behind you if you can. You will be on your own in that case. It will mean whoever else here is aggressive and has overpowered me.
I leave the woman behind and begin my search. She is only sure they are on this or the floor above, none on the first floor, so I begin searching each apartment, rather than just the select that had been on my list, and carefully. This is now tight work. Having a potential dependent does not sit well with me either. I could always just unlock her door without tapping. No, I guess that just is not how I do things. If she does not work as a helper, however, I do not feel obliged to care for her beyond a little food, a wave, and a “Good luck”.
I go into a comfortable squat, quietly easy my pistol to the ready, and watch. After a half hour, I decide I must do something. But what, speak, approach, or use another item to test or manipulate what I am seeing? I creep a little closer and a bit to the left, hoping to find a better angle with which to see more clearly what is before me. The mysterious item moves!
The top most part of it turns in my direction, and a night blind faces looks toward me, eyes wide in fear, in a place which would be hidden if not for the goggles. “Do not hurt me.” “Please.” She does not appear to be more than in her late teens or early twenties. I assure her of my intent. I ask if she will answer some question. “Yes.” Who are you, my name is Jeff I say. “Uhm, I am Cindy”. Are there others here, others you know of or work with? “No. Well, there are others, but I do not know them. I just hear them from time to time. I stay hidden here.” What are you doing for food? “Oh, I stocked up shortly before everyone else left. And, I had a key to a friends apartment. I do not know what happened to her, but her food was there and I brought that here as well. I am running out though.” I explain that I am scavenging myself, as the stores have become too dangerous to plunder. I suggest we might be able to work together. I then ask why she did not leave, herself. “My car was stolen, and I did not know what else to do. As you probably know, the phones do not work, and the few times I have tried the radio, I have found nothing but static.” Yes, trapped. Though I am not sure that is the most accurate, I could leave but I am not sure there is anywhere to go. I certainly will not let her know, however.
I let her know she is free to go or stay. She now knows I have the keys, so if she decides not to trust me, when I leave it might be a good time to exit the building and find her own way to another secure location, or take her chances attempting to do so. She indicates she will stay, so I suggest she lock the door behind me anyway. Since we do not know who the others are, maybe she has only been kept safe because her door has been locked and they did not have the keys. If it is I who am returning with the keys, I will tap three times, pause, and tap three more times, before unlocking the door. Use the chain as well. If this is not done by someone attempting to unlock the door, be over by the fire escape and take it, quietly, closing the window behind you if you can. You will be on your own in that case. It will mean whoever else here is aggressive and has overpowered me.
I leave the woman behind and begin my search. She is only sure they are on this or the floor above, none on the first floor, so I begin searching each apartment, rather than just the select that had been on my list, and carefully. This is now tight work. Having a potential dependent does not sit well with me either. I could always just unlock her door without tapping. No, I guess that just is not how I do things. If she does not work as a helper, however, I do not feel obliged to care for her beyond a little food, a wave, and a “Good luck”.
Burned another one. Oh, another day that is.
The turkey turned out quite well. I was pleased with it. She ended up arriving quite late, so she brought only broccoli and a cucumber, which was fine. I produced a pan gravy, as the bird remained in the roaster, in the oven, on low. Firstly, I wished to keep it warm, lastly, it was a 23 pound bird so I wouldn’t have had a place for it anywhere anyway, at least until it was pieced down. Finally, there was the bread. It was quite good. I do believe even I liked the whole wheat mix better than the all white (non-bleached, as she probably would not have eaten it otherwise). She was happy with the meal. As a matter of fact, she acted a bit strange. She nearly kept it hidden, but I could have sworn I almost saw a tear. Who knows, it might just have been a fluke non-thing from just waking up, having nothing to do with anything but other thoughts in her head. Though, that is not my suspicion.
I have three loaves I will be handing out tomorrow. Probably to my southern neighbors as my eastern neighbors, by the sound of it, will not be actually moving in, only moving some things in. I have not yet met her boyfriend or child, and I am a little anxious. A move by August would be difficult. But if my landlord saw fit to introduce trouble here, he will just have to find some other renter to enjoy it. We will see, I suppose.
While I have been trying to quit chewing tobacco, I had to stop the patch, if temporarily. Though I was out of that tobacco, I still had pipe tobacco. I had started smoking it, while on the patch, and decided to either throw the tobacco away or halt the patch until that tobacco, too, was gone. You know, I just hate to waste (he’s lying). As well, there is much less nicotine in pipe tobacco and it is not inhaled, so it even less nicotine presenting (he’s fibbing). I am out, or will be by the end of the night, so, tomorrow, back on the patch (he’s telling the truth).
Of course, one of the good things that came about with this has been standing outside often. I stand or sit outside as I will not smoke in my apartment. I learned I actually enjoy being out, for spots at a time, in the sun and heat. A glass of ice tea or water, a bit of an eye on the neighborhood, and some “fresh air”. Now that the pipe is about done, I may continue this. Though I have a fancier design in mind. I spotted a little table and chairs, cast iron, with a greenish antique look which provides a place for an umbrella, and of course, an umbrella for it, the large outdoor bistro type. Yeah, I know, money and all, but… In honesty, I guess as long as I am staying up and busy, I will not be able to count pennies quite so easily.
I have also been working a great deal with a little hand held work out device. It is called a Dyno-Flex. I have the smallest of the lot. It produces about 25 pounds of force, when one finally learns how to work it. Beautiful little toy, actually. I know, in time, I will eventually be getting it’s bigger 40 pound force brother, and maybe even it’s 220 pound gorilla cousin. The Obfusticattor will get this one, as she actually has an interest. It is tightening up my arms amazingly well. I have been using it every time I go out for “fresh air”, so long as I am getting “fresh air”, I keep the thing in motion. My left arm is weaker, but I am attempting to even that out while adding some skills to that left arm. It has been used several hours a day, about a half an hour at a time, for the last three days or more. Perhaps I can get a little regimen going when I actually begin taking in fresh air.
Well, now to do some cleaning. I actually did a fairly good job of not having much of a mess. Of course, one does not cut a 23 pound turkey without some mess. And, of course, several pans where used for various other things. Oh, and the dishes, plates, silver ware, and every little other thing that is used, touched, over, and under the rest. Then again, the turkey may get set to storage, along with other foods, everything then rinsed and either soaked or set aside, and that final job be left for a new day (he’s thinking Friday, mayhap Saturday, do not be fooled into thinking tomorrow IS that new day).
Oh, ok, fine. I will put out today’s installment for those diehards. Ha! Tac eht llik, tac eht llik llik llik. hehehe
I have three loaves I will be handing out tomorrow. Probably to my southern neighbors as my eastern neighbors, by the sound of it, will not be actually moving in, only moving some things in. I have not yet met her boyfriend or child, and I am a little anxious. A move by August would be difficult. But if my landlord saw fit to introduce trouble here, he will just have to find some other renter to enjoy it. We will see, I suppose.
While I have been trying to quit chewing tobacco, I had to stop the patch, if temporarily. Though I was out of that tobacco, I still had pipe tobacco. I had started smoking it, while on the patch, and decided to either throw the tobacco away or halt the patch until that tobacco, too, was gone. You know, I just hate to waste (he’s lying). As well, there is much less nicotine in pipe tobacco and it is not inhaled, so it even less nicotine presenting (he’s fibbing). I am out, or will be by the end of the night, so, tomorrow, back on the patch (he’s telling the truth).
Of course, one of the good things that came about with this has been standing outside often. I stand or sit outside as I will not smoke in my apartment. I learned I actually enjoy being out, for spots at a time, in the sun and heat. A glass of ice tea or water, a bit of an eye on the neighborhood, and some “fresh air”. Now that the pipe is about done, I may continue this. Though I have a fancier design in mind. I spotted a little table and chairs, cast iron, with a greenish antique look which provides a place for an umbrella, and of course, an umbrella for it, the large outdoor bistro type. Yeah, I know, money and all, but… In honesty, I guess as long as I am staying up and busy, I will not be able to count pennies quite so easily.
I have also been working a great deal with a little hand held work out device. It is called a Dyno-Flex. I have the smallest of the lot. It produces about 25 pounds of force, when one finally learns how to work it. Beautiful little toy, actually. I know, in time, I will eventually be getting it’s bigger 40 pound force brother, and maybe even it’s 220 pound gorilla cousin. The Obfusticattor will get this one, as she actually has an interest. It is tightening up my arms amazingly well. I have been using it every time I go out for “fresh air”, so long as I am getting “fresh air”, I keep the thing in motion. My left arm is weaker, but I am attempting to even that out while adding some skills to that left arm. It has been used several hours a day, about a half an hour at a time, for the last three days or more. Perhaps I can get a little regimen going when I actually begin taking in fresh air.
Well, now to do some cleaning. I actually did a fairly good job of not having much of a mess. Of course, one does not cut a 23 pound turkey without some mess. And, of course, several pans where used for various other things. Oh, and the dishes, plates, silver ware, and every little other thing that is used, touched, over, and under the rest. Then again, the turkey may get set to storage, along with other foods, everything then rinsed and either soaked or set aside, and that final job be left for a new day (he’s thinking Friday, mayhap Saturday, do not be fooled into thinking tomorrow IS that new day).
Oh, ok, fine. I will put out today’s installment for those diehards. Ha! Tac eht llik, tac eht llik llik llik. hehehe
We are really cooking with oil now. I am just hoping a spark does not excite the times more.
Wow, busy, and more, even more busy. Busy on top of complicated right next to managing befoulment. What is the Ogre going on about, you ask. Well, I woke relatively early this morning, after finally crawling to bed quite late. It seems the Q.O.D. had some laundering tasks. She had just arrived, so I suspect even her sneaky attempt at being quiet was what woke me. We talk a bit, then she has to go do some things. She is unhappy with being so late, here, or on her return, I cannot remember. I never can tell what she is going on about when she gets this way and my brain has not followed my corpse into wakefulness. Well, no bother, I have a few things I would like to check, so I bypass my ears and start talking until she realizes she is unheard. With a little surprise, she notices me and begins to listen. Big eyes unsure if I am in the wrong for this, or if she has been being a twit. Not my thing, so I pass on and begin feeding her ears and brain.
Would you like turkey this evening? I could happily have it prepared for supper. “Oh, certainly, I think”. What time would you enjoy a thanksgiving and breaking of bread? “I suppose 21:00 would be sufficient”, she say. “Hmm, could you finish up my laundry, since you had wet stuff in the dryer? I am late, too late for *mumble*, and I am tired, so I want to go to bed”. You know I will do this, sure. So, she does a little this and that and flits like the hummingbird she reminds me off, and out the door she goes.
*ring* *buzz* Hello. “Pick up some corn, and would you like broccoli or *some other vegetable, I cannot remember now*, or both”? Huh? I am still not awake, mind you. I was happy to hear the phone, watch it vibe, AND realize I should answer it. You want what, or something (I am really good with words right now too!). “Yes, get corn, it should be on the corner. As I pass it, I will let you know if the vender is there. Nope, he is not there. So, which of those first two vegetables do you want”? Huh? Both (I lie sort of, I have no idea what she will be bringing, though I do want both of them). Will they be ready? “No, you will have to cook them”. Doh! I really say. No, will they be prepped. That would be good, as I’ve got a number of things going on. “Ok, sure”. Well, I do not say it, but… we will see.
So, I do this and that for a bit, decide how long the turkey will take, get cracking on setting up my work area, and look at the time. Ha, just enough time to do a batch of bread! This time I will try 1/3 cracked wheat flower. So, after all is ready, I begin that. The landlord knocks and we go out by the garage and speak. I let him know the tenant had stopped by, asking for his cel phone number, as his home phone is going unanswered. I had not been able to find it. He then tells me he had his son leave the keys in the garage, their side. I have the key to that garage, for the lawnmower, snow blower, and gas. However, half of any equation never works, so they went without the key for several days. *sigh* And, as we are out there, the other garage door is opened. We find it falling apart. Odd, mine too is problematic. We are having a difficulty. I believe we are going to need to get brand new locks for out there. My doors are find though, as I changed those myself most recently. No sets of keys for my place floating around. And, I am almost always home. It would not be good to enter should I be awake, worse should I be sleeping. I know she is here before she gets here usually. Should I not know who is here, things would get broken. Probably not dead, but totally disabled for the rest of their life and understanding fear, terror of death, horror at pain, I would leave them where I live. Most will not make it, and I am good with that. The tenant arrives, we all talk a bit, I offer my hand in helping her and her guy move in, tell her she may get some bread tomorrow, then excuse myself for that very reason. So much time has passed, I have to crack the whip to get it back, but this I do. However, I will not be able to get bread baked BEFORE the turkey needs to go in. Drats and daggnabbit too!
Supper in a few hours, laundry yet to get to, bread rising, vegetables to be steamed, gravy to be made, and I had hoped to do half of the lawn tonight, but urhm, not so much now. Other than that, not much going on in my littleverse. Oh, shoot, I had hoped to get to the wall tonight! *grumble, garbled things, and a few cusses* I will eat well. I flee to finish, start, and do a few middling steps.
Would you like turkey this evening? I could happily have it prepared for supper. “Oh, certainly, I think”. What time would you enjoy a thanksgiving and breaking of bread? “I suppose 21:00 would be sufficient”, she say. “Hmm, could you finish up my laundry, since you had wet stuff in the dryer? I am late, too late for *mumble*, and I am tired, so I want to go to bed”. You know I will do this, sure. So, she does a little this and that and flits like the hummingbird she reminds me off, and out the door she goes.
*ring* *buzz* Hello. “Pick up some corn, and would you like broccoli or *some other vegetable, I cannot remember now*, or both”? Huh? I am still not awake, mind you. I was happy to hear the phone, watch it vibe, AND realize I should answer it. You want what, or something (I am really good with words right now too!). “Yes, get corn, it should be on the corner. As I pass it, I will let you know if the vender is there. Nope, he is not there. So, which of those first two vegetables do you want”? Huh? Both (I lie sort of, I have no idea what she will be bringing, though I do want both of them). Will they be ready? “No, you will have to cook them”. Doh! I really say. No, will they be prepped. That would be good, as I’ve got a number of things going on. “Ok, sure”. Well, I do not say it, but… we will see.
So, I do this and that for a bit, decide how long the turkey will take, get cracking on setting up my work area, and look at the time. Ha, just enough time to do a batch of bread! This time I will try 1/3 cracked wheat flower. So, after all is ready, I begin that. The landlord knocks and we go out by the garage and speak. I let him know the tenant had stopped by, asking for his cel phone number, as his home phone is going unanswered. I had not been able to find it. He then tells me he had his son leave the keys in the garage, their side. I have the key to that garage, for the lawnmower, snow blower, and gas. However, half of any equation never works, so they went without the key for several days. *sigh* And, as we are out there, the other garage door is opened. We find it falling apart. Odd, mine too is problematic. We are having a difficulty. I believe we are going to need to get brand new locks for out there. My doors are find though, as I changed those myself most recently. No sets of keys for my place floating around. And, I am almost always home. It would not be good to enter should I be awake, worse should I be sleeping. I know she is here before she gets here usually. Should I not know who is here, things would get broken. Probably not dead, but totally disabled for the rest of their life and understanding fear, terror of death, horror at pain, I would leave them where I live. Most will not make it, and I am good with that. The tenant arrives, we all talk a bit, I offer my hand in helping her and her guy move in, tell her she may get some bread tomorrow, then excuse myself for that very reason. So much time has passed, I have to crack the whip to get it back, but this I do. However, I will not be able to get bread baked BEFORE the turkey needs to go in. Drats and daggnabbit too!
Supper in a few hours, laundry yet to get to, bread rising, vegetables to be steamed, gravy to be made, and I had hoped to do half of the lawn tonight, but urhm, not so much now. Other than that, not much going on in my littleverse. Oh, shoot, I had hoped to get to the wall tonight! *grumble, garbled things, and a few cusses* I will eat well. I flee to finish, start, and do a few middling steps.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Hmm, still haven't moved, but...
Weird, I am not even exactly sure what a goth is. If it's the old meaning, ya sure. I can do that. The others just are what they are.
 | You scored as Goth, Your A Goth!
What Group Are You? What Group Are You? Chav, Rocker, Skater, Emo, Goth, Trendy, Prepy Ect created with QuizFarm.com |
 | You scored as You are a Vampiric Elf!, Congratulations my friend! You are a Vampyric Elf. Your kind are few and far between! Your hobbies include drinking the blood of innocent victims or just draining it and mixing it with herbs and spices. You were once one of the noblest of white magic creatures but you turned against those who you loved, most likely because of lost love, and turn yourself into their greatest fear to punish them all!
What creature of the night are you you most like? (Pics!!) created with QuizFarm.com |
 | You scored as Angel, Angel: Angels are the guardians of all things, from the smallest ant to the tallest tree. They give inspiration, love, hope, and positive emotion. They live among humans without being seen. They are the good in all things, and if you feel alone, don't fear. They are always watching. Often times they merely stand by, whispering into the ears of those who feel lost. They would love nothing more then to reveal themselves, but in today's society, this would bring havoc and many unneeded questions. Give thanks to all things beautiful, for you are an Angel.
What Mythological Creature are you? (Cool Pics!) created with QuizFarm.com |
Hot day, hotter work, but the rest is easy.
What a day! I can work! Not that it would impress a real worker, yet it was pleasing to me. No bread, no turkey, no cooking at all. However, I did design, purchase the items I needed, several times, and then install a pull-up bar in my garage. It does not seem like much, and as I said, it really was not. What I ended up doing was buying a 6’ 4x4, some steel strapping, two lengths of chain, wood screws, eye bolts, this and that, and began. I was able to wrestle the 4x4 above the rafters, leveling it and evening it across three 2x4’s which make up the rafters. Then I cut the strapping in three, using one on the center 2x4 first. I hammer it into form, then drill a top hole but find the wood screws will not hold the strapping. Back to ACE I go, washers will do, so I grab 20 in two sizes I am pretty sure will work. I return and find they suffice. I begin drilling, then use the drill to screw the woodscrews home, form some more of the strap, then repeat the above until I have all three 2x4’s secured to the 4x4. Beautiful. Then I grab my drill to begin a hole through the 4x4. *sigh* Yeah, it was as fun as it sounds. None of the bits I had which would even start a hole with my drill would go all the way through. Still, I worked on stepping up the sizes of bits until I could finally try a half inch drill bit, the size I need and one that could go all the way through. No dice, it would go through to where I had drilled, but no further. No pushing or shoving would get it done. So, I tried another type of bit, is it a miter bit? I just am not sure, but it looks like a flat blade which goes to a point. I first had to use one size down, then size up. It worked quite well. After completing both holes, and getting out what I could from within the holes, I grabbed the eye bolts. They would not just go through. Instead of just using an even larger size bit, I decide to try and screw the eye bolt through, it works, but it’s a pain. After mucking and twisting and as my fingers tire, I think to grab a wrench and twist using it as leverage, that was the trick, but it still takes a goodly time. As it comes through the other side, I add the washer and the bolt. I finally finish both! Yeah! I have the chain and a screw link, I add the link, but find the chain is too small. Beyond, I am not sure how I will connect the chain to either of the bars I have. So, back to ACE I go. I find the last pieces and back to work. I get it all to fit, then begin leveling and raising the bar to my needed height. Perfect, done. That garage was hotter than the outside hot. Three or four hours of work, a couple hours figuring and getting parts, but it is done. I went to do a pull up. Yea, I didn’t think so.
It was not a miracle. It was not hard work to most. And it’s value is minor. Yet I am very happy with it. Not much of this day left, but I think I can get a few things done. I will get the kitchen cleaned up and do a few loads of laundry. I might even see if I can set up my class tonight. Then, a shower, and a good nights rest, I do believe. Good day.
It was not a miracle. It was not hard work to most. And it’s value is minor. Yet I am very happy with it. Not much of this day left, but I think I can get a few things done. I will get the kitchen cleaned up and do a few loads of laundry. I might even see if I can set up my class tonight. Then, a shower, and a good nights rest, I do believe. Good day.
A Tuesday in a long hot summer. It is 10:02 am, I do not care what the post says.
I woke nice and early, 7:15 give or take, in spite of a 2:30 bedtime. I had thought about mowing the lawn, I just did not get to it and it is already probably too warm. Soon, I will get to that soon enough. At least I did not feel the need to go back to bed today. I would like to do a few things though. The first thing is just to get going, groom and dress, and begin feeling my way to the door. The neighbor needs to be sought, and perhaps we can work on my fishing reel while plans are set in motion for a watery retreat. Then I need to take some measurements in the garage for the chin-up bar or bars, go get the lumber, and see what is available for attaching it all. I ought to get my jump rope out when I get that done. I hate exercising in public, but until this year, I could not tolerate the heat of the garage. Things change, sometimes even for the better. While getting the wood and parts, I think a stop for a bit of grocery shopping is in order. All I really need is water, paper plates, and something else, I think. Yea, it’s a guy thing I think. I would also like to get the kitchen straightened again, and get set for bread. Though the turkey may take precedence. Dang, I’ll probably have to rearrange the whole stupid refrigerator in order to mess with the turkey, whatever I decide to do with it. Oh, then, if it cools enough this evening, perhaps the lawn will be attended. Oh, yes, school and more importantly confession. The list grows and I continue to not get enough done!
No visit this morning, so I will not worry about that. It has not kept me from doing anything, I am moving slowly anyway. Although I am curious about something. The other night, I went out later in the evening for some things and stopped by her place of employ as if a typical customer. She was not at all pleased to see me, though I was neither offensive nor even being overtly social or familiar, I do not even believe I smelled funny, strongly, good, or bad. I have asked her about it, once she changed the subject (perhaps legitimately) and last night she was already late so it was dropped. Of course, cats are odd creatures. But if dropping by work is an issue, hers or theirs, I would rather not do it (dealing with people who drop by is most of the job). As a fact, I will not do it again until this is sorted. Dogs can be finicky themselves. *woof*
Wish me luck. I certainly send you my hopes for your successes, joys, and sufficient character to handle the rest. Be ye well!
No visit this morning, so I will not worry about that. It has not kept me from doing anything, I am moving slowly anyway. Although I am curious about something. The other night, I went out later in the evening for some things and stopped by her place of employ as if a typical customer. She was not at all pleased to see me, though I was neither offensive nor even being overtly social or familiar, I do not even believe I smelled funny, strongly, good, or bad. I have asked her about it, once she changed the subject (perhaps legitimately) and last night she was already late so it was dropped. Of course, cats are odd creatures. But if dropping by work is an issue, hers or theirs, I would rather not do it (dealing with people who drop by is most of the job). As a fact, I will not do it again until this is sorted. Dogs can be finicky themselves. *woof*
Wish me luck. I certainly send you my hopes for your successes, joys, and sufficient character to handle the rest. Be ye well!
A little sleep, a deserved rest.
The Cornish game hens ended up cooking well. I had let my friend know she could either have supper or take one with her tonight or tomorrow. That was a message, left on her device. Since I had heard nothing, and it was getting late, I thought to call midway through cooking. No answer. Then just a few minutes later, a call back. “Could I stop by on my way to work and pick one up?”, she wondered. Yes, it should be done by then I should think. “Oh, do not thaw the turkey in water, there are holes in the bag”. Not a problem, I had too many things on my list to complete to mess with the turkey, further, the only time I use water is when you bring a frozen turkey and want it cooked “tomorrow or sooner”. *laughs* You know I prefer to, at most open thaw, at best refrigerator thaw meats. *sigh* You never learn, or believe, I think this last to myself though I have said it countless times as well. It passes the time she is to start work, and still she has not arrived. That is fine, it was taking the birds a bit longer too to cook. After they finish, I set them out to cool, and begin my gravy. Half so much this time, thusly I drain off half of the fluid in the roater basin. It takes some time to do a gravy well, and I do take my time and do it right. When finished, I decide to cover my hens in the gravy, then further I decide to put these back into the oven, set the oven to 250 F, and to peel, dice, and boil potatoes. Done and done, as I put the potatoes on, hens already back in the oven, she arrives. A little fussing finding a suitable container for the Queen, and finally all is done. She is leaving, and I without thinking tell her, "See ya tomorrow!". She suggests, actually, now that she things about it, she will. Doh! Oh well, I probably could use a pull start in the morning, and pulling hair is just the ticket.
The birds do take a bit longer, since I am messing with extra fruit, placing some of it on top of the birds while they cook, all save her fowl. And, I turn the birds three times during cooking, so it is three times the extra fuss. Ah, but it is fun too. Next time, however, I think I will add a juice of some sort. As well, I think I should prefer cream, whole whipping cream, to milk for the gravy. Cooking, like writing, and in many ways, means nothing. One is written, what it is written upon or within is then stored somewhere, and that is pretty much the end. No one will truly read, and fewer still would even understand the real way in which it was written or what it means. Food is created, perhaps the processes developed, a flavor is achieved, and then both the cook and all consumers go on to what is next. This is not a bad thing, I just think it odd when one tries to indicate either of those are art, if artistic in the creation. I guess I just do not believe, not in art, not in science, not in most religion, philosophy, none of it. Games, man made games with silly rules, none of which come naturally, necessarily make sense, follow the dictates of logic, or even follow their own dogmas. I do have my religion, and it does make sense, but it is a dying religion. Agnostics have bolstered it until they finally realized they could not own it, change it, ruin it. Now they abandon it. There are some, however, who are there because they believe.
Rocky has not devoured a single more fish since he consumed the first three in days. He gets a little defensive, from time to time, as they actually come in to try and eat his special pellets. They have a technique that seems to work, two of them come in at different angles, while a third passes further out but right in front of him. I sort of think it is akin to playing chicken with a semi while driving a Prius or something. I really cannot believe how aggressive the fish get with Rocky. I’ve even seen one ‘kiss’ his back, right where his tail connects to his torso. No, these are not bigger fish. Not a one is longer then Rocky’s claw, point to joint. Me… I am waiting for the crash.
I did not contact my neighbor today. The new neighbors are not here. I did not make bread. I did not finish my climbing certification, though I did attempt that and I do have a time to go back. And I have a mess in the kitchen, with a thawing turkey to work around. She really picked the day poorly. I did enjoy some of the sun and heat. I did make inroads into the last of my unloading and sorting tasks. I did finish most of my laundry. I did get most of the parts for a pull up bar, perhaps pull up ladder. And I did have a pleasant meal. It cannot be called a failure at all. It would be nice to have a little more direction, flow, and specific energy though. In time, perhaps.
The birds do take a bit longer, since I am messing with extra fruit, placing some of it on top of the birds while they cook, all save her fowl. And, I turn the birds three times during cooking, so it is three times the extra fuss. Ah, but it is fun too. Next time, however, I think I will add a juice of some sort. As well, I think I should prefer cream, whole whipping cream, to milk for the gravy. Cooking, like writing, and in many ways, means nothing. One is written, what it is written upon or within is then stored somewhere, and that is pretty much the end. No one will truly read, and fewer still would even understand the real way in which it was written or what it means. Food is created, perhaps the processes developed, a flavor is achieved, and then both the cook and all consumers go on to what is next. This is not a bad thing, I just think it odd when one tries to indicate either of those are art, if artistic in the creation. I guess I just do not believe, not in art, not in science, not in most religion, philosophy, none of it. Games, man made games with silly rules, none of which come naturally, necessarily make sense, follow the dictates of logic, or even follow their own dogmas. I do have my religion, and it does make sense, but it is a dying religion. Agnostics have bolstered it until they finally realized they could not own it, change it, ruin it. Now they abandon it. There are some, however, who are there because they believe.
Rocky has not devoured a single more fish since he consumed the first three in days. He gets a little defensive, from time to time, as they actually come in to try and eat his special pellets. They have a technique that seems to work, two of them come in at different angles, while a third passes further out but right in front of him. I sort of think it is akin to playing chicken with a semi while driving a Prius or something. I really cannot believe how aggressive the fish get with Rocky. I’ve even seen one ‘kiss’ his back, right where his tail connects to his torso. No, these are not bigger fish. Not a one is longer then Rocky’s claw, point to joint. Me… I am waiting for the crash.
I did not contact my neighbor today. The new neighbors are not here. I did not make bread. I did not finish my climbing certification, though I did attempt that and I do have a time to go back. And I have a mess in the kitchen, with a thawing turkey to work around. She really picked the day poorly. I did enjoy some of the sun and heat. I did make inroads into the last of my unloading and sorting tasks. I did finish most of my laundry. I did get most of the parts for a pull up bar, perhaps pull up ladder. And I did have a pleasant meal. It cannot be called a failure at all. It would be nice to have a little more direction, flow, and specific energy though. In time, perhaps.
Monday, July 9, 2007
The Thought Traveler: A Tale of Mischief, Wonder, and Woe. Part V
I quietly enter the first room, and create a mechanical alarm at the door which I close behind me. I then edge my way to each room, checking to see what is locked, shut, closed, and open. All seems as I left it, the lockable doors locked, the other doors closed. Still, I check each room, finding nothing and seeing no disturbances, the goods I found and stowed remain. I close and lock what I can, again, as before, save for the office. I go into the office, find and abscond with the Legos, then close and lock that door too. The Legos I take to the first room and set to the right of the door. I am looking forward to seeing what I can make with these.
I ease out of the apartment, go into a squat, pause, and attempt to master the feel of the building again. I hear the air conditioning sounds, feel the air movement and fullness, and pick up what of the rest of the hum of the building, that which may be heard over the ac unit. I then listen for anything else. With no reason to worry, I shut and lock the door behind me, and begin my ascent to the main entrance hall level. Again, and again, as I ascend to the first apartment level, I squat and listen. No sound, no feel, nothing but the complexes life sounds and quiet.
I reach the first level, and pull out my map. The simple rectangular outer dimensions are betrayed by the intricate lay of the interior halls. It appears to be a labyrinth, and an irregular one. Each area is different and each floor is self-styled. A complication for thieves or other outsiders, I suppose. I brought markers which are invisible without the goggles, yet I would like to see if I can find my path without them as daylight might reveal my presence through them. I head in my pre-selected path and arrive at the first of my choice apartments.
The door is locked, a good time to test the master key. As good as gold, the key opens the lock. I listen, and then open the door. I step in and do a quick survey. No one is here, the place is a bit of a mess, and most items are gone. I find a food items, several sets of tools, some bedding and towels, and a some other minor potential wants and needs. I note these on a pad, collect the items, then store them in the main closet. I complete several apartments, listing, collecting, stashing, then moving on when I hear her approach. “Isabelle”, I whisper. I have a treat, which I proffer. She smells, licks, then finally takes the food. “Meow”? “More, later”, I say. She follows me through the rest of this floor, and as I near the stairs to the next floor, something beyond my senses attracts her attention, and she departs without so much as a look. As I am musing about why such a thing pleases me, I hear something. A door closed loudly, or a heavy item set down slightly clumsily, probably from the third floor, by the dimension of the sound and common sense, though that last being a tricky thing. I take the steps up slowly and with care.
I ease out of the apartment, go into a squat, pause, and attempt to master the feel of the building again. I hear the air conditioning sounds, feel the air movement and fullness, and pick up what of the rest of the hum of the building, that which may be heard over the ac unit. I then listen for anything else. With no reason to worry, I shut and lock the door behind me, and begin my ascent to the main entrance hall level. Again, and again, as I ascend to the first apartment level, I squat and listen. No sound, no feel, nothing but the complexes life sounds and quiet.
I reach the first level, and pull out my map. The simple rectangular outer dimensions are betrayed by the intricate lay of the interior halls. It appears to be a labyrinth, and an irregular one. Each area is different and each floor is self-styled. A complication for thieves or other outsiders, I suppose. I brought markers which are invisible without the goggles, yet I would like to see if I can find my path without them as daylight might reveal my presence through them. I head in my pre-selected path and arrive at the first of my choice apartments.
The door is locked, a good time to test the master key. As good as gold, the key opens the lock. I listen, and then open the door. I step in and do a quick survey. No one is here, the place is a bit of a mess, and most items are gone. I find a food items, several sets of tools, some bedding and towels, and a some other minor potential wants and needs. I note these on a pad, collect the items, then store them in the main closet. I complete several apartments, listing, collecting, stashing, then moving on when I hear her approach. “Isabelle”, I whisper. I have a treat, which I proffer. She smells, licks, then finally takes the food. “Meow”? “More, later”, I say. She follows me through the rest of this floor, and as I near the stairs to the next floor, something beyond my senses attracts her attention, and she departs without so much as a look. As I am musing about why such a thing pleases me, I hear something. A door closed loudly, or a heavy item set down slightly clumsily, probably from the third floor, by the dimension of the sound and common sense, though that last being a tricky thing. I take the steps up slowly and with care.
Gee, push, would you? The engine just does not have a bit of go.
No bread has been made. I was tinkering with this and that, getting all the camping, fishing, and hiking gear in, sorted, stored, or set for laundering. I finished a few loads of laundry. I just could not get going. It is hot today, the time I checked it was 87 in the shade. Later, I thought I would go climbing, to the wall climbing area anyway.
On my way, I decided to check into a pull up bar or see what might work, at ACE. It took a bit, but I slowly found most of the pieces I needed, though I was not sure about a couple of things. One of the salesman saw me and helped figure out the last pieces. I decided to buy two different sizes of bar and see which I like the best, perhaps each will have a purpose before I am through. I will need some lumber, as I had remember the garage rafters differently, but this should be a minor task. Several four foot lengths of 4x4’s, and braces for three or four 2x4 connections. I will measure more exactly, of course, before I buy the wood. I would like to put a rope in the garage, but I just do not think the type of mount I would need would work with this roof. I suppose I could go all technical, but I think whatever I did, I would also have to do something about leaks. Being rational as I am, I know I will never really every be able to “fix” the leaks created, so leaks would just be a problem henceforth. One in which I have no interest.
Though I did not produce bread, I am finally cooking the Cornish game hens. I attempted to truss them, and I suppose one could say they are beyond fit to be tied. I will have to find in my books, internet information areas, or somehow just exactly how such a bird is to be trussed. I would also like if I could find advice on the trussing of all common fowl. Duck, Turkey, Chicken, Goose, Cornish game hens, pheasant, there are probably more, but knowing those would help, and I do enjoy each. I did not put fruit in the water filled basin of the roaster, or on the two birds I fruit brined. I will be checking the juice, shortly, and if I think it will support fruit, I will then add some. I will be buttering the outsides, shortly, regardless. I am not exactly sure on the timing, with three birds, so I will just have to go with my instincts. I will also be making a gravy again, this time fruit themed. I used only half of the fruits I purchased, the last half to be chopped and added to the gravy. I cannot say how this will turn out, but I can hope.
I am going to have to get going on something. I feel like I am just floating. On the upside, at least I am not sinking. Perhaps a change in medication? I want to start monitoring my blood pressure though. I have been a bit lazy about that. I have been taking my medications, on time for the most part, and with the perspective of my clock and my day overlaying their suggested times, on occasion. Schedule a class! I better get on that, actually. My last math class, I am going to take that this fall, which means late August, but I really need to get in and take charge of that. I would do it online, but I am not sure they will let me. Dang, hmmm. I might try to do it online anyway. Bye.
On my way, I decided to check into a pull up bar or see what might work, at ACE. It took a bit, but I slowly found most of the pieces I needed, though I was not sure about a couple of things. One of the salesman saw me and helped figure out the last pieces. I decided to buy two different sizes of bar and see which I like the best, perhaps each will have a purpose before I am through. I will need some lumber, as I had remember the garage rafters differently, but this should be a minor task. Several four foot lengths of 4x4’s, and braces for three or four 2x4 connections. I will measure more exactly, of course, before I buy the wood. I would like to put a rope in the garage, but I just do not think the type of mount I would need would work with this roof. I suppose I could go all technical, but I think whatever I did, I would also have to do something about leaks. Being rational as I am, I know I will never really every be able to “fix” the leaks created, so leaks would just be a problem henceforth. One in which I have no interest.
Though I did not produce bread, I am finally cooking the Cornish game hens. I attempted to truss them, and I suppose one could say they are beyond fit to be tied. I will have to find in my books, internet information areas, or somehow just exactly how such a bird is to be trussed. I would also like if I could find advice on the trussing of all common fowl. Duck, Turkey, Chicken, Goose, Cornish game hens, pheasant, there are probably more, but knowing those would help, and I do enjoy each. I did not put fruit in the water filled basin of the roaster, or on the two birds I fruit brined. I will be checking the juice, shortly, and if I think it will support fruit, I will then add some. I will be buttering the outsides, shortly, regardless. I am not exactly sure on the timing, with three birds, so I will just have to go with my instincts. I will also be making a gravy again, this time fruit themed. I used only half of the fruits I purchased, the last half to be chopped and added to the gravy. I cannot say how this will turn out, but I can hope.
I am going to have to get going on something. I feel like I am just floating. On the upside, at least I am not sinking. Perhaps a change in medication? I want to start monitoring my blood pressure though. I have been a bit lazy about that. I have been taking my medications, on time for the most part, and with the perspective of my clock and my day overlaying their suggested times, on occasion. Schedule a class! I better get on that, actually. My last math class, I am going to take that this fall, which means late August, but I really need to get in and take charge of that. I would do it online, but I am not sure they will let me. Dang, hmmm. I might try to do it online anyway. Bye.
So much for the comfort of a nap.
I awoke early enough to begin to do whatever it is that I would want to do. Well, I did begin brining the fowl, and some other things though memory does not serve. I just could not focus then, and only a bit better now. I decided to go back to bed and see what happens. Honestly, I do not know what happened. I slept from 8:30 to 13:30 without a hitch is the only thing of which I may be sure, I think..
Before I laid down, I decided to give Her Heinous a call. Her phone was off as the connection went straight to message. Good girl I thought, she probably ought to get more sleep. I head off and crash like I was designed to do this. When I rise again, I find a 23 pound turkey in my sink. A note on it say “Call when this is roasted, preferably by Thursday”. Each year, we have been buying turkey together, first one, then two, and this year I think we bought four. I roast them, and we split the meat. She often takes the carcass an and produces soup. On a side note, I had always thought there was something magical about being able to roast a turkey just right. I now think someone is fooling someone, in a number of little schemes, or everyone is playing the same game using the cards they were dealt. I almost cannot cook a turkey wrong, and once I gave it a small effort for a non-nefarious reason, curiosity. Oh, I pretend to time it, and I fake taking it’s temperature, but really, the turkey tells me when it is done. The breasts are always moist, the dark meats are just so, no free blood in the joints or elsewhere. Anyway, so, I now have four dead fowl to attempt to add life back to, or add back to life more to truth. Oh, but she said nothing of the Cornish game hens. I had offered her supper or at least hers for her use for work supper or her home. No doubt, I will find out soon enough. Still, the fool girl went to the farm, in the heat, and worked rather than getting some sleep.
Oh, something else, while I was sleeping, I think I came across my purpose in life! You know that thing that burns your soul and threatens your immortal life and walk with God? You know that pet peeve which threatens to drive you over that thin edge of sanity? I am those. Gasoline for the fire, and I pour in such a way that all burns it seems. To touch me is to bleed. Most seem, in real life and here, to say, “Ow, look at the nice little gimp, let us talk, play, and be nice with each other”. I will not attempt to describe what is said under bated breath as the raging mob leaves my psychic premises. Besides, I usually only hear whispers, as is my wont.
But please, and sincerely, do not go away mad. I merely am what I am, and say what I do, both with no more thought than that which impels you to straighten your living room in just such a way, buy certain items, or speak using specific, and different, mannerisms with the many people in your life. My last said she had never known anyone who could cut so absolutely deeply with a few light words and a look and yet she does not understand as I am one of the nicest guys she says she has ever known. I still, to this day, horrify her at times. Maybe it is that I am a gimp, that old bitterness thing, though I do not feel bitter. My belief, should it be asked, is that I have been so far past this world that I do not even understand that people have some of the connections they do to it. And where I went, truth is not something skirted, and politely presented, so as to mollify sense and sensibility, it is all there was and it is a joy. No secrets, no lies, no foibles to be hidden.
Sometimes, what I see here, boils my blood. The lies and liars, the hate, deceit, Godlessness, death, and depravity do get me going. Sometimes I can hit the thing square on the head, sometimes it is so vast, living in the mortal before me, that all I can do is lead them to their mirror, let them see what I see, and leave them there. Or should they be of a violent nature, to end them without any more thought than that which is in my words, if it is in my power. I cannot help those who choose to be dead. I know where I want to go, and it is not here and it is not hell. Though, from what I see here, sometimes I wonder if this is not purgatory. There are at least ten times it could have been real, that I know about. As fast as a surprise bullet to the back of the head can happen, there are probably dozens of other times. And I do wonder. As I have said though, more the reason to follow the path to goodness. Much more actually.
Before I laid down, I decided to give Her Heinous a call. Her phone was off as the connection went straight to message. Good girl I thought, she probably ought to get more sleep. I head off and crash like I was designed to do this. When I rise again, I find a 23 pound turkey in my sink. A note on it say “Call when this is roasted, preferably by Thursday”. Each year, we have been buying turkey together, first one, then two, and this year I think we bought four. I roast them, and we split the meat. She often takes the carcass an and produces soup. On a side note, I had always thought there was something magical about being able to roast a turkey just right. I now think someone is fooling someone, in a number of little schemes, or everyone is playing the same game using the cards they were dealt. I almost cannot cook a turkey wrong, and once I gave it a small effort for a non-nefarious reason, curiosity. Oh, I pretend to time it, and I fake taking it’s temperature, but really, the turkey tells me when it is done. The breasts are always moist, the dark meats are just so, no free blood in the joints or elsewhere. Anyway, so, I now have four dead fowl to attempt to add life back to, or add back to life more to truth. Oh, but she said nothing of the Cornish game hens. I had offered her supper or at least hers for her use for work supper or her home. No doubt, I will find out soon enough. Still, the fool girl went to the farm, in the heat, and worked rather than getting some sleep.
Oh, something else, while I was sleeping, I think I came across my purpose in life! You know that thing that burns your soul and threatens your immortal life and walk with God? You know that pet peeve which threatens to drive you over that thin edge of sanity? I am those. Gasoline for the fire, and I pour in such a way that all burns it seems. To touch me is to bleed. Most seem, in real life and here, to say, “Ow, look at the nice little gimp, let us talk, play, and be nice with each other”. I will not attempt to describe what is said under bated breath as the raging mob leaves my psychic premises. Besides, I usually only hear whispers, as is my wont.
But please, and sincerely, do not go away mad. I merely am what I am, and say what I do, both with no more thought than that which impels you to straighten your living room in just such a way, buy certain items, or speak using specific, and different, mannerisms with the many people in your life. My last said she had never known anyone who could cut so absolutely deeply with a few light words and a look and yet she does not understand as I am one of the nicest guys she says she has ever known. I still, to this day, horrify her at times. Maybe it is that I am a gimp, that old bitterness thing, though I do not feel bitter. My belief, should it be asked, is that I have been so far past this world that I do not even understand that people have some of the connections they do to it. And where I went, truth is not something skirted, and politely presented, so as to mollify sense and sensibility, it is all there was and it is a joy. No secrets, no lies, no foibles to be hidden.
Sometimes, what I see here, boils my blood. The lies and liars, the hate, deceit, Godlessness, death, and depravity do get me going. Sometimes I can hit the thing square on the head, sometimes it is so vast, living in the mortal before me, that all I can do is lead them to their mirror, let them see what I see, and leave them there. Or should they be of a violent nature, to end them without any more thought than that which is in my words, if it is in my power. I cannot help those who choose to be dead. I know where I want to go, and it is not here and it is not hell. Though, from what I see here, sometimes I wonder if this is not purgatory. There are at least ten times it could have been real, that I know about. As fast as a surprise bullet to the back of the head can happen, there are probably dozens of other times. And I do wonder. As I have said though, more the reason to follow the path to goodness. Much more actually.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
The day ends, not a bad one.
I began working on the story after that last post, waiting for the world to cool down so that I might be able to get to the store. I do not have canola oil, and would like to get fruit as well. Now, it is finally cool but too late. I am done for the day. Not much more off the list, but my writers block seems to have abated, I have several more editions in advance, and I did tidy up a few things and produce a decent supper. Oh, I sharpened that experimental spice mix that I so like. It is better, much better with this one little partial exchange. My writing might not be art, but it is free.
In any case, I am going to bed. I will just have to see what tomorrow brings. Goodnight. Oh, drats, I think I am going to the store anyway. Tired or not, I just do not want to let this slide. *sigh* Goodnight anyway.
In any case, I am going to bed. I will just have to see what tomorrow brings. Goodnight. Oh, drats, I think I am going to the store anyway. Tired or not, I just do not want to let this slide. *sigh* Goodnight anyway.
The Story continues. What should I name it?
The Legos were on my mind that night, appearing in several of my dreams that night and for several nights to follow. So was Isabelle. If she was free, I would bring her back with me. I waited several days before deciding to return. I was not afraid, tired, nor were tasks or needs keeping me away or otherwise busy. I just do not feel a need to rush life, I suppose. The Legos and the cat topped the list, but curiosity about the rest added some pressure to the psychic thumb screws which invariably lead to the minding of a matter. After several days had past, it was time. Knowing the night might be a long one, I took a nap the whole of the afternoon, setting my alarm clock for 20:00.
When the alarm went off, I easily and quickly silenced it. I had been dozing that last half hour, gulping rest like a man who eats more than he should knowing he may need extra energy beyond the time he would get it from a regular sized meal and knowing he may not have the opportunity beyond this one to eat. My feet swung around, flattened to the floor, squared to my shoulders, and became perpendicular to the wall before me. If not for the carpet, they would have slapped down. I like crisp exits.
A quick wash and a brush of teeth and hair, and then to my clothes and gear. Fashionable yet functional is the mode of the day, I decide. Cotton is best in the heat and stress. It absorbs sweat like I slug down water, by the gallon. I prefer something in a shirt and pants which allow a full range of motion and cover me as fully as possible. Boots, gloves, and a knit cap fill out my outfit. Next the keys, goggles, a few tools, my favorite knife, and the pistol along with several mags. Each is checked, then put on, pocketed, holstered, or otherwise fitted appropriately.
I check my surroundings. The traps, some quiet, some loud, I have set to detect near and far approaches are all intact, and I see no one beyond those. I grab a quick cold bite to eat. A little beef jerky, a glass of tea, and an apple provide decent fare. I stash a piece of jerky in a belt pouch and don my camel back. One more check of the surrounding area, and with an all clear, out into the evening I go.
I am a creature of random habit. I will follow the same path for a while, then not, independent of planning. This night I will use the same path as before, same game plan, same techniques. I head around the large building, but half way around I spot a small group of people heading toward me, roughly, but in a direct line that is tangent to the encircling path I am following. I quickly lower and sidle toward an abandoned Subaru wagon and carefully peak through the vehicle’s windows. I watch the band approach then angle away. I cannot observe great detail, with the gloom, trees, and tinted glass hindering my goal. I do see three people, what looks like two males and a female perhaps, and that they do not seem to have noticed me. All remain in the group and the group continues in it’s previously noted direction and at a regular if lackadaisical pace. In three minutes they are out of sight and sound. I wait another five minutes, then cautiously continue to my staging area.
I use the same system as before. The plan works well, and I gain entrance easily. I decide to check the manager’s quarters, and if all is well, use it as a storage and distribution center. I reach the quarters and check the knob. Locked. I pull out the keys, and try the master key on the knob itself, first. *click* Then top bolt. *click* Then the secondary bolt. *nothing* I attempt to open the door, and succeed. I close it again, attempt to lock that bolt again, *click* then check. It is locked and that does secure the door. As I am sure it was locked before, and now know it does bar the door when locked, I must conclude someone has been here and at least unlocked that bolt. Someone has some of the keys, at least. I decide to check the manager’s apartment closely.
When the alarm went off, I easily and quickly silenced it. I had been dozing that last half hour, gulping rest like a man who eats more than he should knowing he may need extra energy beyond the time he would get it from a regular sized meal and knowing he may not have the opportunity beyond this one to eat. My feet swung around, flattened to the floor, squared to my shoulders, and became perpendicular to the wall before me. If not for the carpet, they would have slapped down. I like crisp exits.
A quick wash and a brush of teeth and hair, and then to my clothes and gear. Fashionable yet functional is the mode of the day, I decide. Cotton is best in the heat and stress. It absorbs sweat like I slug down water, by the gallon. I prefer something in a shirt and pants which allow a full range of motion and cover me as fully as possible. Boots, gloves, and a knit cap fill out my outfit. Next the keys, goggles, a few tools, my favorite knife, and the pistol along with several mags. Each is checked, then put on, pocketed, holstered, or otherwise fitted appropriately.
I check my surroundings. The traps, some quiet, some loud, I have set to detect near and far approaches are all intact, and I see no one beyond those. I grab a quick cold bite to eat. A little beef jerky, a glass of tea, and an apple provide decent fare. I stash a piece of jerky in a belt pouch and don my camel back. One more check of the surrounding area, and with an all clear, out into the evening I go.
I am a creature of random habit. I will follow the same path for a while, then not, independent of planning. This night I will use the same path as before, same game plan, same techniques. I head around the large building, but half way around I spot a small group of people heading toward me, roughly, but in a direct line that is tangent to the encircling path I am following. I quickly lower and sidle toward an abandoned Subaru wagon and carefully peak through the vehicle’s windows. I watch the band approach then angle away. I cannot observe great detail, with the gloom, trees, and tinted glass hindering my goal. I do see three people, what looks like two males and a female perhaps, and that they do not seem to have noticed me. All remain in the group and the group continues in it’s previously noted direction and at a regular if lackadaisical pace. In three minutes they are out of sight and sound. I wait another five minutes, then cautiously continue to my staging area.
I use the same system as before. The plan works well, and I gain entrance easily. I decide to check the manager’s quarters, and if all is well, use it as a storage and distribution center. I reach the quarters and check the knob. Locked. I pull out the keys, and try the master key on the knob itself, first. *click* Then top bolt. *click* Then the secondary bolt. *nothing* I attempt to open the door, and succeed. I close it again, attempt to lock that bolt again, *click* then check. It is locked and that does secure the door. As I am sure it was locked before, and now know it does bar the door when locked, I must conclude someone has been here and at least unlocked that bolt. Someone has some of the keys, at least. I decide to check the manager’s apartment closely.
Afternoon, and all is well.
A slow humble day, that is what this day is for me. And yet, I am enjoying it immensely. Some of my tasks are done, some are being done, and a few remain. Whatever I get done today, I believe I will be pleased with. So far, the kitchen has been straightened, though not perfected it is ready for bread and roasting should that become fashionably entertained. My shirts have been washed three times, twice in cold/cold and this final load in warm/cold, with little bits and pieces going in and then on to the drier between the loads. A few more loads at this point, and I will be well settled for another week, two if I stretch it. I have tea brewed and cooling, though I stole a rather large part of one of the half gallon jugs, and just poured it over ice to allow a cool drink. I decided mint would be best, and so both bottles have that plants flavor. And, I have been taking little breaks out in the open air, albeit staying to the shadow. I have a decent breezeway, covered for part of the way by a roof yet open on either end with neither a door or structure, depending on the garage and duplex to sustain it’s mass.
I was able to contact my Mom this morning. She too was just waking. She is doing well, probably going to her man’s place sometime this day to tend his needs, visit, have a meal, and try and get in some sort of trouble. I do enjoy that woman, and I see her gears work as well. Innocent in thought, but she just looks for trouble in the back of that mind. Oh, the good kind of trouble, mind you. She will probably remind him of ten chores on his list, do a few of them herself anyway, suggest a few more for the list since those are done, chatter at him till his brain is about to pop, then settle down while he tries to figure out what just happened and if he came out ahead, behind, and if there were any fouls. *laughing* I will have to see if I can get her to visit some time in August. I have a few tasks which she is good at that need to be completed. She enjoys doing these things, but she has a life there, and I would not send for her without being able to put her up well, afford some spending mad money, and then send her home with a shiny nickel or two. It is the small things, things which for her are life and for me joy.
Speaking of making contact, I should see about my neighbor. He is a rather devout man, and I prefer not to disturb his Sundays, certainly not too early on those days. I am sure he goes to church early and his church service is relatively long. Then, he goes home, perhaps does family devotionals, and enjoys simple family life when school or work do not force his attentions other wise. I think on this, each time, as regardless of the day but most certainly on Sundays, I find it difficult to disturb those around me as I have noted before. It would be quite nice to have a plan to go fishing in the works though.
I have also been working on my continuing tale of life after devastation. I just cannot find happiness with my work. I know it is in there, and I know there is a way to put it which will please me and is correct. I am sure I need to write more clearly, yet I do not wish to write too simply. The next installment, perhaps the next two installments, could be considered written. The work just is not done, however, in spite of my efforts last night, this morning, a bit earlier, and just recently. I may be losing something in the writing, or maybe just finding my limit. I am not sure if anyone can write, though I think the limit is not imagination or language skills so much as it is just doing it. Maybe I just cannot do it. Listen to me! What a fool, a jester, a joker I am! What a lark is my sadness! I can barely spell my name, and here I lament my incapacity at art! Ha, perhaps my unfinished, if also unstarted, cave art will give me the same fits? At least my soiled laundry sculptures have caused me no disturbances.
An update seemed the thing to do, while taking a break awaiting the drier’s end. It is time to get a few more things folded, started, and perhaps begin the bread.
I was able to contact my Mom this morning. She too was just waking. She is doing well, probably going to her man’s place sometime this day to tend his needs, visit, have a meal, and try and get in some sort of trouble. I do enjoy that woman, and I see her gears work as well. Innocent in thought, but she just looks for trouble in the back of that mind. Oh, the good kind of trouble, mind you. She will probably remind him of ten chores on his list, do a few of them herself anyway, suggest a few more for the list since those are done, chatter at him till his brain is about to pop, then settle down while he tries to figure out what just happened and if he came out ahead, behind, and if there were any fouls. *laughing* I will have to see if I can get her to visit some time in August. I have a few tasks which she is good at that need to be completed. She enjoys doing these things, but she has a life there, and I would not send for her without being able to put her up well, afford some spending mad money, and then send her home with a shiny nickel or two. It is the small things, things which for her are life and for me joy.
Speaking of making contact, I should see about my neighbor. He is a rather devout man, and I prefer not to disturb his Sundays, certainly not too early on those days. I am sure he goes to church early and his church service is relatively long. Then, he goes home, perhaps does family devotionals, and enjoys simple family life when school or work do not force his attentions other wise. I think on this, each time, as regardless of the day but most certainly on Sundays, I find it difficult to disturb those around me as I have noted before. It would be quite nice to have a plan to go fishing in the works though.
I have also been working on my continuing tale of life after devastation. I just cannot find happiness with my work. I know it is in there, and I know there is a way to put it which will please me and is correct. I am sure I need to write more clearly, yet I do not wish to write too simply. The next installment, perhaps the next two installments, could be considered written. The work just is not done, however, in spite of my efforts last night, this morning, a bit earlier, and just recently. I may be losing something in the writing, or maybe just finding my limit. I am not sure if anyone can write, though I think the limit is not imagination or language skills so much as it is just doing it. Maybe I just cannot do it. Listen to me! What a fool, a jester, a joker I am! What a lark is my sadness! I can barely spell my name, and here I lament my incapacity at art! Ha, perhaps my unfinished, if also unstarted, cave art will give me the same fits? At least my soiled laundry sculptures have caused me no disturbances.
An update seemed the thing to do, while taking a break awaiting the drier’s end. It is time to get a few more things folded, started, and perhaps begin the bread.
Well, there is that too.
I awoke early, went to bed early too, I think. I just cannot get on the ball. I do have some plans, however. I think it is past time to get caught up on laundry, clean the kitchen a bit, do another batch of bread, and roast some Cornish game hens. I figure I can keep one on hand and cooked for a few days, should the new neighbors arrive. That and a loaf of bread ought to be a decent welcome. As well, I might offer to help them unload, along with another neighbor who has put his hat in that ring. If it all works, it might be quite nice for them.
Laundry should be started first. I am actually low on a few things. Or, at least, my favored things. It has been some time since I was out and about nearly daily in this kind of heat. What I have found is that one days wear is it. It does not matter what the article of clothing, done is done, jeans, shorts, shirt, socks, everything, and sometimes twice or three times a day. Should I shower and clean up early, head out to do some shopping, then return and clean up to do something social, then return and need to clean up again for something else, a complete change is in order every time. So, with my great skills, I have managed a very high pile of dirty clothing. At least I dry the stuff before sculpting with it.
Then, I think, the bread is in order. I may use Heidi’s suggestion, and freeze three of the loaves, baking the remaining loaf. Then make another batch again soon, doing the same. It gives me practice, sets a few to the ready, allows me to taste each batch, and works well with my plans. I may check around to see if some bread store or other sells bread bags and twists. I can see why K seemed happy about those.
Later, maybe this evening, I plan on attending to the hens. I have even considered fruit brining them. Orange, orange and lemon, orange and lime, I dunno, something a little different. Maybe brine two one way and the last another just to compare. I want to do something different. And, I will attempt another gravy, even if it ends up being a bit fruity. This time I have some of the herbs I want to try, though not the particular ones often called for. Still, recipes have never really been my deal, the manner in which the item is processed, stages of cooking and the times for those, and prep notes are truly helpful from trusted recipes, but the taste I get from even my favored recipes is never quite there, and even if absolutely correct which I think many of my results have been, they are not my cup of alfalfa juice.
I will just have to see what in the world happens on a day like today. Oh, I will probably contact my neighbor and see when he would like to go fishing. I have had a little time to rest and relax, I should have my place back in order, and this week should be a good one for getting back out there and checking some things out, wetting some line, and enjoying the summer. Oh, yeah, fresh corn on the cob is being sold in it’s usual place. I’ll have to get a dozen or two. Good stuff, Iowa summer stuff, and it recycles to duck food.
Laundry should be started first. I am actually low on a few things. Or, at least, my favored things. It has been some time since I was out and about nearly daily in this kind of heat. What I have found is that one days wear is it. It does not matter what the article of clothing, done is done, jeans, shorts, shirt, socks, everything, and sometimes twice or three times a day. Should I shower and clean up early, head out to do some shopping, then return and clean up to do something social, then return and need to clean up again for something else, a complete change is in order every time. So, with my great skills, I have managed a very high pile of dirty clothing. At least I dry the stuff before sculpting with it.
Then, I think, the bread is in order. I may use Heidi’s suggestion, and freeze three of the loaves, baking the remaining loaf. Then make another batch again soon, doing the same. It gives me practice, sets a few to the ready, allows me to taste each batch, and works well with my plans. I may check around to see if some bread store or other sells bread bags and twists. I can see why K seemed happy about those.
Later, maybe this evening, I plan on attending to the hens. I have even considered fruit brining them. Orange, orange and lemon, orange and lime, I dunno, something a little different. Maybe brine two one way and the last another just to compare. I want to do something different. And, I will attempt another gravy, even if it ends up being a bit fruity. This time I have some of the herbs I want to try, though not the particular ones often called for. Still, recipes have never really been my deal, the manner in which the item is processed, stages of cooking and the times for those, and prep notes are truly helpful from trusted recipes, but the taste I get from even my favored recipes is never quite there, and even if absolutely correct which I think many of my results have been, they are not my cup of alfalfa juice.
I will just have to see what in the world happens on a day like today. Oh, I will probably contact my neighbor and see when he would like to go fishing. I have had a little time to rest and relax, I should have my place back in order, and this week should be a good one for getting back out there and checking some things out, wetting some line, and enjoying the summer. Oh, yeah, fresh corn on the cob is being sold in it’s usual place. I’ll have to get a dozen or two. Good stuff, Iowa summer stuff, and it recycles to duck food.
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