.
.
I did get the chicken, even the breasts, done. Crispy skin? I think, mostly. It was a bit bland. Okay. Now, the potato salad I knew would be slightly bland. It was... food. And, the Mrs. didn't have to cook. And with children? Well, they like it unless they don't, and then again, they could be hungry, so they might eat anyway. *grins* Been there done that. They had a trip last night though that kept them up until midnight, all of them. So... today was a bit... interesting for them. So I am not sure food mattered so much when you are very tired? Still, it was pleasant to have company, to bring over a meal, and to feed people. Not just back. I've always said I like to feed people.
The bit of work will be forgotten in no time, the odd hours are usual. Even figuring out how to actually make it to the doctor or dentist can cause me to need to shift and contort my wanted, needed sometimes, sleep cycles. It was good to actually put a meal together within a timed situation. Like any other task that most people do for a living. I hope, even if it can be a pain when a dozen of their projects are timed, that they can slow down once in a while and appreciate that ability to get it done.
I left the extra food there. While it might make a small extra meal, it might just as well work toward offering nibblings for a bit. After their singular incident with staying up, as a family, until midnight or later, I suspect it is difficult to wrangle the children, keep on going, and mess with food. Their daughter reminds me of the girl from The Supers, at least before she comes into her own... or on the way? Girls and women of a certain age are notoriously difficult for menfolk to fully read. The older boys... yeah, well, I know that part. Each reminds me of various parts of my youth. The youngest children? Well, they are still just children. They are just starting to form who they are. It's an interesting thing to think about now and realize I must have been there. As for the parents? Well, it is odd to see adults as people, and parents. I've dealt with adults as adults. I had parents. But the mix is sort of... new. Parenting is primary, I see that right off. To see one of them talking to me about something, then snap into parent mode, then back, without a hitch... no... that is too funny. I think, as well, like with people who have turrets syndrome they sometimes aren't even aware of what they just did. Sometimes they can come right back to relating adult to adult, sometimes they have to think where the conversation was going. No, no, not laughing in a 'poking fun' way... just noticing.
All good. I didn't eat much, but I was testing, tasting, along the way. It's odd how just checking, and I do mean very lightly, can fill you up on very little food. Well, and cooking can sometimes make me not hungry, unless I am famished when I begin the process.
A bit more time up get or keep my time day schedule on track, then to bed. I will be ready for it. Quite the little deal, for me anyway. Oh, for me, about a dozen eggs to five pounds of potatoes ended up being (again, to my tastes) just about the perfect match.
Later, maybe good night.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Chicken is about ready.
.
.
I actually thought this would be a bit easier and faster than making a meal turns out to be. I suppose, for me, if I feel like cooking at midnight, or 13:00, or whenever.... and I am doing it for myself... when the mood and ability combine... it would make the project seem easier. It has been four years since I cooked regularly, five or six times a week for sure, and supper had to be at a specific time. Then again, and too, I didn't cook for 10 people. While I usually cook in similar sized batches I don't usually cook things together anymore. I mean, potato salad, if I would deign to make such, might be made on Wednesday, say... while chicken or roast would be made on Friday or Saturday. Actually, usually, meat first. Anything that might go with it secondly if at all. Still, it's coming along just fine.
The chicken is baking, currently. One thing that might be a problem? Those chicken breasts. Still, I think I might be able to cover that, too. I usually don't do chicken breast. Simply put I don't like white chicken meat. So, when it thawed, and soaked it, and I was flowering them (for the first time in my cooking career)... wow are those pieces big. I don't really know how to dress them out or otherwise cut them down to size. Sure, you can cut meat any way you like, but you can also make meat very tough doing it the wrong way. Anyway, into the oven it all went. I believe, when I take the rest of the pieces out to begin frying them I will simply leave the breasts in the oven. And, I will fry them a little longer too. Those are the major question marks in the whole endeavor.
My mother called this morning. I didn't answer, probably didn't hear it, having been up very late working on the potato salad. In any case I called her back after I had been awake for a while. Among other things I discussed my dinner doings. Her first reaction? Baking AND THEN pan frying? Yep, mom, and re-battering the chicken after the bake. Well, she asked, do you use oil/lard/fat in the baking dutch oven? Me, nope. Her... essentially... That's... that's Not Right! *chuckles* I just suggested she try it first, on a small batch, then tell me what she thinks about it. I'll bet you dollars to donuts she won't go back to her way. Yeah, I know how it is "supposed" to be done. And I didn't like it. So I fixed the damned notion. And I like my way better as it turns out.
I need to get a shower in the next half hour to forty five minutes. I sort of hate to be showered before pan frying, but there really may not be time after. I could have, and thought about, timing it so that I could shower and rest a bit, but I don't like cold fried chicken (for the first tasting). And while you can keep it warm in the oven, that will cause it to cook more. I am sure you could... figure out some ideal way of making it all work but that would take a lot of practice, practice I don't have and can't get before this needs to be done.
I just called the folks I get to feed tonight, letting them know I have the chicken, potato salad, plus rolls and cookies. If they want baked beans, or slaw, or something, all good. But it may not be needed. I am trying to put together the whole meal. I just don't know if it will be enough. I know if they ate like me... not so much. But with three children 10 and under, and fussy teens, and the oldest being a girl... my guess is this will be nearly feast level food amounts. This would only feed three or four of me when hungry, but then, even at optimum weight I come in at 240 pounds, a solid man and an half or two women types or about a half dozen children. I suggested that I was planning on 18:00, but... with the chicken breasts as a new thing, I couldn't swear to it. No earlier, maybe a few minutes late. Any later for whatever reason and I would call. All good.
Well, on to a bit of blog browsing, then a shower, and then to the frying stage. I do like frying chicken. A chemistry and biology problem (on multiple fronts), with some element of danger, and some excellent sniffing materials while in the 'cook' stage. Oh... Yeah...
Later.
.
I actually thought this would be a bit easier and faster than making a meal turns out to be. I suppose, for me, if I feel like cooking at midnight, or 13:00, or whenever.... and I am doing it for myself... when the mood and ability combine... it would make the project seem easier. It has been four years since I cooked regularly, five or six times a week for sure, and supper had to be at a specific time. Then again, and too, I didn't cook for 10 people. While I usually cook in similar sized batches I don't usually cook things together anymore. I mean, potato salad, if I would deign to make such, might be made on Wednesday, say... while chicken or roast would be made on Friday or Saturday. Actually, usually, meat first. Anything that might go with it secondly if at all. Still, it's coming along just fine.
The chicken is baking, currently. One thing that might be a problem? Those chicken breasts. Still, I think I might be able to cover that, too. I usually don't do chicken breast. Simply put I don't like white chicken meat. So, when it thawed, and soaked it, and I was flowering them (for the first time in my cooking career)... wow are those pieces big. I don't really know how to dress them out or otherwise cut them down to size. Sure, you can cut meat any way you like, but you can also make meat very tough doing it the wrong way. Anyway, into the oven it all went. I believe, when I take the rest of the pieces out to begin frying them I will simply leave the breasts in the oven. And, I will fry them a little longer too. Those are the major question marks in the whole endeavor.
My mother called this morning. I didn't answer, probably didn't hear it, having been up very late working on the potato salad. In any case I called her back after I had been awake for a while. Among other things I discussed my dinner doings. Her first reaction? Baking AND THEN pan frying? Yep, mom, and re-battering the chicken after the bake. Well, she asked, do you use oil/lard/fat in the baking dutch oven? Me, nope. Her... essentially... That's... that's Not Right! *chuckles* I just suggested she try it first, on a small batch, then tell me what she thinks about it. I'll bet you dollars to donuts she won't go back to her way. Yeah, I know how it is "supposed" to be done. And I didn't like it. So I fixed the damned notion. And I like my way better as it turns out.
I need to get a shower in the next half hour to forty five minutes. I sort of hate to be showered before pan frying, but there really may not be time after. I could have, and thought about, timing it so that I could shower and rest a bit, but I don't like cold fried chicken (for the first tasting). And while you can keep it warm in the oven, that will cause it to cook more. I am sure you could... figure out some ideal way of making it all work but that would take a lot of practice, practice I don't have and can't get before this needs to be done.
I just called the folks I get to feed tonight, letting them know I have the chicken, potato salad, plus rolls and cookies. If they want baked beans, or slaw, or something, all good. But it may not be needed. I am trying to put together the whole meal. I just don't know if it will be enough. I know if they ate like me... not so much. But with three children 10 and under, and fussy teens, and the oldest being a girl... my guess is this will be nearly feast level food amounts. This would only feed three or four of me when hungry, but then, even at optimum weight I come in at 240 pounds, a solid man and an half or two women types or about a half dozen children. I suggested that I was planning on 18:00, but... with the chicken breasts as a new thing, I couldn't swear to it. No earlier, maybe a few minutes late. Any later for whatever reason and I would call. All good.
Well, on to a bit of blog browsing, then a shower, and then to the frying stage. I do like frying chicken. A chemistry and biology problem (on multiple fronts), with some element of danger, and some excellent sniffing materials while in the 'cook' stage. Oh... Yeah...
Later.
Perfect!
.
.
No, I am not saying you would like my potato salad. What I am saying is, as potato salad goes, when I aim for a flavor and texture profile for my own tastes this was it. Not too this, too that, too much, or too little. Well, with one caveat. The potato dices were a little on the large side even for my rustic style. I felt rushed, and put myself in that position a bit. Then again I got started when I could, no sooner or later, to be fair. All good. I will have to taste it once cool to make sure it is spiced enough. It will probably need more salt, though... sometimes not. Taste is an odd thing, goes with moods.
I have about six or seven hours to sleep before I need to wake up, shower to be presentable (and probably shave), relax just a bit, then hit the chicken. A salt soak helps keep the chicken a bit plumper, more moist, and takes away bad stuff. I want to soak it an hour before flouring it, so... Yeah, bed time. I just hope I can sleep. With the potato salad done to my liking sleep might be easier.
Good night... morning.
.
No, I am not saying you would like my potato salad. What I am saying is, as potato salad goes, when I aim for a flavor and texture profile for my own tastes this was it. Not too this, too that, too much, or too little. Well, with one caveat. The potato dices were a little on the large side even for my rustic style. I felt rushed, and put myself in that position a bit. Then again I got started when I could, no sooner or later, to be fair. All good. I will have to taste it once cool to make sure it is spiced enough. It will probably need more salt, though... sometimes not. Taste is an odd thing, goes with moods.
I have about six or seven hours to sleep before I need to wake up, shower to be presentable (and probably shave), relax just a bit, then hit the chicken. A salt soak helps keep the chicken a bit plumper, more moist, and takes away bad stuff. I want to soak it an hour before flouring it, so... Yeah, bed time. I just hope I can sleep. With the potato salad done to my liking sleep might be easier.
Good night... morning.
Lamenting and eschewing advice.
.
.
One friend, recently, in a discussion... realized I might know a little summit about summit. I will do some digging to find more information for him. Basically I know what I just don't know the technical terms. I think he is in trouble and would like to entertain the peril, he just has some problems with it. Another friend has declined my advice. All good though. It wasn't... really... advice. It is what I think about some things, how I go about it, and... when I was saying "Wrong!", I should have been saying... "Yes, I see what you are saying, but that isn't quite my point with this." Maybe he did get it and I just didn't see it. Or maybe he really didn't get it. I'll reread and think. I think of it more as talking around each other, I think. What was I saying the other day about me being an S.O.B, and just figuring how to be on the right side of it? I don't think this was even being on the wrong or right side. I was being an S.O.B and there might not have been a good place to be there.
As for any advice I do give, or seem to give? It is worth every single penny you have spent for it. And, even should it profit you, I would not charge. So, there is that. Further, can I be wrong? I hope the hell I can be wrong. If I am right all or even most of the time? Fuggetaboutit. We are in heapum bison poo. Or... we are all going to be fine and live happily ever after. Yeah, but I'm not just an S.O.B, I'm a moody one. All I do here is paint pictures with words as I see things and try to... correct for incongruities in understanding what I have painted, not what is or is not real, true, or what to do, other than stating what I do, think I would do, have done, or might want to do or do differently. I don't mind, sometimes care, if someone agrees with me or not. That... isn't really my point. Much like an artist who is painting an abstract picture wants it to viewed a certain way, when someone doesn't quite get it, at least someone he thinks can get it (is worth the trouble), he will try to... point the way. He doesn't always do it in the most diplomatic of ways. So it is with me, words, and ideas. *points* Ugh! Go! *point* Ugh, ugh! Hurry.
The potato salad is taking much longer than I thought. I needed a bit of a nap. I set up for it but couldn't sleep with potato salad on my mind. I'm sort of shooting myself in the foot, time and sleep wise, but I sort of... I am doing what I can. I realize, at times like these, that my idea of time and real time are two very different things. I do believe it has to do with my internal clock running at 165 Tera hertz or 4 mega hertz. I seem to either need to speed through everything, making time almost stand still, or I simply lose track of time and time speeds past me like the tortoise does the rabbit in the old tales, while I nap or... snooze awake. I am getting there, just... not quickly. I did need to do some cleaning first, mostly dishes, and mostly for a sense of having a space to prep. But the water for the eggs is on to boil. In about 15 minutes I'll check the water, finish the dishes, and go from their. Whenever the eggs go in I will begin peeling potatoes. Of course, in the next few minutes I really need to look at a number of recipes to see what egg to potato ratio is most common or believably best. When completed, a bit of sleep until early afternoon. I'd like the chicken to go into the oven no later than 16:00, which would give me, after the 45 minutes of roasting, an hour and fifteen minutes to fry three to four batches(?) and have everything over to the neighbors. That... should work? No, the chicken best go in by 15:30. Hmm, even then, at max of say 4 batches, in an hour and forty five minutes? About 25 minutes per batch? Yeah, that should be fine, easily. Wait, I don't need to actually cook the chicken, just crisp it. Yeah, 16:00. Never mind.
Later, or good night.
.
One friend, recently, in a discussion... realized I might know a little summit about summit. I will do some digging to find more information for him. Basically I know what I just don't know the technical terms. I think he is in trouble and would like to entertain the peril, he just has some problems with it. Another friend has declined my advice. All good though. It wasn't... really... advice. It is what I think about some things, how I go about it, and... when I was saying "Wrong!", I should have been saying... "Yes, I see what you are saying, but that isn't quite my point with this." Maybe he did get it and I just didn't see it. Or maybe he really didn't get it. I'll reread and think. I think of it more as talking around each other, I think. What was I saying the other day about me being an S.O.B, and just figuring how to be on the right side of it? I don't think this was even being on the wrong or right side. I was being an S.O.B and there might not have been a good place to be there.
As for any advice I do give, or seem to give? It is worth every single penny you have spent for it. And, even should it profit you, I would not charge. So, there is that. Further, can I be wrong? I hope the hell I can be wrong. If I am right all or even most of the time? Fuggetaboutit. We are in heapum bison poo. Or... we are all going to be fine and live happily ever after. Yeah, but I'm not just an S.O.B, I'm a moody one. All I do here is paint pictures with words as I see things and try to... correct for incongruities in understanding what I have painted, not what is or is not real, true, or what to do, other than stating what I do, think I would do, have done, or might want to do or do differently. I don't mind, sometimes care, if someone agrees with me or not. That... isn't really my point. Much like an artist who is painting an abstract picture wants it to viewed a certain way, when someone doesn't quite get it, at least someone he thinks can get it (is worth the trouble), he will try to... point the way. He doesn't always do it in the most diplomatic of ways. So it is with me, words, and ideas. *points* Ugh! Go! *point* Ugh, ugh! Hurry.
The potato salad is taking much longer than I thought. I needed a bit of a nap. I set up for it but couldn't sleep with potato salad on my mind. I'm sort of shooting myself in the foot, time and sleep wise, but I sort of... I am doing what I can. I realize, at times like these, that my idea of time and real time are two very different things. I do believe it has to do with my internal clock running at 165 Tera hertz or 4 mega hertz. I seem to either need to speed through everything, making time almost stand still, or I simply lose track of time and time speeds past me like the tortoise does the rabbit in the old tales, while I nap or... snooze awake. I am getting there, just... not quickly. I did need to do some cleaning first, mostly dishes, and mostly for a sense of having a space to prep. But the water for the eggs is on to boil. In about 15 minutes I'll check the water, finish the dishes, and go from their. Whenever the eggs go in I will begin peeling potatoes. Of course, in the next few minutes I really need to look at a number of recipes to see what egg to potato ratio is most common or believably best. When completed, a bit of sleep until early afternoon. I'd like the chicken to go into the oven no later than 16:00, which would give me, after the 45 minutes of roasting, an hour and fifteen minutes to fry three to four batches(?) and have everything over to the neighbors. That... should work? No, the chicken best go in by 15:30. Hmm, even then, at max of say 4 batches, in an hour and forty five minutes? About 25 minutes per batch? Yeah, that should be fine, easily. Wait, I don't need to actually cook the chicken, just crisp it. Yeah, 16:00. Never mind.
Later, or good night.
Friday, May 4, 2012
All and more.
.
.
I did make it to my appointment on time. I was a bit early, it turns out 13:30 was the time. So, a bagel and coffee was had. By then traffic had become a crush, so getting to my appointment almost seemed like it wasn't going to happen. All good though, as it turned out. I ordered a bit more hair goo, two jars this time. That way I can replace one when I run out without having to... scrape at a mostly empty jar (though I will do that anyway, it's just that I won't have to go to extreme lengths to get every last bit out as I am now). No, not vain, mostly. It's just that if I don't use goop my hair looks so off that I have to wear a cap. I don't like wearing caps unless I need sun shade or something. Oh and I asked her to dine with me again soon. She seems up for it. All good. Just... a little feminine company. It's good for the digestion... usually. :p
I then called my friend. I thought shooting would be off but... he was pretty sure it would work. While still mostly cloudy and a bit cool I agreed to it, trusting him more than believing. It actually worked out quite well. This time he got to shoot to his heart's content. On the way to the range I stopped and picked up my pistol and rifle, ammo, and I finally remembered to bring my target along. Mine isn't quite as fancy, though I think mine is sturdier... sort of. The shoot was great. And I notice my pistol seems to be... off. If it were my aim I shouldn't be able to use a pug-nosed pistol or other semi-automatics well, right? My .45 with a 5" barrel is shooting all over the place. I'll have to... do some research on that. We were going to stop and eat but I... I suppose I became distracted. Anyway, I let my friend off and headed on to the store.
A big jar of pickles for the salad and just because, eggs, potatoes, and some other such. I do believe I have everything together. The chicken is thawed, it thawed much more quickly than expected. Anyway, that will be ready for a salt soak before baking then frying tomorrow. I hope to get a largish batch of potato salad done yet tonight. At least if I forgot something a run to the store isn't going to push me or the schedule at all. I also bought enough potato rolls and cookies, enough for one/two each, with extras. Milk was on the list, as were a few other odds and ends. I have been eyeing the habanero cheddar for a while. I wasn't sure I would be up to it. Pshaw. What did they put in there, jalapenos? Still, it was sort of tasty. Peppers in cheddar makes for a very crumbly cheese, other than that it was fine. Just... not what I had hoped for, feared, expected. Either that or my tongue is tougher than I thought. No stomach troubles either, though I don't usually get that (or other... pains). I've got to admit, that corned beef I cooked before was excellent. So I got myself another. It's in the freezer for now. Maybe in a week or two. A good meal on an off night plus sandwich makings for a week. This time with beer, since it's for me? Could be.
I am cooling down, after shooting and shopping. Another hour or two, as the home cools, I hope to get started on that. A dozen eggs, two? With as much potato salad as is needed for nine, I may consult a half dozen recipes, or one that is exactly like I like it if I can find just one. I just need to find some kind of general percentage of egg to potato. The rest I can do by taste without the need to cook more of something. A few of the boiled items, in reserve, will help with that too. Fried chicken sounds delicious, to me, with the rest, but... I actually hope it cools down before then. Hot chicken on a hot night is not as good. Later.
.
I did make it to my appointment on time. I was a bit early, it turns out 13:30 was the time. So, a bagel and coffee was had. By then traffic had become a crush, so getting to my appointment almost seemed like it wasn't going to happen. All good though, as it turned out. I ordered a bit more hair goo, two jars this time. That way I can replace one when I run out without having to... scrape at a mostly empty jar (though I will do that anyway, it's just that I won't have to go to extreme lengths to get every last bit out as I am now). No, not vain, mostly. It's just that if I don't use goop my hair looks so off that I have to wear a cap. I don't like wearing caps unless I need sun shade or something. Oh and I asked her to dine with me again soon. She seems up for it. All good. Just... a little feminine company. It's good for the digestion... usually. :p
I then called my friend. I thought shooting would be off but... he was pretty sure it would work. While still mostly cloudy and a bit cool I agreed to it, trusting him more than believing. It actually worked out quite well. This time he got to shoot to his heart's content. On the way to the range I stopped and picked up my pistol and rifle, ammo, and I finally remembered to bring my target along. Mine isn't quite as fancy, though I think mine is sturdier... sort of. The shoot was great. And I notice my pistol seems to be... off. If it were my aim I shouldn't be able to use a pug-nosed pistol or other semi-automatics well, right? My .45 with a 5" barrel is shooting all over the place. I'll have to... do some research on that. We were going to stop and eat but I... I suppose I became distracted. Anyway, I let my friend off and headed on to the store.
A big jar of pickles for the salad and just because, eggs, potatoes, and some other such. I do believe I have everything together. The chicken is thawed, it thawed much more quickly than expected. Anyway, that will be ready for a salt soak before baking then frying tomorrow. I hope to get a largish batch of potato salad done yet tonight. At least if I forgot something a run to the store isn't going to push me or the schedule at all. I also bought enough potato rolls and cookies, enough for one/two each, with extras. Milk was on the list, as were a few other odds and ends. I have been eyeing the habanero cheddar for a while. I wasn't sure I would be up to it. Pshaw. What did they put in there, jalapenos? Still, it was sort of tasty. Peppers in cheddar makes for a very crumbly cheese, other than that it was fine. Just... not what I had hoped for, feared, expected. Either that or my tongue is tougher than I thought. No stomach troubles either, though I don't usually get that (or other... pains). I've got to admit, that corned beef I cooked before was excellent. So I got myself another. It's in the freezer for now. Maybe in a week or two. A good meal on an off night plus sandwich makings for a week. This time with beer, since it's for me? Could be.
I am cooling down, after shooting and shopping. Another hour or two, as the home cools, I hope to get started on that. A dozen eggs, two? With as much potato salad as is needed for nine, I may consult a half dozen recipes, or one that is exactly like I like it if I can find just one. I just need to find some kind of general percentage of egg to potato. The rest I can do by taste without the need to cook more of something. A few of the boiled items, in reserve, will help with that too. Fried chicken sounds delicious, to me, with the rest, but... I actually hope it cools down before then. Hot chicken on a hot night is not as good. Later.
I had to be up!
.
.
I didn't know if it would happen. I had someone who was supposed to be by at 11:30 and an appointment in town at 13:00, I think. But having to do something and doing something can be strange and exclusive bedfellows in my line of work. I didn't get to bed until late. Couldn't sleep until later. And, yet, I made it. Having a tomcat outside my window, meowling like he had blue-ball syndrome, at 6:00 woke me a bit. Which caused the girls to bunker down even closer... don't let him in, poppo! The girls got hungry at about 9:00 and were doing sorties over poppo for an hour or two. I finally made it out of bed just at 11:15, using two alarm clocks, a tomcat, and two hungry girls as backup. Just in time for a shower. I want a shave but didn't think I would have time. A bit of blog reading as I readied for the visitor, but he still isn't here and I have to leave in no more than 20 minutes. All good though.
I don't mind someone else being busy, late, or forgetting. I simply don't. That has been what I have done for the last 25 years and I wasn't all that good at it before I got ill, at least disability worthy ill. Doctor or dentist appointment? Where, when, can I still make it? Yesterday, you say... of last week? Right. Birthdays? Forgettaboutit. Anniversaries with lady-friends? Huh? Holidays? What do you mean it's Christmas day already? Seruslee. NO CLUE. So, I really don't judge, or get upset. But if it's time to go, I go.
Haircut day, then to buy fresh potatoes and the makings for potato salad. Potato salad will be done today. Stored in the fridge, it should last just fine, and be cool, for dinner tomorrow. I might grab some rolls too, just dinner type. My poor dill pickles are... not so good. So... pretty much... fresh everything save mayo and mustard which I have kept in good fresh supply. I best get some onions, too. I wonder if vidalias are in season? After the haircut but before shopping I will call my friend. It's damp, overcast, and cool if not cold, so shooting is probably out. Perhaps he wants to grocery shop a bit though, or has new things on one of his hardware store or other mechanical needs lists. Oh, and I argued him out of a sandwich at his favorite shop, we might go there today. It's just... they don't put on much beef. Order the double beef sandwich and for some reason you seem to get less. I suggested vegetarians work in the place. Hrmph.
All good. But it is now about time to head out. Have a good one. Oh, it might be good to note that sometimes, against all odds, things do happen anyway. It is good, for a change, to... be up, showered, dressed, and looking to be on time... for once in... weeks? Yes, sadly. Good day.
.
I didn't know if it would happen. I had someone who was supposed to be by at 11:30 and an appointment in town at 13:00, I think. But having to do something and doing something can be strange and exclusive bedfellows in my line of work. I didn't get to bed until late. Couldn't sleep until later. And, yet, I made it. Having a tomcat outside my window, meowling like he had blue-ball syndrome, at 6:00 woke me a bit. Which caused the girls to bunker down even closer... don't let him in, poppo! The girls got hungry at about 9:00 and were doing sorties over poppo for an hour or two. I finally made it out of bed just at 11:15, using two alarm clocks, a tomcat, and two hungry girls as backup. Just in time for a shower. I want a shave but didn't think I would have time. A bit of blog reading as I readied for the visitor, but he still isn't here and I have to leave in no more than 20 minutes. All good though.
I don't mind someone else being busy, late, or forgetting. I simply don't. That has been what I have done for the last 25 years and I wasn't all that good at it before I got ill, at least disability worthy ill. Doctor or dentist appointment? Where, when, can I still make it? Yesterday, you say... of last week? Right. Birthdays? Forgettaboutit. Anniversaries with lady-friends? Huh? Holidays? What do you mean it's Christmas day already? Seruslee. NO CLUE. So, I really don't judge, or get upset. But if it's time to go, I go.
Haircut day, then to buy fresh potatoes and the makings for potato salad. Potato salad will be done today. Stored in the fridge, it should last just fine, and be cool, for dinner tomorrow. I might grab some rolls too, just dinner type. My poor dill pickles are... not so good. So... pretty much... fresh everything save mayo and mustard which I have kept in good fresh supply. I best get some onions, too. I wonder if vidalias are in season? After the haircut but before shopping I will call my friend. It's damp, overcast, and cool if not cold, so shooting is probably out. Perhaps he wants to grocery shop a bit though, or has new things on one of his hardware store or other mechanical needs lists. Oh, and I argued him out of a sandwich at his favorite shop, we might go there today. It's just... they don't put on much beef. Order the double beef sandwich and for some reason you seem to get less. I suggested vegetarians work in the place. Hrmph.
All good. But it is now about time to head out. Have a good one. Oh, it might be good to note that sometimes, against all odds, things do happen anyway. It is good, for a change, to... be up, showered, dressed, and looking to be on time... for once in... weeks? Yes, sadly. Good day.
Oh, sure, I jazz.
.
.
Women. And I will until the day I die. And, rightly, pleasurably, and (to me) hysterically. But make no mistake, I respect an honest woman, wife, mother to no ends. Still, when they get that funny 'mom with hands on hips' thing going on over a minor issue, talk about dying because I forgot the milk, or get all fussy and quiet or stern about... well... me, and what I do and what else I will do until the day I die, I just gotta laugh. And, fine. If I wanted things to work, I sometimes held my laughter for another time or just kept it to myself. And I won't say I respect every woman just because she is a woman. Won't happen ever. Women can be just as wrong as men, and given a gravy train to social destruction, many have ridden that to national ruin. The modern form of feminism is as poison as socialism, a form of it actually. But a good woman is priceless. Literally.
.
Women. And I will until the day I die. And, rightly, pleasurably, and (to me) hysterically. But make no mistake, I respect an honest woman, wife, mother to no ends. Still, when they get that funny 'mom with hands on hips' thing going on over a minor issue, talk about dying because I forgot the milk, or get all fussy and quiet or stern about... well... me, and what I do and what else I will do until the day I die, I just gotta laugh. And, fine. If I wanted things to work, I sometimes held my laughter for another time or just kept it to myself. And I won't say I respect every woman just because she is a woman. Won't happen ever. Women can be just as wrong as men, and given a gravy train to social destruction, many have ridden that to national ruin. The modern form of feminism is as poison as socialism, a form of it actually. But a good woman is priceless. Literally.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Cold, dark, damp day.
.
.
I have no idea what the temp is, but along with the look and general feel, today is past a bit chilly and right into the wet cold only spring can offer. With summer a seeming distant promise, but coming, the cold of spring just seems like an insult to one's hopes. I went to bed at a reasonable hour but again could not sleep. Staying in bed, however, is preferable to getting out of bed, missing sleep when it does arrive, and driving myself into a sleepless yet unawake delirium. When it is cold, the bed is better. Curling up under the covers keeps me warmer than even blasting the furnace. On such nights I don't let the cats in. I need sleep but know it will be a struggle. I will need to roll and move and they do their best to hem me in. If I happen to wake, after sleeping a bit, I often then let them sleep with me.
Even with the furnace up a bit, getting to anything is difficult. I am sure if I could get started, I could really get some work done. It will happen sooner or later. I promised to make chicken for some people, for Saturday. Potato salad and fried chicken, that is. I have practiced a number of times so it should be good enough. For this, cast iron is excellent. A cast iron frying pan and a cast iron dutch oven, with lid, make for an easier large batch of fried chicken. Potato salad is what it is. I prefer it less sweat, more savory. Some might even say a bit dry and bland. Most seem to add sugar, sweet relish, and far more mayo than my way. A bit of dill weed or finely chopped dill pickles and a bit of juice, salt, standard yellow mustard, and perhaps smoked paprika all to taste... something like that.
Well, I should try to warm up and see if I can get to something. Later.
.
I have no idea what the temp is, but along with the look and general feel, today is past a bit chilly and right into the wet cold only spring can offer. With summer a seeming distant promise, but coming, the cold of spring just seems like an insult to one's hopes. I went to bed at a reasonable hour but again could not sleep. Staying in bed, however, is preferable to getting out of bed, missing sleep when it does arrive, and driving myself into a sleepless yet unawake delirium. When it is cold, the bed is better. Curling up under the covers keeps me warmer than even blasting the furnace. On such nights I don't let the cats in. I need sleep but know it will be a struggle. I will need to roll and move and they do their best to hem me in. If I happen to wake, after sleeping a bit, I often then let them sleep with me.
Even with the furnace up a bit, getting to anything is difficult. I am sure if I could get started, I could really get some work done. It will happen sooner or later. I promised to make chicken for some people, for Saturday. Potato salad and fried chicken, that is. I have practiced a number of times so it should be good enough. For this, cast iron is excellent. A cast iron frying pan and a cast iron dutch oven, with lid, make for an easier large batch of fried chicken. Potato salad is what it is. I prefer it less sweat, more savory. Some might even say a bit dry and bland. Most seem to add sugar, sweet relish, and far more mayo than my way. A bit of dill weed or finely chopped dill pickles and a bit of juice, salt, standard yellow mustard, and perhaps smoked paprika all to taste... something like that.
Well, I should try to warm up and see if I can get to something. Later.
How to find a woman.
.
.
I know, I know... I know nothing. Work with me. And, I know, there are scores of scores of books written on the matter, more than that probably, even parts of the bible discuss some things about men, women, and marriage. Sure. There are Game theories, there is sage advice, there is what your dad told you, and your mom said this or that, too. Most of that writing and advice has little to do with what is really the simple honest truth. Those things are to... nudge junior out of the nest.
So, how do you find a woman, and hopefully on to a wife? At least in these times, though I would guess this is the first, middle, and last method that has been used in all times. First, you go out looking. You see a woman you like. One who fits your wants and needs. You investigate whether she is interested in you, and available. If that is a positive, you start showing up. Often just a few words from time to time, sometimes not even that, just be there. If, after some period of time you can still tolerate her presence, and she yours, then you get her to set time aside for you, with you. That is about it.
For all the things I have done or tried to do, it, in retrospect, has always come down to finding the nail that will hold what I was choosing to fit together, then... hitting the nail into the danged wood until it was snug. You, by the way, can't really fix the wood once it is in place, so... measure twice (at least), hammer once. (I have been engaged, before... Measuring, you see.) Well, that is my plan. The rest is just finials, trills, mordents, and such.
That is all.
.
I know, I know... I know nothing. Work with me. And, I know, there are scores of scores of books written on the matter, more than that probably, even parts of the bible discuss some things about men, women, and marriage. Sure. There are Game theories, there is sage advice, there is what your dad told you, and your mom said this or that, too. Most of that writing and advice has little to do with what is really the simple honest truth. Those things are to... nudge junior out of the nest.
So, how do you find a woman, and hopefully on to a wife? At least in these times, though I would guess this is the first, middle, and last method that has been used in all times. First, you go out looking. You see a woman you like. One who fits your wants and needs. You investigate whether she is interested in you, and available. If that is a positive, you start showing up. Often just a few words from time to time, sometimes not even that, just be there. If, after some period of time you can still tolerate her presence, and she yours, then you get her to set time aside for you, with you. That is about it.
For all the things I have done or tried to do, it, in retrospect, has always come down to finding the nail that will hold what I was choosing to fit together, then... hitting the nail into the danged wood until it was snug. You, by the way, can't really fix the wood once it is in place, so... measure twice (at least), hammer once. (I have been engaged, before... Measuring, you see.) Well, that is my plan. The rest is just finials, trills, mordents, and such.
That is all.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
My friend thinks...
.
.
I ran into it again today, only instead of one it was a nest of young women. Oh, sure, they might have been nice, or even competitive for attention. I messed up, doing something that wasn't alpha type. And the reaction was quick. Still, I don't care. They aren't... intended... for my part. Besides that is very easy to fix. Shut up. Yeah, that's as easy as the fix can be, though I would suggest having a number of quicker and longer adjustments. We screw up a lot, remember... 30 to 40 percent success, in and out of relationships. It was three on one and I wasn't expecting it. That's all I am saying there. Oh, my friend thinks I am just seeing more than what is there. And I will, and have, conced(ed), that could be true. Just... there is a certain tone they get, a certain way they smile a little too long, a little too much eye contact, and more stuff with the eyes and lashes... I am not a woman so I don't know the whole gig. All of those things are sent at the speed of light, then gone. Any one to four of those means nothing. A half dozen or more means something. A dozen is like leaving the red light on. They were young, inexperienced, but... don't underestimate even a younger woman. A man can BE their career. Hellsyeah. I think I can spot a woman in season, or potentially in play, as good as any. The thing is... I'm trying not to lead in too much as alpha-stereotype. That is what I am avoiding. And these... far too young, not quite right, as wives, I can see this. Playing? Liking, but they don't even know quite what they like yet. Reacting. Something. But it's darned fun to play. Or maybe I am being to cautious? Dunno, yet.
In town, a bit of shopping, an attempt to get a haircut though that has been put off until Friday, a bite to eat, and home. I had been talking to my friend about fish tacos today. It turns out that is what was for dinner. What I had in town just wasn't enough and enough time had passed, plus I wanted to offer them some money. I didn't want them to have to bring it since I was arriving at an odd time, so I stopped by. I ended up being invited in to eat. A little company is always good.
I am ready to work. It just isn't happening. It is times like these when a woman, either offering her hand or well protected foot, might help. Better, a bit of hand, foot, and tongue, on the good and bad side. If a woman learns the reins, she can help guide me to more work I do believe. I've had this kind of woman before, and I did like that. Buy and prep, nag and tap the foot, and even from time to time demand that the work goes forth. All good things, for man's work. I helped her get the stuff done that I needed done to get to my part of it. It worked well for several years. If she could have had children I would have married her. She would have gotten me through college, I think. I've known some damned fine women. Better women than I am a man, they just didn't... catch me. Probably good, I still had some things to work out.
.
I ran into it again today, only instead of one it was a nest of young women. Oh, sure, they might have been nice, or even competitive for attention. I messed up, doing something that wasn't alpha type. And the reaction was quick. Still, I don't care. They aren't... intended... for my part. Besides that is very easy to fix. Shut up. Yeah, that's as easy as the fix can be, though I would suggest having a number of quicker and longer adjustments. We screw up a lot, remember... 30 to 40 percent success, in and out of relationships. It was three on one and I wasn't expecting it. That's all I am saying there. Oh, my friend thinks I am just seeing more than what is there. And I will, and have, conced(ed), that could be true. Just... there is a certain tone they get, a certain way they smile a little too long, a little too much eye contact, and more stuff with the eyes and lashes... I am not a woman so I don't know the whole gig. All of those things are sent at the speed of light, then gone. Any one to four of those means nothing. A half dozen or more means something. A dozen is like leaving the red light on. They were young, inexperienced, but... don't underestimate even a younger woman. A man can BE their career. Hellsyeah. I think I can spot a woman in season, or potentially in play, as good as any. The thing is... I'm trying not to lead in too much as alpha-stereotype. That is what I am avoiding. And these... far too young, not quite right, as wives, I can see this. Playing? Liking, but they don't even know quite what they like yet. Reacting. Something. But it's darned fun to play. Or maybe I am being to cautious? Dunno, yet.
In town, a bit of shopping, an attempt to get a haircut though that has been put off until Friday, a bite to eat, and home. I had been talking to my friend about fish tacos today. It turns out that is what was for dinner. What I had in town just wasn't enough and enough time had passed, plus I wanted to offer them some money. I didn't want them to have to bring it since I was arriving at an odd time, so I stopped by. I ended up being invited in to eat. A little company is always good.
I am ready to work. It just isn't happening. It is times like these when a woman, either offering her hand or well protected foot, might help. Better, a bit of hand, foot, and tongue, on the good and bad side. If a woman learns the reins, she can help guide me to more work I do believe. I've had this kind of woman before, and I did like that. Buy and prep, nag and tap the foot, and even from time to time demand that the work goes forth. All good things, for man's work. I helped her get the stuff done that I needed done to get to my part of it. It worked well for several years. If she could have had children I would have married her. She would have gotten me through college, I think. I've known some damned fine women. Better women than I am a man, they just didn't... catch me. Probably good, I still had some things to work out.
Bah!
.
.
I went to bed at a decent hour, well, mostly. At between 2:00 and 3:00 I hit the pillows. I could not sleep all night, mostly. At 5:00 or 6:00 or 7:00 or even later, I finally slept. Even then it was spotty. Another dream, can't remember it now but it was pretty nifty, as dreams go. My friend called a bit ago, which woke me. At least I was able to get up. Moving has been slow. A bit of reading and then putting this post together, all in an attempt to jumpstart the machine between the ears, in hopes it will get the behemoth within which it resides to grind the gears into motion.
A shower, a shave, and off to town. I am running late, slow, sluggish. Much to be expected but irritating none the less. Actually, considering the sleep problems, I am probably doing pretty good.
Oh, I keep thinking about the whole alpha thing. I won't say that is what I am, or if it is, two things. One, it is natural. I have no plans when I meet a woman with intent, things just... happen. Two, if an alpha is quantifiable, I won't always fit the index or algorithm. I do things my way. Alphas fail, often, too. As pro's, batting a 300 is good enough, and the best only bat in the 400's, which means 60 to 70 percent FAIL. That is just the way it goes. Hunters know this, no matter their stripe or even species. Lovers know this, too. And, back with baseball, for the most part home runs are a fluke that simply leads to improbable expectations. Besides, a home run will rarely win the game. Just... saying. Or... I yam what I yam, which is an inconsistent bio-machine attempting to use logic and non-logic to my best ultimate goals. Given what I have to work with, not doing too badly at it, so far, either, actually. Never mind.
Hey, look, bacon!
Have a good day.
.
I went to bed at a decent hour, well, mostly. At between 2:00 and 3:00 I hit the pillows. I could not sleep all night, mostly. At 5:00 or 6:00 or 7:00 or even later, I finally slept. Even then it was spotty. Another dream, can't remember it now but it was pretty nifty, as dreams go. My friend called a bit ago, which woke me. At least I was able to get up. Moving has been slow. A bit of reading and then putting this post together, all in an attempt to jumpstart the machine between the ears, in hopes it will get the behemoth within which it resides to grind the gears into motion.
A shower, a shave, and off to town. I am running late, slow, sluggish. Much to be expected but irritating none the less. Actually, considering the sleep problems, I am probably doing pretty good.
Oh, I keep thinking about the whole alpha thing. I won't say that is what I am, or if it is, two things. One, it is natural. I have no plans when I meet a woman with intent, things just... happen. Two, if an alpha is quantifiable, I won't always fit the index or algorithm. I do things my way. Alphas fail, often, too. As pro's, batting a 300 is good enough, and the best only bat in the 400's, which means 60 to 70 percent FAIL. That is just the way it goes. Hunters know this, no matter their stripe or even species. Lovers know this, too. And, back with baseball, for the most part home runs are a fluke that simply leads to improbable expectations. Besides, a home run will rarely win the game. Just... saying. Or... I yam what I yam, which is an inconsistent bio-machine attempting to use logic and non-logic to my best ultimate goals. Given what I have to work with, not doing too badly at it, so far, either, actually. Never mind.
Hey, look, bacon!
Have a good day.
It's about that time.
.
.
I told my friend I would be in to town tomorrow. I need to get a haircut, he needs a few things. Then again, he may ask his sister to take him. In any case I hope to be ready for a call. I couldn't make it today.
.
I told my friend I would be in to town tomorrow. I need to get a haircut, he needs a few things. Then again, he may ask his sister to take him. In any case I hope to be ready for a call. I couldn't make it today.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
The notion of a wife?
.
.
Sometimes this thing still pops into my head. Reactions from some women leave me wondering, too. While I do have some notions, the truth that I know is when you dip your toe into that type of pool you never know where you will end up. The simple, and even complex, relationships with women have shown me this. Women don't lead, they influence... and confuse. A simple drive to the store, and what you would do alone, becomes some... long drive to two or three stores, the purchase of the items you were after and food for a picnic, then a day out somewhere... rather than a quick pick-up, delivery, and... nap. A simple kiss and pat can end up with you being in traction. :p
I do need to be sure a woman is suitable. To me, one of the most difficult things in a relationship is... the nothing. It is being there, day after day, having little to say or do with or for each other other than simple duties and chores. That can become cloying, dry, empty seeming. That is where love is tested. It isn't just her that has to be prepared for that. If I seem more stuck in it bodily than ready for it, I know those times. There is no way around it. When you know each other as well as you can, you also begin to have... less favorable opinions about some to all of what your partner does or believes, at times. In a day where "grin and bear it" is insufferable, is it even possible to have a marriage? Yes, if you find a woman who has been taught these things.
Oh, and I was taken aback by that young woman the other day. If you are asking if I would marry her, the answer is... possibly. Does her fondness stay when time passes? Does she know what having and raising children is from seeing it at home? Does she know what insufferable, stale, hard bores men can be at times from knowing a father? Is she strong enough to take her own positions when her conscience calls? Does she know the difference between conscience and want? Though I would be hard pressed to start such a relationship, if I saw the cues I would begin pursuing vigorously. While I would prefer to protect such a woman, from... such a man... if the fates worked a certain way, I would do more. But not in the original intent of such thinking. Men her age, even older, are more interested in doing what I used to do. If she is seriously considering marriage, I would be offering what she wants. Of course, I would be her father's age, so... extended family dinners, let alone the initial introductions, would be quite... interesting. Potentially fatal. But for her, I would hold her hand through her father's funeral.
There are women, close and far, who have caught my eye. I keep it... clean... in my mind. I can't be distracted by the wrong woman or the wrong approach. These things start in the mind, trust me. I can't neglect myself, and if I am going to even pretend or more actually have care for this woman, I can't neglect her, either. Until she is a wife, she is a sister... or... at least... fourth cousin, twice removed, through marriage? Something. She is general kin. Or... must be treated that way. When she is my wife, she becomes a part of me. Things do... change. Oh, you wouldn't think I would know this? Fie.
Oh, sure, I fuss about women often here. I won't even say I am fair, if I will say I can be dead on correct. At least my assessments of various relationships are. I would even say I have some things down better than any psychologist, preacher, priest, and most men, but definitely better than most women. Simply by the numbers. Knowing more women intimately than most men or women have known in such a way as to know their middle name... sort of lends perspective. Actually the thing I fear most about taking a bride is knowing I will have to deal with her inanity as she grows up. Women simply aren't logical, there is no more a guide that works for any of them all the time, or even some of them some of the time, then there is an algorithm that will get you rich quick in the stock markets. Heck, stocks are much more linearly functional. And yet, it is that grounding that... I don't know... lends to a new lease on life and adds a deeper, less selfish, perspective. And beauty seen in no other way. Every woman I have known goes through this. It never goes away, from what I have seen. I'm not sure if those are tests of love or hormonal issues, both, or even other things. Of course, those times tend to end the monotony. Hmm, that might be exactly what they are either a symptom or relief from... the required occasional boredom. And... it can be cute should you keep your wits about you (and bite your damned tongue!). Heh.
Never mind, just... thinking. Thoughts tumble sometimes. Hope blooms ever eternal. And women are gorgeous creatures, more so when they forget about such things. I have God on one shoulder, the devil on the other, and they are both pointing in the same direction. Huh? *Ruh-Rho!*
Good night.
.
Sometimes this thing still pops into my head. Reactions from some women leave me wondering, too. While I do have some notions, the truth that I know is when you dip your toe into that type of pool you never know where you will end up. The simple, and even complex, relationships with women have shown me this. Women don't lead, they influence... and confuse. A simple drive to the store, and what you would do alone, becomes some... long drive to two or three stores, the purchase of the items you were after and food for a picnic, then a day out somewhere... rather than a quick pick-up, delivery, and... nap. A simple kiss and pat can end up with you being in traction. :p
I do need to be sure a woman is suitable. To me, one of the most difficult things in a relationship is... the nothing. It is being there, day after day, having little to say or do with or for each other other than simple duties and chores. That can become cloying, dry, empty seeming. That is where love is tested. It isn't just her that has to be prepared for that. If I seem more stuck in it bodily than ready for it, I know those times. There is no way around it. When you know each other as well as you can, you also begin to have... less favorable opinions about some to all of what your partner does or believes, at times. In a day where "grin and bear it" is insufferable, is it even possible to have a marriage? Yes, if you find a woman who has been taught these things.
Oh, and I was taken aback by that young woman the other day. If you are asking if I would marry her, the answer is... possibly. Does her fondness stay when time passes? Does she know what having and raising children is from seeing it at home? Does she know what insufferable, stale, hard bores men can be at times from knowing a father? Is she strong enough to take her own positions when her conscience calls? Does she know the difference between conscience and want? Though I would be hard pressed to start such a relationship, if I saw the cues I would begin pursuing vigorously. While I would prefer to protect such a woman, from... such a man... if the fates worked a certain way, I would do more. But not in the original intent of such thinking. Men her age, even older, are more interested in doing what I used to do. If she is seriously considering marriage, I would be offering what she wants. Of course, I would be her father's age, so... extended family dinners, let alone the initial introductions, would be quite... interesting. Potentially fatal. But for her, I would hold her hand through her father's funeral.
There are women, close and far, who have caught my eye. I keep it... clean... in my mind. I can't be distracted by the wrong woman or the wrong approach. These things start in the mind, trust me. I can't neglect myself, and if I am going to even pretend or more actually have care for this woman, I can't neglect her, either. Until she is a wife, she is a sister... or... at least... fourth cousin, twice removed, through marriage? Something. She is general kin. Or... must be treated that way. When she is my wife, she becomes a part of me. Things do... change. Oh, you wouldn't think I would know this? Fie.
Oh, sure, I fuss about women often here. I won't even say I am fair, if I will say I can be dead on correct. At least my assessments of various relationships are. I would even say I have some things down better than any psychologist, preacher, priest, and most men, but definitely better than most women. Simply by the numbers. Knowing more women intimately than most men or women have known in such a way as to know their middle name... sort of lends perspective. Actually the thing I fear most about taking a bride is knowing I will have to deal with her inanity as she grows up. Women simply aren't logical, there is no more a guide that works for any of them all the time, or even some of them some of the time, then there is an algorithm that will get you rich quick in the stock markets. Heck, stocks are much more linearly functional. And yet, it is that grounding that... I don't know... lends to a new lease on life and adds a deeper, less selfish, perspective. And beauty seen in no other way. Every woman I have known goes through this. It never goes away, from what I have seen. I'm not sure if those are tests of love or hormonal issues, both, or even other things. Of course, those times tend to end the monotony. Hmm, that might be exactly what they are either a symptom or relief from... the required occasional boredom. And... it can be cute should you keep your wits about you (and bite your damned tongue!). Heh.
Never mind, just... thinking. Thoughts tumble sometimes. Hope blooms ever eternal. And women are gorgeous creatures, more so when they forget about such things. I have God on one shoulder, the devil on the other, and they are both pointing in the same direction. Huh? *Ruh-Rho!*
Good night.
Naps are G-g-g-great!
.
.
Just an hour or two, a bit of it actually sleeping, makes for a perfect nap. I still worry that a nap could morph into a giant sleep sink-hole. Still, when it is required, it is done.
The weather seems to have evened off. Though clouds remain, they hold none of the anger of nature they roared with this morning, that and there are fewer of them. All good for a pleasant afternoon and on into evening.
I wrote an epic song in my dreams. Good? Well, it wasn't bad. I even had the score worked out, if not something I could put to musical score paper, it was something I could have... sort of... hinted at in a demo. All gone shortly after waking, and probably better for it. What would I do with ka-trillions of dollars in royalties? Oh, dream big ladies and gents, dream big. No, my dream never went that way anyway. I actually offered it up for free, with a few caveats. One, they had to do it my way. Two, if it became a commercial success then a little tribute in the form of gold would be nice. And third, if it was really successful, and they wanted more, that tribute best be worth it and the next song would be negotiated based on all that. I even had some Finnish or Swedish operatic goth band take the song and do it my way. I never did get to hear it though. Ah well.
Hmm, on to some work.
.
Just an hour or two, a bit of it actually sleeping, makes for a perfect nap. I still worry that a nap could morph into a giant sleep sink-hole. Still, when it is required, it is done.
The weather seems to have evened off. Though clouds remain, they hold none of the anger of nature they roared with this morning, that and there are fewer of them. All good for a pleasant afternoon and on into evening.
I wrote an epic song in my dreams. Good? Well, it wasn't bad. I even had the score worked out, if not something I could put to musical score paper, it was something I could have... sort of... hinted at in a demo. All gone shortly after waking, and probably better for it. What would I do with ka-trillions of dollars in royalties? Oh, dream big ladies and gents, dream big. No, my dream never went that way anyway. I actually offered it up for free, with a few caveats. One, they had to do it my way. Two, if it became a commercial success then a little tribute in the form of gold would be nice. And third, if it was really successful, and they wanted more, that tribute best be worth it and the next song would be negotiated based on all that. I even had some Finnish or Swedish operatic goth band take the song and do it my way. I never did get to hear it though. Ah well.
Hmm, on to some work.
A bit of relief from the haunting feeling.
.
.
Nope, so far everyone is still alive. One more call, but the worrisome cases have been dealt with. What a thing, the shadow of death. Not for me, for you, my love.
The beauty of days like today is that there are constants, powerful ones, and yet much more. The balance shifts between shades of light and dark, crisp vistas and fuzzy visions. There is motion on a grand scale, highlighted in a way no more possibly potently than by the stone steadfastness of the seemingly impossibly stationary nature of mountains over and around which the movement is contrasted.
With a bit of peace I may now get on to something important. The grass is too wet to mow, it has been raining off and on for several days, so that is out. I don't want to mess with wet logs, so sawing is out. I don't feel up to shifting the bedrooms around right now. That leaves... uhrm... what does that leave? ... ... ... Oh, right, a NAP... yeah, a nap. Definitely nap time! I may have become a weakling but naps make it all better. :p
Good afternoon. Wow, and it really is afternoon. Noice!
.
Nope, so far everyone is still alive. One more call, but the worrisome cases have been dealt with. What a thing, the shadow of death. Not for me, for you, my love.
The beauty of days like today is that there are constants, powerful ones, and yet much more. The balance shifts between shades of light and dark, crisp vistas and fuzzy visions. There is motion on a grand scale, highlighted in a way no more possibly potently than by the stone steadfastness of the seemingly impossibly stationary nature of mountains over and around which the movement is contrasted.
With a bit of peace I may now get on to something important. The grass is too wet to mow, it has been raining off and on for several days, so that is out. I don't want to mess with wet logs, so sawing is out. I don't feel up to shifting the bedrooms around right now. That leaves... uhrm... what does that leave? ... ... ... Oh, right, a NAP... yeah, a nap. Definitely nap time! I may have become a weakling but naps make it all better. :p
Good afternoon. Wow, and it really is afternoon. Noice!
Shadows of doubt.
.
.
That song, Silent Lucidity, really struck a nerve. The chorus is what got to me, but some of the other parts added in. I used to say, however heretically, 'Yeah though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for I am the meanest S.O.B. in the valley'. There were always at least two things wrong with that, of course. And I never believed anyway. First, no one is that tough. And, of course, you don't get to the valley alone. Leaving alone, even if it all works out as one proposes, is a hard thing. Anyway, I decided to make some calls, just to make sure some of those people for whom I have concern and contact information were still above ground. A shadow passed over my heart, I had to check. I have a few more calls to connect. I guess I have too many whom are with me though I cannot see. Too many. Shadows. Fear.
Perhaps, though, too... it is my time coming. I don't fear that, as I have said, in the ways someone who has not been there fears death. Much like someone who has never been in deep water might fear what will never transpire, who goes on to learn what there really is to fear. Only, with death, there is no way to avoid the things that you might really have cause for concern. If you fear deep water, and find real cause to fear it, you can avoid it. And yet my fears are not that great, more concern than fear. Well, and a bit of fear about that tearing that must take place to cause one to... slip away. It can hurt, a lot. Still, I will miss this ol' place. I have grown rather accustomed to it.
That chill though. It can be so powerful. Even one successful call has put my mind to ease. Just the musings, or remembrances, of a long lived, fully experienced, man I suppose. Ah, all good. It would not be good to live in a world without fearing the loss of loved ones. That would mean one has no love, wouldn't it? What could death hold that no love here would cause one to fear?
Later.
.
That song, Silent Lucidity, really struck a nerve. The chorus is what got to me, but some of the other parts added in. I used to say, however heretically, 'Yeah though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for I am the meanest S.O.B. in the valley'. There were always at least two things wrong with that, of course. And I never believed anyway. First, no one is that tough. And, of course, you don't get to the valley alone. Leaving alone, even if it all works out as one proposes, is a hard thing. Anyway, I decided to make some calls, just to make sure some of those people for whom I have concern and contact information were still above ground. A shadow passed over my heart, I had to check. I have a few more calls to connect. I guess I have too many whom are with me though I cannot see. Too many. Shadows. Fear.
Perhaps, though, too... it is my time coming. I don't fear that, as I have said, in the ways someone who has not been there fears death. Much like someone who has never been in deep water might fear what will never transpire, who goes on to learn what there really is to fear. Only, with death, there is no way to avoid the things that you might really have cause for concern. If you fear deep water, and find real cause to fear it, you can avoid it. And yet my fears are not that great, more concern than fear. Well, and a bit of fear about that tearing that must take place to cause one to... slip away. It can hurt, a lot. Still, I will miss this ol' place. I have grown rather accustomed to it.
That chill though. It can be so powerful. Even one successful call has put my mind to ease. Just the musings, or remembrances, of a long lived, fully experienced, man I suppose. Ah, all good. It would not be good to live in a world without fearing the loss of loved ones. That would mean one has no love, wouldn't it? What could death hold that no love here would cause one to fear?
Later.
Not bad.
.
.
Still, all truth told, getting up early is a matter of going to bed early. Going to bed early has something to do with being able to sleep at all. And being able to sleep seems to be a very small part science and a very large heaping dose of art. That with me being a philistine in the matters of art (at least I can hammer a damn nail, though, though I suppose, technically, that... hammers the definition to a fine point). I went to bed just before 2:00. There was some rolling, trying to find the physical and mental spot from which to launch the great experiment called sleep. I must have hit it pretty quickly. Waking this morning, I thought the clock suggested it was 15:00 or something. Well, and it might have. We lost power last night and not all of my clocks are on 24-hour (as I would prefer them). In truth I woke just after 9:00. All good.
It seemed darker when I first woke. Then again, here surrounded by a maw of mountains at this time of day, and being partly cloudy, the truth of the matter was deceiving. While it is partly cloudy, there are large enough breaks in the overcast skies to clearly see blue, and sun. More, the clouds aren't a mere bank of gray fluff. They are a tumultuous tumble of weather beauty. I opened the curtains first thing, I need to remember to do that more often. There is nothing like the sun occasionally kissing the still white crowns of this peak or that. The weather, mountains, wind, and sun all jumbled into large glass of vistas from which to drink in powerful natural glory.
Dreams. Shark! I dreamed of, 'somehow', being talked into parachuting with a group. It wasn't a simple jump, chute, and land. The idea was to parachute into the ocean, do some diving, and then retreat to camp for a bonfire friendly beach party. Nothing I would ever consider doing, of course. *nudge... to any considering this to twist my arm to get me to go* In any case, it was going... swimmingly. We all made it to the lz on time, loaded up, and headed out. The ride to the dz was splendid. Good conversation (mostly due to headset communications, planes being loud), friendly nervousness, and all. The drop was fine. We had a clear(ish) day, partly cloudy but in the 90% sunny range (or perfect in my way of seeing things). I was the first one to hit down. A good landing. I don't know about the others because, as I landed and got my gear stowed... shark! Not a little one, either. Great white, I knew it by size and some other things, right off. And it was coming right at me.
So, what do you do? I have no idea, but what I did was to align myself with the top of the water, aimed right at the beast, and put my hands on it's snout. I kept them there, and somehow kept my body out of it's mouth. Just do it! When it slowed enough that I could use my left hand, I began beating on that snout. I may have grabbed for an eye, too. It worked, the beast left off, retreating. By that time the rest of the crew were in the water with me, and none too happy about it all. Still, our boat would not be arriving for an half hour. No one knew what to do, including me to be honest. However, no one was stepping up so I interjected. I had the women get in a tighter central circle, making sure they would use their goggles and snorkels to watch for a shark(s) from below. I put the men on the perimeter, and went over with all of them what I had done (though offering no promises that what I did was right, only that it seemed to work).
I also suggested that any man who felt he could not do this join the women in the center circle. One man did, which while I didn't like it, I would rather have only defenders who would defend on the perimeter, rather than have the shark charge the center and get possibly more than one woman. The shark didn't come back during that time. The boat arrived and I had the women board first, then the defenders, then the man who could not, would not, defend last. As it was coming the non-defender's turn, the shark came back. I actually did jump in to save him (he better not have been queer, I hate white-knighting that type of thing). Oh, and I didn't do it just for him, I sort of... got a thrill. It ended up that they were able to bring the boat around and help beat off the shark with gaffs and poles and such, as well the shark was not charging and had slowed to a mere crawl, so my work was much less exciting this second time. Shaken but not bitten, I suppose, we went on to enjoy a long night of revelry of life. I bet I got lucky. :p
Never mind. Just... if you are going to dream, dream well?
Later, and good day.
.
Still, all truth told, getting up early is a matter of going to bed early. Going to bed early has something to do with being able to sleep at all. And being able to sleep seems to be a very small part science and a very large heaping dose of art. That with me being a philistine in the matters of art (at least I can hammer a damn nail, though, though I suppose, technically, that... hammers the definition to a fine point). I went to bed just before 2:00. There was some rolling, trying to find the physical and mental spot from which to launch the great experiment called sleep. I must have hit it pretty quickly. Waking this morning, I thought the clock suggested it was 15:00 or something. Well, and it might have. We lost power last night and not all of my clocks are on 24-hour (as I would prefer them). In truth I woke just after 9:00. All good.
It seemed darker when I first woke. Then again, here surrounded by a maw of mountains at this time of day, and being partly cloudy, the truth of the matter was deceiving. While it is partly cloudy, there are large enough breaks in the overcast skies to clearly see blue, and sun. More, the clouds aren't a mere bank of gray fluff. They are a tumultuous tumble of weather beauty. I opened the curtains first thing, I need to remember to do that more often. There is nothing like the sun occasionally kissing the still white crowns of this peak or that. The weather, mountains, wind, and sun all jumbled into large glass of vistas from which to drink in powerful natural glory.
Dreams. Shark! I dreamed of, 'somehow', being talked into parachuting with a group. It wasn't a simple jump, chute, and land. The idea was to parachute into the ocean, do some diving, and then retreat to camp for a bonfire friendly beach party. Nothing I would ever consider doing, of course. *nudge... to any considering this to twist my arm to get me to go* In any case, it was going... swimmingly. We all made it to the lz on time, loaded up, and headed out. The ride to the dz was splendid. Good conversation (mostly due to headset communications, planes being loud), friendly nervousness, and all. The drop was fine. We had a clear(ish) day, partly cloudy but in the 90% sunny range (or perfect in my way of seeing things). I was the first one to hit down. A good landing. I don't know about the others because, as I landed and got my gear stowed... shark! Not a little one, either. Great white, I knew it by size and some other things, right off. And it was coming right at me.
So, what do you do? I have no idea, but what I did was to align myself with the top of the water, aimed right at the beast, and put my hands on it's snout. I kept them there, and somehow kept my body out of it's mouth. Just do it! When it slowed enough that I could use my left hand, I began beating on that snout. I may have grabbed for an eye, too. It worked, the beast left off, retreating. By that time the rest of the crew were in the water with me, and none too happy about it all. Still, our boat would not be arriving for an half hour. No one knew what to do, including me to be honest. However, no one was stepping up so I interjected. I had the women get in a tighter central circle, making sure they would use their goggles and snorkels to watch for a shark(s) from below. I put the men on the perimeter, and went over with all of them what I had done (though offering no promises that what I did was right, only that it seemed to work).
I also suggested that any man who felt he could not do this join the women in the center circle. One man did, which while I didn't like it, I would rather have only defenders who would defend on the perimeter, rather than have the shark charge the center and get possibly more than one woman. The shark didn't come back during that time. The boat arrived and I had the women board first, then the defenders, then the man who could not, would not, defend last. As it was coming the non-defender's turn, the shark came back. I actually did jump in to save him (he better not have been queer, I hate white-knighting that type of thing). Oh, and I didn't do it just for him, I sort of... got a thrill. It ended up that they were able to bring the boat around and help beat off the shark with gaffs and poles and such, as well the shark was not charging and had slowed to a mere crawl, so my work was much less exciting this second time. Shaken but not bitten, I suppose, we went on to enjoy a long night of revelry of life. I bet I got lucky. :p
Never mind. Just... if you are going to dream, dream well?
Later, and good day.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Oh, possible confusion.
.
.
You may or may not remember the song Heavy in Your Arms, by Florence and The Machine. Many people go away from that with the wrong impression. Or, at least one different from mine. I actually have enjoyed such loves, and greatly, in the past. I wouldn't want to marry into it, but for a time it is a rather romantic type of thing, somewhat exciting for a number of reasons (which you will have to figure out for yourself). Well, at least if you can bear the weight of a recalcitrant woman. I can. Then again I'm sort of into the whole, real, goth thing. Yes, very idealized romanticism come to life. Of course, there can be the downside. In this, click over to about 4:16, with the climax at about 6:46 (skip the overt hyper-pop-goth crap). Well, all I am saying is the two songs seem to... represent a unique romantic experience. Well, not unique, more like somewhat rare (and better that way). It was better than the No Doubt song type romance though, imho.
.
You may or may not remember the song Heavy in Your Arms, by Florence and The Machine. Many people go away from that with the wrong impression. Or, at least one different from mine. I actually have enjoyed such loves, and greatly, in the past. I wouldn't want to marry into it, but for a time it is a rather romantic type of thing, somewhat exciting for a number of reasons (which you will have to figure out for yourself). Well, at least if you can bear the weight of a recalcitrant woman. I can. Then again I'm sort of into the whole, real, goth thing. Yes, very idealized romanticism come to life. Of course, there can be the downside. In this, click over to about 4:16, with the climax at about 6:46 (skip the overt hyper-pop-goth crap). Well, all I am saying is the two songs seem to... represent a unique romantic experience. Well, not unique, more like somewhat rare (and better that way). It was better than the No Doubt song type romance though, imho.
Shooting.
.
.
I definitely need practice. I did notice, today, that for me to hit a darned thing (with three-dot sights), both on my pistol and my friend's pistols, I have to raise the center dot a goodly bit, then play with it around there. Even closer range targets. What I absolutely have to do is put my foot down and get my target-board up, staple targets on it, and work it out at various ranges. My friend shoots level, level, above the dot. It is irritating to consistently miss a can at 20 yards! When I practice I eventually get back into hitting the durned thing every time, or close to it. Target shooting, real paper target shooting, would allow me to speed that process up. However, with the .22 rifle I can hit a 12 gauge shell out as far as I can see them, every time, give or take. And I can pretty much shoot a can out as far as the effective range of the rifle. *bink, bim, bonk* Thar she blows, Captain.
I just missed the sun, getting home. I was going to mow. I will do that and the sawing tomorrow, and probably more. I seem to be getting my feet back under me. It didn't hurt to have a mostly sunny day. Being cool helped though too. Returning my friend to town I believe I saw a sign say it was 59 F. It felt a good deal warmer, but then the sun can fool you that way, even in the shade to a degree. From the sounds of it we will get another day or two of sun then the weather will close in again. Yeah, well, I best get the mowing done and the sawing completed and stacked. I have other things one could say I should be doing first, but those other chores are either more time dependent or were on the list first. Not that it always works that way, it's just that cleaning, sorting, searching, storing, and such is so stinking annoying. I need to use some, if minor, real muscle, for a bit. Maybe that will induce me to put up with more of the muscleless work. Gahk!
I may get some sorting, storing, cleaning and such done tonight yet. I'm... doing good. Even just a bit of it would be nice, just to have knocked out and ready for the next little bit, or lot of work, whatever comes my way. Work, for me, is like rain. You just never know how much you'll get, how long it will take, or even the exact fallout from that. Bah!
Later.
.
I definitely need practice. I did notice, today, that for me to hit a darned thing (with three-dot sights), both on my pistol and my friend's pistols, I have to raise the center dot a goodly bit, then play with it around there. Even closer range targets. What I absolutely have to do is put my foot down and get my target-board up, staple targets on it, and work it out at various ranges. My friend shoots level, level, above the dot. It is irritating to consistently miss a can at 20 yards! When I practice I eventually get back into hitting the durned thing every time, or close to it. Target shooting, real paper target shooting, would allow me to speed that process up. However, with the .22 rifle I can hit a 12 gauge shell out as far as I can see them, every time, give or take. And I can pretty much shoot a can out as far as the effective range of the rifle. *bink, bim, bonk* Thar she blows, Captain.
I just missed the sun, getting home. I was going to mow. I will do that and the sawing tomorrow, and probably more. I seem to be getting my feet back under me. It didn't hurt to have a mostly sunny day. Being cool helped though too. Returning my friend to town I believe I saw a sign say it was 59 F. It felt a good deal warmer, but then the sun can fool you that way, even in the shade to a degree. From the sounds of it we will get another day or two of sun then the weather will close in again. Yeah, well, I best get the mowing done and the sawing completed and stacked. I have other things one could say I should be doing first, but those other chores are either more time dependent or were on the list first. Not that it always works that way, it's just that cleaning, sorting, searching, storing, and such is so stinking annoying. I need to use some, if minor, real muscle, for a bit. Maybe that will induce me to put up with more of the muscleless work. Gahk!
I may get some sorting, storing, cleaning and such done tonight yet. I'm... doing good. Even just a bit of it would be nice, just to have knocked out and ready for the next little bit, or lot of work, whatever comes my way. Work, for me, is like rain. You just never know how much you'll get, how long it will take, or even the exact fallout from that. Bah!
Later.
Target practice.
.
.
My friend called and it seems he would like to go shooting. Okay, I can do that. He woke me slightly after noon, which was just about the perfect time. No, I won't get mowing finished probably. I will be doing good to get a shower, dressed, and there in a timely manner. Probably.
My sleep is all weird. I can't sleep for hours, and yet my need to sleep will see me in bed trying to sleep. I can't do much else until I get some sleep, so, eventually, I do sleep. Then I sleep for a relatively short period, then back at whatever I can do. I do chalk some of it up to the spring weather we are having. Gloomy days followed by bright and shiny days, hours, moments. My nervous system simply doesn't quite know which cue to take.
My blood pressure is rather static. Within a few points, it is staying right at 205/133. That's... not good. Hmm, when I get back I'll reset my two-week medicine cache, at lower doses. I also will probably only start with two of my medicines. I know which ones are important. And since I have no signs of edema I can skip the water pill for the first two weeks. I can probably also cut that a goodly bit, taking half of what I used to take. For whatever reason I am drinking a heck of a lot less now, again. Maybe the medicines make me extra thirsty, or something else was going on. If I can manage my thirst better this time, I will. Then again, when I first started those I received very high doses due to excessive edema. This time is different. I can sneak it in at a much lower dose.
So, what to take. I definitely need to practice with the .45. Lord knows my pistol has been a patient pup. Thankfully she doesn't die when I don't feed her. She also doesn't obey as well. I'll need to retrain her to swing onto my target all over again. My .22 rifle will be the other shooter that goes along. I just love to shoot that one. I doubt if I will need too much practice with her, though maybe. I hope my friend brings his new 9 mm along. I'm curious how well it shoots. It points moderately well in the hand, if it isn't exactly quite my fit. Then again, it isn't my gun. As they say buy the gun that works for you, then practice. Which is what he did. I best get going.
Have a good day.
Ah, but first, for your listening pleasure...
Just the way of things. Mercy is only available after victory, innit.
.
My friend called and it seems he would like to go shooting. Okay, I can do that. He woke me slightly after noon, which was just about the perfect time. No, I won't get mowing finished probably. I will be doing good to get a shower, dressed, and there in a timely manner. Probably.
My sleep is all weird. I can't sleep for hours, and yet my need to sleep will see me in bed trying to sleep. I can't do much else until I get some sleep, so, eventually, I do sleep. Then I sleep for a relatively short period, then back at whatever I can do. I do chalk some of it up to the spring weather we are having. Gloomy days followed by bright and shiny days, hours, moments. My nervous system simply doesn't quite know which cue to take.
My blood pressure is rather static. Within a few points, it is staying right at 205/133. That's... not good. Hmm, when I get back I'll reset my two-week medicine cache, at lower doses. I also will probably only start with two of my medicines. I know which ones are important. And since I have no signs of edema I can skip the water pill for the first two weeks. I can probably also cut that a goodly bit, taking half of what I used to take. For whatever reason I am drinking a heck of a lot less now, again. Maybe the medicines make me extra thirsty, or something else was going on. If I can manage my thirst better this time, I will. Then again, when I first started those I received very high doses due to excessive edema. This time is different. I can sneak it in at a much lower dose.
So, what to take. I definitely need to practice with the .45. Lord knows my pistol has been a patient pup. Thankfully she doesn't die when I don't feed her. She also doesn't obey as well. I'll need to retrain her to swing onto my target all over again. My .22 rifle will be the other shooter that goes along. I just love to shoot that one. I doubt if I will need too much practice with her, though maybe. I hope my friend brings his new 9 mm along. I'm curious how well it shoots. It points moderately well in the hand, if it isn't exactly quite my fit. Then again, it isn't my gun. As they say buy the gun that works for you, then practice. Which is what he did. I best get going.
Have a good day.
Ah, but first, for your listening pleasure...
Just the way of things. Mercy is only available after victory, innit.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)