Oh, caught it!

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I had turned off my phone's ability to check my email.  After thinking some things over, I decided to change some passwords tonight.  Ten minutes after doing so, my phone sends me a warning.  Apparently, it is having trouble doing what I have done everything in my power to keep it from doing... checking my email.  Now, the thing is, while it says it can't check my email, it hasn't been showing that it has been doing so.  When I open up gmail, I have to refresh to see if there is any new email.  So... who is getting the updates on my gmail account, if I am not?  Damned little monsters. 

Old tech, much more advanced, in several areas, now.

After searching for any way to make it so gmail doesn't try to check, and failing, for now I have the device set to not accept anything.  I doubt if that really works, it simply won't tell me what it is doing or trying to do.  I am not sure I will continue to use gmail, on my phone, if I can't find a way to keep it from checking.  It has as much to do with privacy as it does with control and battery usage.  If I am going to mess with tech, I want to at least try to be in charge.  Yeah, good luck, I hear you.

To a friend, for my part.

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Well, I liked it too.  I was a bit shy, at one time, and would have preferred to stay that way.  It wasn't to be.  Some part remained shy, innocent.  I locked it away until it was time to try to release even that, but my way, or... the right way.  Still, that wasn't my public lot.  For some, it is all they knew.

Hard truths on this Christmas day.

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A bit of humor.

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It might be over the line for some of you, in some ways.  I know I had to shake my head a time or two, albeit I have been at least as guilty.  I take church, when I go, a bit more seriously though.  I actually really enjoy church, if often I have no idea what is going on, what is next, where to find it, or how to do it.  That part... is a strain.  But I do stay focused.  Still, I do know folk like him.  I suppose, had I been younger to join, I might have gone through that phase there.

Added another, if not of religious notions...  A little message, though, to some.

Quinoa, part two.

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I finally did buy a very fine chinois.  Now, I suppose I could have gone with a lesser device.  The problem is, with less cost came less volume.  My hands are like sausages.  Oh, they don't look like it, oddly.  They seem to be fine, for the size, delicate almost.  I can hide a quarter with my thumb, for perspective.  So, reaching in to mess with stuff in a small device is, well, either very uncomfortable, often untenable, sometimes simply impossible.  The other thing about buying a fine enough device is that purer sauces may be made.

My goal for this year?  More cooking.  Using more humble foods, but not just living on rice cakes and sawdust, either.  How can you make an inexpensive cut of meat, or even a vegetable or grain meal, better?  Sauces!  Cook shoeleather to a tender state, add the right sauce, and you would be surprised.  The best sauces come from stocks.  I don't prefer vegetable stocks, but chicken, beef, lamb, venison... basically any foul or stock yard critter can make for a superior stock, which makes for a super sauce, gravy, or such.  And, once learned, sauces are among the easiest things to make, if there are many steps from stock to dish.  But those steps are separated through time, and can be done, to a degree I don't functionally understand quite yet, in batches. I have much to learn.  I have the rest of my life to learn and little else I can do. 

Oh, but the thing is, the chinois I purchased is that it is perfect for washing the rind, or husk, or whatever is on quinoa.  It does take a bit, but if you just play with it like a game, it seems to take no time at all.  I must admit, I was a bit fearful.  That first batch I made of it, long ago, was horrible.  I can't remember what all was wrong, because I took a bite, maybe two or three to be sure, then spit it all out, tossed the remnants, and swore the stuff off as a no-go.  Ignorance, is all.

I cooked it just as I do rice.  Two and a half doses of water, let it get to a boil under a lid, lift the lid after it the water is boiling, let it get down to only a bit of water in the bottom, stirring occasionally throughout, then turning off the heat and letting it steam out the last of the moisture not being absorbed.  As with my rice, I think I did this flawlessly.  And the results were quite pleasing.

So, what does quinoa taste like?  It is the oddest durned stuff I have ever eaten.  It has a slight "green" taste to it.  I'm thinking like a very mild green... turnip tops, mild spinach, you get the idea.  But it has a bit of a crunch to it, like fried rice, or small bits of bean.  It is the oddest looking grain, when cooked, as well.  It looks like very tiny shrimp, or... fern tips without the green color.  The type I purchased is tawny, even golden.  A bit of butter (unnecessary all the time), a touch of salt to the finished product, and down the hatch with a whimsical smile as one of the first results.  It is a satisfying meal.  A complete protein, from a grain?  Yes indeed.  I may have to store some of that.  It is spendy though, so I will need to look for deals on it.  That said, it has the Doom seal of approval.  I am going to have to see what all will work with it, including desserts perhaps.

My next taste treat for this (still) Christmas holiday?  Well, beside duck?  Clotted cream.  I'll... let you know how that works out.  Oh, I know, crazy stuff.  Doom is a fool, but a curious, inventive, active one, when I can be. 

Merry Christmas!

Yes, yes, life is good.

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It is still, by my celebration method, still Christmas.  Twelve days of celebration.  Prayer, thought, music, joy, and feasting.  I have consumed my beef roast.  I will be thawing a duck next.  I may even try to make duck stock.  Really, save for a minor little spot of trouble, mostly from being weary of carrying specific water for those who don't understand, and a spot of the blues, this has been a post-card Christmas.  The Spirit is here, even in the rough times, perhaps especially then with a little help from friends and family.

The miracle of Christ is a shared one.  Men know part of it.  We know of birth, and children, and watching them live and grow and learn.  Directly or indirectly, when we have come to God I think we come to this also, even if from various distances.  Just that He was born, and lived, is a part of the miracle that is missed.  Ah, I have heard, but everybody was born, and lives or lived.  Right?  Well, no.  Look at all of the mass of all of the worlds we know to be uninhabited.  That, my friends, was not born and does not, has not, and will not live.  Perspective.  Miracles.  The miracle goes on from there, but surely that was the start, the first part of it.

Oh, for your mental health's sake, yes, I am taking my medication rightly.  I did miss a day or two, until two of you piped up.  Thank you, by the way.  And, for any of you who are angry with me?  Rightly or mistakenly?  You are quite welcome to pipe up!  I wish to clear any wrong air.  If I am wrong, I wish to clarify, apologize.  If you misunderstood, I wish to set that right.  Righteous anger is welcome here.  At worst, we will learn some small differences.  At best, we will learn to communicate better.  I can't see a loss.  I don't bite, not those who choose Wisdom.  Not even those who don't, if I will bark.  Barking and pain are warnings, not punishment, even so.  I don't like to bite.  I am very good at it, but it isn't the best of choices until it is the only choice.

Loverly!  I am hoping to figure things out, and get to things, but I think... that will have to wait until I am titrated to full doses of medicine and that is settled.  I will continue to try to get ahead.  It probably won't work, quite yet.  But it will save me from dropping too far behind.  I see the doc sometime in January.  Both of them actually?  They will probably be taking me up to full dose, which... not matter what... is going to hurt.  Just not as badly as when I was doing it, I think.  Another bit of time to try to regain focus.  Perhaps it is too deep into winter, with too little sun, for me to do a full recovery until spring.  We will see.  I am hoping to get enough going to begin seedlings again this year.  But... I want to get them kicked off in January or February this year.  They were simply too small last year, when I planted them.  Learning, bit by bit.

Oh, good day and, again, Merry Christmas!

Trying to keep private.

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Checking my email, something kept getting in my way.  I decided to read before killing, this time.  It was an offer to allow google to update my computer, to let me know when I have mail.  Convenient?  Possibly, if I received much email.  Most email I receive is a blog comment notification.  Even if I received a ton of mail, I would not allow google onto my machine any more than they already are.  I don't allow my smart phone to access anything, or... that is the goal.  If I want to check my email, I will.  I also have one of the cameras covered, and am looking into ways to cover the other camera.  I would create a sound kill-switch, too, for the mic, if I could.  They aren't just "catching" your emails, or "recording your phone calls", they are peeping in.  The only reason more of this hasn't come out is that it scares the crap out of everyone involved, on many fronts.  It isn't just the government, either.

I may just go to a landphone and dump my cell.  I'll keep the contract, but just for my mother's phone.  I am trying to back out of everything, for now.  I learned to keep my phone off, long ago.  But that is not enough.  I've noticed that, other than pulling the battery, the thing isn't dead.  Further, even with airplane mode and some other things set, the monster drains batteries like a beast.  It must have to work extra hard to get out my location information, and send mic and possibly photo data.  Believe what you will, but it is listening, or... someone is.  And tracking.  Especially if you are all politically incorrect, think for yourself, don't buy what you are sold.

Just... some thoughts. 

I didn't call my mother on Christmas.  Not sure how I forgot that.  Drifting... that's how.  While I can write here, it is iffy and just when it happens.  My brother sent a text message.  I'm surprised my mother didn't try to call.  But then, she is a woman, the matron of that family complex in her a.o., and was probably quite busy.  And when she wasn't busy, she was busier.  Working, talking, setting things up, taking them down, cleaning, and the like.  But she loves it, I would not deny her.  I can't really help her, sometimes other women do though.  Hmm, yeah, maybe a call this morning.

I realized I was light on winter and vehicle prep.  I never did order a tow strap, or jumper cables, so I have been looking.  Online for now, but the next time I am in town, if I can, I will compare prices.  I also need to get my kit put back together for the Xt'er.  I like two sets of clothes, from socks to caps and all between, a bit of food, a heat source, tools should be in the vehicle separately but aren't anyway.  I simply need to relock and reload.  I took it all out for B-Man and haven't since been in shape to put it back.  All good though.  I should go through my gear at least twice a year, and often do, to change things up a bit and wash and change the clothes. 

Well... later.

Terrible story, but then it all fit.

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A woman dies in her home, and before anyone who cared noticed, her home was burgled around her dead body.  What she had of value, who knows.  But return trips makes one think there might have been somethings of value.  Things that should have gone to her family.  Compton, California, eh?

How could that ever be brought to make sense?  Ah, because I realized that the burglars were probably just low level Zerocare bureaucrats, getting practice in for when another shoe to drop from that boondoggle of a law.  It seems, Zerocare will be doing the same thing.  It is forcing elders who make too much money for medicaid, onto medicaid, up to a certain level of wealth.  And then, it says the state can then strip mine the assets of those seniors.  Further, below a certain income for seniors over 55, it forces them into medicaid, offering them no other option for medical coverage. 

Yikes! 

Okay, I said it made sense.  I take that back.  I meant, now it makes sense in an Obama world.  Hell loves this "guy".

Yelps.

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Several, actually.  Did I hear you grumble, too, Desert Cat?  No, not calling you an interloper, it just seemed that one of the allowed had a bit of a fit.  Might have been foam though.  Or no one, you know how these notions work.

Whatever the case, I felt some one else, an interloper, about eat their tongue yelling at me for putting up something so horrible on Christmas.  To which I reminded them a)it was Christmas eve and b)that they had broken into my mindspace on the eve of one of the most holy of my days.  There is no cause for that, no matter if they think they are doing God's bidding, tending my health, protecting the nation, or whatever lame excuse they might provide.  I don't know if they received my thoughtblast, but it was sent without any regrets.  I won't back down from that now.  Okay... later I felt something, but not sure if if was from the interloper... I suspect, but there are several sources that it could have come from.  Actually, someone was tickling my feet.  Yes, I am crazy.  But, that doesn't mean it's not true.  Not being sure if it was an attack, I sent "hungry, very hungry" back at them.  Got tickled again, in several parts of my foot, and on my arm.  Truly, a tickle, giggled did I!  So sent "extra, extremely, hungry"... and as an extra, "horny", back at them.  Tickling stopped.  Might just be nerve damage from diabetes, but I've never felt anything like that without someone physically tickling my feet.  Wasn't the cats, either.

Gah!  I hope it wasn't my mom tickling my feet!  How do I even think such things.  Soap, toothbrush, eyeballs.  *scrub, scrub, moan, scrub*

Oh, never mind.  I just.... it's a diary, not necessarily the truth.  Perceptions, thoughts, wonders, worries.  Choose to believe as you wish.  Even when I am sure about something, like being tickled of mind, I'm probably more in agreement that it isn't possible.  A bastard in every way, neither this nor that, if actually possibly both, in truth.  :p  Tic-tac-toe.  We win!  And lose.

Crazy, baby.  :)  Later.
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Something foam wrote, in a comment, made me realize to write something.  "I'm really too short to ride this ride. But, I stand on tippy toes and cheat and sometimes close my eyes."  I did write something in a response comment.  I decided to expand on that.

I know it seems terrible, here, at times.  Darkness can crowd in, confusion can make things messy, and there I sit.  And yet it isn't what it seems.  No one was quite made for this ride.  The difference is, if it gets too much, you get to close your eyes, duck out for a breath of fresh air, tinker or play or work.  This ride is my life.  I don't have a way out, closing my eyes does no good, and I can't pray all day and even into my dreams.  Just, while you see some hard things here, know that I am probably cutting it, and you can take it or leave it.  Just... don't judge.

It's not me, or what I wish, always, just bits of what I see.  I enjoy the company, when it is to be had.  I understand when company splits as well.  It really isn't for entertainment purposes, if it isn't necessarily fact, only, again, what I see, hear, feel, taste, touch, think... perhaps imagine.  So, as long as we understand, should be good.

Sinner, angel, saint, and beauty.

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I have favored, among angels.  Some are closer to God, some more distant.  None should be taken lightly.  Of the host, each has his place.  They are seen, when they are seen, as handsome to the point of beauty.  This confuses some.  There is only one time, that I have read, in the bible, where an angel appears to have come in the form of a woman.  But the witness(es) where sheep herders, in the wilds, I believe.  It would be easy for such to confuse a youthful male, clean of whiskers, perfect in health, in robes, with a woman.  So I am not entirely sure of that case, myself.

And while angels do have an unearthly beauty, even in male form, I would suggest some things.  One, what those of earth take for beauty, in this case, is in fact a reflection of God.  As a stone left near the fire to warm may give off heat when it is removed, so to do angels reflect transcendent radiance when separated from God for a bit.  But what I see in men is much more.

From the most humble to, hopefully, the elite, there is no surety.  We can not reflect God directly, for He does not present to us in this fashion.  Through faith most of those who would shine stumble through life.  We cannot depend on reflecting God's beauty, even should we will it, all of the time.  Our forms are subject to ills and age.  Our minds are ravaged by doubts, wants, and needs.  We struggle with sin, and what comes from sin.  And yet, in this very thing, we are elevated above angels.  They see, we only can believe, at best.

Beauty, for some, truly is skin deep.  For themselves, for others.  Monsters, to some, those who are not beautiful are set aside.  Those who are not successful are spurned.  And, at times, correctly.  At times, not so much.  But often, in the ugly, in the diminished, in the ignorant, there lies the hope.  It is how we deal with these people, and sometimes ourselves as such people, things if we aren't quite people maybe more for some of us, that makes us more than angels can ever be... minor mirrors.  For we are free to rise above, accept more than just the perfect, and be who we are, as we are, and still reflect God.  Above angels, if very humbly.

Angels, and more.  Merry Christmas.

Oh ye of little faith.  Dolphins.  Seven of them, to be exact.  Don't believe me, ask a young child and learn a piece of the wisdom of the ages.  Blessings.

Merry Christmas.

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It's hitting me today.  That rough spell.  Not knowing, for sure, that today was Christmas, didn't help.  No problems.  Some Christmas seasons are hard for long periods, some for short spots.  This is the first bluesy day.  And, once I get over it, I will somehow enjoy having gone through it.  It reminds me of the sacrifices God asks us to make.  One portion here for this, one for there and that, and this part for oblations.  And so it is.  Some of it, like this, seems built into the system.  I, as I suggested, do not mind.  I am not sure it is specifically for God, or that He demands it.  It just covers the full gamut of our nature while we celebrate.  Perhaps being a bit of a surrender to what we have lost, each year losing a bit more no matter how much else we might gain?

It is difficult to be cheery when this hits, no matter how I try to mitigate.  Feelings, emotions, are separate from reasoning.  Urhm, for most of us.  Where reason can fit in with emotions is in deciding, when that is an option, how to deal with what feelings bring.  For my part, this time, I am turning over the sadness as a direct gift to God.  He bled for us, and more.  I can see how He might see such things as... worthy gifts.  Even, perhaps especially, in a season otherwise of joy.

I do try to envision Christ's birth.  There are discrepancies in the tale.  A manger in a stable, or not, among other things.  Which was it?  I honestly cannot say.  Nor, in a way, is it important.  It reminds me of the myths of my youth, right to this day, even about things that happened within my own life.  A family gathering, and everyone talking about an event, and few remember the thing the same.  Weren't we all right there?  Didn't we talk about the event even then, together?  How could we all remember it so differently?  Doesn't seem possible.  Only one of us could be right, but there remains a chance that none of us have it exactly right.

A humble baby, however, born to a woman who agreed to God's request, married to a caretaker standing in as guardian, somewhere humble, without family or friends, and with risk from the state hanging over their heads.  I wonder if they knew, at the time, the danger they were in.  I have always hoped that they were allowed to have peace until that was by needs shattered.  It amazes me, too, how little the state has changed in two thousand years.  Still, the birth of a child who would become a man who would bring the only hope for men, and others possibly.  That is a fleshly thought.  Another thought might be to see a singularity event.  Not from the ideas of men, but a thing for all time, once in time, never to be repeated in that fashion.  Repeated, but not for the same reasons, in the same place, if very possibly in a somewhat similar situation.  A once in all time event.  Rare indeed, in one sense.

We see it as joyous and simple.  But the truth had to be anything but.  A man marries a woman, one by all social norms he should not have married.  A woman with a child out of wedlock, accepted into wedlock but... not.  A child said to be God, if that notion had to be hidden.  A world in which the only two choices for that child were personal sacrificial death or one ruler to rule them all, by force.  Choices?  I suspect, yes, there were options.  It all had to come together just -so-.  People had to agonize, starting with Mary, but not stopping with her, and even to us today.  Each generation, each new born child, must share in that very agony of choice.  Unlike other so-called Gods, this one won't return until the faithful have been, for the most part, murdered.  Choices.  But God doesn't need us to believe to be potent.

Blathering, but so go my thoughts as I think of Christ, Father, the Holy Spirit.  When I try to find my place and do what They ask.  When I consider the gifts They give, the prices They have paid, the joy They have brought even when on the wings of suffering... my mind simply whirls.  Too much there for any man to encompass.  Christ suggested, when He walked here, that He did not and could not know all.  Not while bound by flesh, as I have it.  So much the less for us little ones.  And yet, we are asked to try, so I do.  Hrumph!  Even writing the thoughts correctly can be a bit of a... challenge.

Now, truly, Merry Christmas.  I hope Christ has been called to your home.  I hope that you have had Him in your midst.  I hope the pains and hurts of the season can be turned into joys, even through suffering.  I pray that you use this celebration in order to ready for when Christ comes again or the trials between now and then.  Yes, Merry Christmas.

Tresspassers will be shot, survivors will be shot again?

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Not by me, mind you.  They are armed.  They are intrusive.  They suggest these things are for my benefit.  And so it shall come to pass.

I can't... remember.

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Losing time.

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I pushed until I got to about 8:00-10:00 in the morning.  I would then crash, hard.  The last few mornings have been a great struggle.  This morning I am not going to make it to 8:00.  I'm doing good to hit 7:00.  I just don't have anything left with which to push.  Thankfully, the only baby involved is me.  I do feel like a baby, just not a normal one.  Then again, if you ask some women about their children...  Well, on to bed.  I have a delight set for dinner, I hope. 

Good "night".

Not just the youth.

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True, I think Mr. Whittle hits some fine chords.  I think the direction is correct, as a general rule.  One of the things I like about life around here is that these kids are taught these things.  There aren't as many as there used to be, but there are many children, compared to the rest of America.  With greater numbers comes less coddling.  They are loved, tended, and perhaps spoiled a bit, but not any more than a solid middle class and just two parents can support.  But they have chores, they have parents that expect work, have demands on quality, and push.  They are taught to shoot, to hunt perhaps, to butcher animals, they see the nitty-gritty of life.

Laugh at myself? I do. For good reason.

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Going private has done little.  Less than I thought.  They just think I don't realize they are still watching.  What they can do electronically, however, I can do natively, without no wires or electricity.  Oh but they do see.  They aren't the only ones.  They, however, aren't used to being watched back.  They know that exists, they just aren't comfortable with it.  I am almost certain they know they aren't the only fish in the watching ocean though.  They can probably only guess who else watches, and watches even them.  I could give them a list.  Funny world we live in.

Still, it did cut down on the chaos noise.  Legion is gone, the youthful free-radicals no longer tease, haunt, giggle, misuse.  Not that many understand, it is just that, like talking to a child too young about the birds and the bees, all you end up with is confusion, laughter, blushes, and such.  The ones who remain are intent, devoted... though to what depends on the group, and adult, if human.  They have learned not to let their feelings spill onto the screen for those like me to pick up on.  And yet, I can feel you, sitting there, quiet like, as a deer being hunted.  You don't know why you are quiet and unmoving, and intent, while reading here.  It's because you are in bear country, of the mind, spirit, flesh, and even soul.  I see right into your eyes with every word your eye reads here.  Do you see me in the words?  Careful, child.  You just helped me see even more.  Don't squirm, don't rock, don't twitch, don't... breath.  Closer... closer...  I'm behind you.

Crazy Ivan, baby.  But don't think it was blind.

The choir was wonderful.  It was a fine mix of men and women, adults and children.  They performed admirably.  There were treats for afterward, but I...  I could not stay.  Family, my church, this church, that convention, I... usually sneak out.  I love company, sometimes.  But I needed to think, after the music, I think.  I enjoyed the company, but I see that they see.  There was that, too.  Yes, yes, crazy old coot.  Hushutup.  I am blind but I most definitely see.

I did get dressed, shaved, and put on my Sunday best.  It is not typical.  Chords, but the right shirt.  No tie, and I couldn't find my suit coat... or whatever these modern fineries are called.  The tie was too tight tonight.  The suit jacket just a touch out of reach for my stumbling mind to guide my hand to.  I looked as good as I get.  Butt ugly, but large as a rock and twice as dense... in all ways one could take that.  Now, all I could find in the time allotted was hiking boots.  They are leather, though, so...  Urhm, probably need polishing, and waterproofing, but...  I did what I could.

I could say more, but I like to let the unofficial readers... wonder.  :p  *laughing grin*

Afterward I made it to town.  Milk, cat food, cat litter, and a few things to make sure Christmas can be celebrated without great hunger or privation.  Simple things, but it is the simple things that... mean so much sometimes.  A glass of milk, fresh, whole, real.  You only have to sweat it out in some shithole of a jungle for a couple of weeks to start wanting mommy and milk, and cookies.  And, and, and...  But I have it.  And, at least I can call my mom.

Later.

Christmas. A new way, for me.

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Oh, don't be too out, but... I never know when Christmas, or Thanksgiving, or... my birthday is.  I'm just not good at some things.  Sure.  Laugh it up.  Enjoy one of Doom's weaknesses.  I don't mind, it's just the way of it.  Nor do I mind, for my part.  Today, tomorrow, yesterday, a week from now, three years ago, ten years from now...  You... just have to have the right perspective and then you understand... some other things.  Time is not what it seems.  What is, was, will be, and could be all mingle into a form of...  Never mind.  Oddly, I do believe most of you know at least some of that which I speak... if you all probably know exactly when those holidays fall.  You simply haven't drunk deeply enough from the cup about which I speak.  I've tasted the last drop.  Tastes nothing like Folgers, by the way.

I suggested I would begin looking for notions regarding the 12 Days of Christmas.  And so I have.  Here is a more modern adaptation to the notion.  While this is by a Catholic author, I do believe there are some in all or most denominations who celebrate a similar way.  I know there are Mormons who do as well.  It is, actually, a tradition dating, from what I have read, from before the Martin Luther.  While he wasn't the first splitter, he created the longest lasting schism.  Anyway, here is a modern notion.  I was correct, it is celebrated in the days following Christmas itself, and Christmas Eve is a part of it.  Yeah, I... dig deep when I go long.  I suppose, if I piss you off, you were probably pissed off already, you were just waiting for someone, anyone to say something, or... anything.  Ha!  The good thing about the link is it offers a mixed view, so you can see what might work for you.  It's, for me, a start.

I was starting to fear that tonight, or... today... was Christmas.  So confused, so often, about some things.
Oh, now I may play Christmas music.  I don't have to find Catholic choirs.  But I will be looking to small church setting choirs.  I will be going to an event to... this evening.  So I will get to hear some Christmas music from a fine town choir personally too.  But, for now, for here, for toni... this morning...