The managers office, though not exemplary, is sufficiently neat and organized for an efficient search for the information I seek. All the cabinets and files are open, save those holding tenant information. Those locks are easily bypassed, meant only to give someone with mere curiosity or an emotional outburst a check while the manger found a means of altering the intent. It seems the occupancy was complete. There is always more information than one needs in these files, yet that information can be interesting. I had only sought occupancy data, and perhaps where the larger groups or families were staying as the possibility of larger stores would be there. But reading about people who had lived only a few moments away for years and with whom I had no real life connection, let alone contacts which I could remember, pulled me in. After looking at all and pouring over a few files, I decided to push past my interest and begin looking for stores, keys, and whatever else the place might provide. First though, I used the data and a floor map to pick a preferred path to the preferred apartments.
Most of the keys, some in as much as triplicate, are contained in a shallow, mounted, cupboard, with a lock itself though not actually locked. The keys are labeled, and the cupboard is labeled, so my task here is easy. I notice several empty key rings, and decide to put each floor’s keys on their own key ring. There are about seven apartments with no keys, only two missing keys on the floor above me, and after looking at the map and my choice apartments, I decide I may easily work my path to avoid these places, at least initially. As I am about to close the key cabinet, I notice several keys quietly tucked into the frame in the bottom right-hand corner area. They are on one key ring and there is a paper with writing, “Chief” it says. Hmm, masters? I take one off, add it to it’s own key ring, and bind the rest of the bands with this newest fourth ring. Lord of the Key Rings, I muse, and hope. The other potential masters and keys, I sort as above, taking one lesser than my primary but greater than the last key ring as a spare, and hide the lesser key ring, precisely where I will not forget it.
I find several loose tools lying around and gather them. I notice a few metal boxes and a few plastic boxes and investigate. All but one has tools and repair pieces and parts. Electric tape, bolts, wire cutters, and other small miscellaneous items. The boxes, for the most part, are also fairly well organized and arranged. The last tool box contains Legos. Lots of Legos. Not a bad find itself. I find information regarding supplies; receipts, notes, vender information lists, hazmat sheets, but the information is useless, in truth. I will just have to see what is left myself.
The room having been completely sorted, I go to the bedrooms. Blankets, sheets, clothes, rags, and other items might be recoverable. If nothing else, I will have an idea of what resources are available. And more, after looking at the files regarding the tenants, and seeing the handiwork of the manager and perhaps his family, I am curious about them. Who were these people. The first bedroom I enter seems to be a spare room combined as a personal storage area. The bed is made and seems fresh. Boxes of home supplies fill a third of one corner. It seems the caretakers sorted their clothes, bedding, and perhaps other items according to the seasons. Having been late spring when havoc ensued, the boxes were filled with winter wares and clothes. A very nice find, to be sure. They seem to know there stuff as well, the items are woolen, down, silk, and if some appeared a bit worn, they were clean and in good repair. There are two cedar chests in which the wool and some other items are neatly folded or stored. The clothes were far too small for my use. He must have been of medium build and of average height. He had big shoes for such a man, though not large enough for my use. I had to chuckle at the thought that perhaps in more ways than one I could not begin to fill his shoes.
On to the next room I find my mind directing and my feet begin moving me forward. The door is well ajar from my initial search. The cat hears my approach and rushes out and by and “purrrrsss” along her way, while leaning in and counting coup, touching base, and saying goodbye like females of any species are want to do. The room is clean, neat, and decorated for a child, a baby, probably a baby boy I should think. There are pink elephants sitting straight legged on their bottoms holding books in their straight out upper legs-as-hands painted around the room near the ceiling, contained within a foot wide white boarder. The rest of the room seems to be a soft yet not-irritatingly-so blue. There is a tall but narrow dresser, a crib, a night stand, and a mobile over the crib, the furniture appears to be unstained lacquered pine. In the corner is a lined hamper and to the side of the nigh stand is a lined trash bin. I can smell baby powder, maybe some baby oil, though neither strongly. There are no other or bad odors to be found. Several baby pictures sit atop the various furnishings, framed and neat. Cute baby, if you think babies are cute I suppose. The moment touches me, in spite of my typical cynicism. Real people, good people, and a baby; prognosis, unknown. Still, I search, gently. I find nothing, not even old baby clothes, and leave the place as well as I found it, then make my way to what must be the parents room.
A sound? Did a door close several levels up, was it some mechanism in the building clicking on, maybe off? It was not close and did not push me to the alert, but it did bring me back to my task and helped me clean my mental palette of the reverie it seemed to have been being lulled toward.
As I move along the hall toward my final social studies examination, I pause to take note of the time, immediate area, and to just let go and feel the building. I am looking for the hum and regularity of the place. Hoping that if such an arming works, I might be able to go forth so armed and thus sense something out of place in less secure parts of the fort like complex. The air conditioning shuts down, and a little shutter runs through the little world. The air slows and stops. The quiet attacks my senses. Ah, but more. Little hums of various energies moving and working lives in the background like stars sprinkle the night. It seems strong here, I suspect this will fade the further I get from this part of the building. This is the nerve center, maybe even the heart, of the facility. Humble, manageable, clean, and functioning. I almost like this place, these people.
The manager and his wife’s room is as well kept as the rest. The humble cleanliness soothes the senses, the furnishings both tasteful, correct, and yet with some sad knowledge of their humble place speak much and leave me respectful. The bed, as the others, is clean, made, and comfortable looking. In my detailed search, I notice the sheets are applied the old way, tucked with 45 degree folds. Each partner has a nightstand and a lamp, both matching their counterparts. There is a reading lamp over one of the partners pillows, more directional and perhaps less bright then the night stand lamps, but with the window in the room, I will not risk testing my theory. There is a long shorter dresser, a tall thin dresser, and what appears to be a jewelry cabinet. Each is searched for useful items. Items of value might be collected and stored, but unless a need for such appears, I have no interest in diamonds or gold. Books in the night stands, a few over the counter medicines on the unlighted side. A few bullets in the lighted side stand. Odd, I had thought she would be the late reader. The cabinet and dressers are methodically searched. The now half empty drawers seemed to lack anything of substance and the jewelry chest was empty. As usual though, I withdrew then completely removed the compartments and looked and felt each the within each void. In this case, I worked with care, intending to leave the place in as much peace and tidiness as the conditions allowed. My hand found something my eyes had not. Behind the second from the top left-hand void was an envelope, plastered to the back of the area, and for whatever reason, nearly invisible using the goggles and against the wood. The color perhaps? I made note of the new found limitation. The rest was clean, so I restored the drawers, laying the envelope on the bed. When finished, I grabbed the envelope and put it in my back pocket. I decided to look it’s contents over more carefully, in full light, in the office.
Inside the office, the door closed and locked, I retrieve the envelope from my back pocket, turn on a reading lamp, and begin examining the outside of the envelope. There is a name, nothing else. It says “Karen”. I see, also, why the envelope could not be seen with my goggles, or at least, it makes sense now. There is some heft, and the feel of paper either thick and hard, or containing something which is hard. I open my pocket knife and slice the flap. Inside I see a wedge of bills, with the bank paper still around the new bills. I cannot tell if any are missing, though I suspect not. This is $10,000 dollars then, for whatever that means at this point. As well, I find a three page letter and a key slid into the center of the bills. I am torn between reading the letter now and reading this later in my more secure location. The air conditioning clicks on, and the air moves through the room. Later it is, decisions are made sometimes ‘just because’.
I decide to finish with the main bedroom. I find my way back, filter through what I believe I have already searched, but briefly, then look to the closet. Nothing of importance to me inside the space. A few shirts, a dress, some empty and full shoe boxes, a few popular magazines, nothing. Next, the bathroom. The bathroom opens into the main bedroom and the main hall. I am amazed at the cleanliness. Not a thing remains in this room. Towels, soaps, medicines, even the toilet paper is gone. I continue on, wishing to finish this area before deciding whether to call it good and go home or whether to attempt the choicest picks on the first floor first. I find some food supplies, though not what I had hoped. The refrigerator and freezer are empty, but the dry goods and canned goods remain, seemingly untouched. Perhaps a week or two supply of food and meal supplements. I find several power tools, and collect these together with the tools I found in the office, and put them all under the bed in the master chamber. I find several of the supplies I had been looking for. Toilet paper was plentiful, paper towels, the brown, folded once, industrial dispenser type, are in goodly supply, and there are many and many sizes of light bulbs. As well, cleaning supplies and a few odds and ends.
I decided I had been successful enough for one night. It was closing in on 4:00, and it being summer, I decided to leave rather than be caught in the light where all tactical advantage disappeared. Luck is a 50/50 thing, when one does not have the distinct advantage. I gather the food goods, paper products, and a few packs of light bulbs. I lock all of the lockable doors with what seems to indeed be the master key. The cat! Yes, I had better ensure she gets out of this place yet not out of the building, not yet for sure. I go through three rooms, searching and then closing, before finding her laying on the spare bed. I close that door temporarily, without going in, as I check that the rest of the doors are closed, locked if possible, and return to the cat. On a hunch, I decide to unlock and open the office door, then I retrieve the cat, close the spare room door behind me, and enter the office. I take off the goggles and turn on the reading lamp. I check her collar, and there it is, “Isabelle”. My little friend has a name, a pretty one. Off with the lamp, up with the prizes and cat, out, shut, lock, to the entrance, and a squat and listen. A few minutes pass and Isabelle is becoming disinterested in my interest. I quietly and quickly unlock the bolts and the knob, twist, pull, release, open a crack and listen, with my foot barring an unexpected potential attempt to force the door. No sound, no sense, clear. Up and open, stop a second and listen, out and down, and I let Isabelle dance up the steps and around and out of my sight. “Meow”, bye, I say as she comes back into sight heading up the steps, disappearing again as she prances up the last steps I can see and flits into the darkness. No other sound or movement. I turn partly, close the door, and see if I can lock it. All of the locks in this part work with the possible master key.
Out of the building, in the same manner as in, no movement, light, sound, or feel disturbs my exit to the path through the trees and bushes and to my hidden path out from the area. Quiet as a cat, I head for home. Once there, I check my little traps, move through them to my main primary entrance, unlock that, and into the cave I go. I get to the table and set my goods down upon it. I then head to my special place and take a seat at my private inner area, close the door, turn on a lamp, check the shotgun, draw my pistol, remove the magazine, unload it, check the number of rounds, insert the magazine and chamber a round, release the magazine and replace the previously unloaded round into the magazine, insert it into the pistol once more, and then holster it. I scan my menu options for the evening. Canned tuna and crackers, with a bit of sun tea, and six cookies. I will deal with my prizes after I relax. There was nothing vital, exciting, or perishable. Then again, maybe not until tomorrow. I am tired and sleep sounds good. But first, a little meal. The Legos! Those would have been fun. I pull a pad out and write LEGOs on it.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Happy 4th of July
I am proud to be an American. I have done nothing to gain my freedoms, I have done little to maintain them, and as I see them potentially slipping, I am finding little to halt that. Little, but not nothing, I am choosing and then acting, in small ways, to begin changing either what is around me or making the choice to find a place more suited to living a real expression of freedom.
I think, and often, about the men who sacrificed, some sacrificing all others sacrificing more. Men who had their sons murdered, their property seized and never returned, and yet lived to a poverty stricken old age. Men who received grievous wounds of body and mind. American citizens before there was an America. People willing to die for a mere hope. Then, the sons of those men, and grandsons, and so forth so that the hope thrived, the bounty was plentiful, and their progeny prospered to world dominance. A dominance not used for the new nations greed, for absolute dictation of terms on nearly any foreign policy save survival, and often used to the benefit of all.
I think on these things and my world takes new order. Some things must be done and some people need to be corrected. Each may need strong or delicate measures, each must be tailored to the need, and each must be done so that what I have written and other things I know are not forgotten. Connections need to be made. It never is the sheep that keep the place thriving, it is and always will be a subset minority, driven to action, set upon ensuring the sheep safe grazing and perhaps even allow for willful disobedience within the limits of flock etiquette. Even the limits of flock etiquette are being assailed and this must be corrected. Yes, there is a place for the madness of chaos, but it is not in the halls of power, the streets, or anywhere in between should it be directly opposed to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness of any and at times including the particular individual if seemingly against their wish.
So, “Happy 4th of July!”. And to add a seemingly appropriate piece, if from another situation, “…and many more.”
I think, and often, about the men who sacrificed, some sacrificing all others sacrificing more. Men who had their sons murdered, their property seized and never returned, and yet lived to a poverty stricken old age. Men who received grievous wounds of body and mind. American citizens before there was an America. People willing to die for a mere hope. Then, the sons of those men, and grandsons, and so forth so that the hope thrived, the bounty was plentiful, and their progeny prospered to world dominance. A dominance not used for the new nations greed, for absolute dictation of terms on nearly any foreign policy save survival, and often used to the benefit of all.
I think on these things and my world takes new order. Some things must be done and some people need to be corrected. Each may need strong or delicate measures, each must be tailored to the need, and each must be done so that what I have written and other things I know are not forgotten. Connections need to be made. It never is the sheep that keep the place thriving, it is and always will be a subset minority, driven to action, set upon ensuring the sheep safe grazing and perhaps even allow for willful disobedience within the limits of flock etiquette. Even the limits of flock etiquette are being assailed and this must be corrected. Yes, there is a place for the madness of chaos, but it is not in the halls of power, the streets, or anywhere in between should it be directly opposed to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness of any and at times including the particular individual if seemingly against their wish.
So, “Happy 4th of July!”. And to add a seemingly appropriate piece, if from another situation, “…and many more.”
Political, perhaps, but I'm going to post it anyway.
I keep bumping into the limits of this and the limits of that. The limits seem to be focused around cultural and social issues, calculus will just have to wait until the fall. I see where the media, certain groups, and individuals cannot seem to make distinctions, so they go with all or nothing approaches. Essentially, in one case, suggesting that if they cannot use reasonable discretion in having teachers send home fliers with the children which supports the administrator’s views, which means no Christian pamphlets, then they will send everything they can home with the children, rather than just let the pamphlets be displayed in a common area and allow the students to pick and choose what they believe their parents would allow, sometimes incorrectly I am certain. There are still cities which believe it is illegal to speak about the immorality of abortion anywhere near places which perform such procedures or encourage them, in spite of a clear message from the courts. What about “Shall not be infringed…” do some police forces, cities, and counties not understand? And yet, the freedom of speech has been extended to include deliberate murderous hate speech by typical muslim clerics in the US. There seems to be a complete disconnect between true rights, the limitations of those right, and common sense.
I was discussing this at Key Words, in the comment section near the end, some time back, and another commenter added a link which lead to a recording by a speaker regarding this topic. Being offered an answer, I paid a visit to the link, found the file, and I spent a bit of time listening. I listened several times, actually. I have since been pondering the idea presented. It is, for the most part, the notion that liberals are what they are because they refuse to discriminate, in any manner, unless it is absolutely against any system of discrimination of which they could be a party to in some fashion or seems to be a weaker and losing system of discrimination. The reason, it was posed, for such a world view, was to allow peace. This method was chosen, probably rooted in ancient times and only just regurgitated into our political scene as liberalism around the turn of the century, since all other methods fail to provide absolute safety and security, peace and well being, longevity, and love. He surmised that the adherents are not evil, just completely misguided, and to such an extent that backing evil not only happened through a lack of discrimination at random intervals, but was more the chosen path most of the time through various schemes.
Now, I bought a bit of it. But there are problems. Recovering liberals still have too many roots in their “old country” and they still have much to encounter, sort, and fix. Their minds need to turn a full multi-verse degree away from their old ways for them to become freemen, logical, rational, actually open, and begin finding wisdom. They cannot believe the ground they stood on the day before was evil. They cannot believe that a mere choice, or surrendering of such to a higher “good”, a group, or a particular individual which define evil in action, or personal actions which hinder righteousness is evil. I say it is. President Bush did not say it first, he just received the most recent complaints about it. Either you are with me, or you are against me is a God thing. I really believe he was having a bit of fun when he said that. The apathetic ignorance on the left totally missed that connection, and dumped on an ancient wisdom, showing it’s evil in a very startling way.
No, these are not mistakes, misunderstandings, or new theoretical methods. They are not mere accidental or incidental follies, foibles, or mistakes of passion. The distortions attempted by Democrats is raw evil. It is meant to pull this country down, it is meant to deny God, it is meant to deny rights, it is meant to destroy. The village behind my place is just one example of a people and area in which their evil work is complete. Those people will never be educated, most will take drugs, sell them, and join gangs, their women will be promiscuous, have children out of wedlock, and carry some of the highest STD rates of all demographics save gay males. And, in liberal areas, they are WELCOME!
I was discussing this at Key Words, in the comment section near the end, some time back, and another commenter added a link which lead to a recording by a speaker regarding this topic. Being offered an answer, I paid a visit to the link, found the file, and I spent a bit of time listening. I listened several times, actually. I have since been pondering the idea presented. It is, for the most part, the notion that liberals are what they are because they refuse to discriminate, in any manner, unless it is absolutely against any system of discrimination of which they could be a party to in some fashion or seems to be a weaker and losing system of discrimination. The reason, it was posed, for such a world view, was to allow peace. This method was chosen, probably rooted in ancient times and only just regurgitated into our political scene as liberalism around the turn of the century, since all other methods fail to provide absolute safety and security, peace and well being, longevity, and love. He surmised that the adherents are not evil, just completely misguided, and to such an extent that backing evil not only happened through a lack of discrimination at random intervals, but was more the chosen path most of the time through various schemes.
Now, I bought a bit of it. But there are problems. Recovering liberals still have too many roots in their “old country” and they still have much to encounter, sort, and fix. Their minds need to turn a full multi-verse degree away from their old ways for them to become freemen, logical, rational, actually open, and begin finding wisdom. They cannot believe the ground they stood on the day before was evil. They cannot believe that a mere choice, or surrendering of such to a higher “good”, a group, or a particular individual which define evil in action, or personal actions which hinder righteousness is evil. I say it is. President Bush did not say it first, he just received the most recent complaints about it. Either you are with me, or you are against me is a God thing. I really believe he was having a bit of fun when he said that. The apathetic ignorance on the left totally missed that connection, and dumped on an ancient wisdom, showing it’s evil in a very startling way.
No, these are not mistakes, misunderstandings, or new theoretical methods. They are not mere accidental or incidental follies, foibles, or mistakes of passion. The distortions attempted by Democrats is raw evil. It is meant to pull this country down, it is meant to deny God, it is meant to deny rights, it is meant to destroy. The village behind my place is just one example of a people and area in which their evil work is complete. Those people will never be educated, most will take drugs, sell them, and join gangs, their women will be promiscuous, have children out of wedlock, and carry some of the highest STD rates of all demographics save gay males. And, in liberal areas, they are WELCOME!
More lies, see. But at least I am awake, and already.
I lifted to a stand, then hunched and buckled my knees a bit so that I would not be full height, would have a little flexibility with regards to changing direction and speed while being able to tilt my head down a bit so that with a lesser turn in either direction, I would be able to more quickly and surely scan the full surround. I began my approach quietly, with a steady guarded pace. The empty windows stared at me, as the eyes of a sleeping or seemingly dead animal which might waken or quicken and swallow me whole. Swallow me whole it would indeed, but would it release me was the question.
No movement or sound caught my notice. The breeze rustled leaves or cut a corner in such a way that I would reckon the source, but only for a moment. Evidence or understanding coming before any serious reconsideration of my plan was considered. The complex slowly became larger in my field of view, blocking out all the world behind it as it’s maw’s detail became complete. Plexiglas, aluminum, glue, and steel married and settled into a single entrance door with a foot wide window to either side, joining seemlessly above the door, the plexiglas then cut by the metals into five foot by six foot panels on up the three stories of the height. The plexiglas was a barely opaque, probably a dark smoke color, though the goggles cut through it twice as well as I might have expected, at most viewing angles.
As I arrive at the door, a sound, a movement, a… a feel. I glide to the edge of the entrance, my back to the brick of the outer wall, the nearest window 6 feet to my right, and begin finding an angle which lends to looking into the entrance plexiglas, and stairwell behind it, to my left. I lower to a squat again, find the angle, and lean in, attempting to keep my vision clean and remain as out of the picture of view as possible.
Only a few moments, very little noise, might I have escaped detection? What was it, if anything? What had triggered my alarm. I was checking my memory to find whether it was a sound, a movement, a combination, or just a sense beyond those, a scent? No, no surety, but I trusted then and now as I search the area for movement, while I listen for sound. Nothing immediately, so I lean back and take in all that is outside with me once again, while leaving some of my attention focused on the interior, now behind and to my left. I wait a few moments, take a sip of water, then turn back toward the plexiglas and look and listen again. Nothing, the place looks clean, neat, and empty. I move over to the right of the door and pull, slowly. Unlocked and it begins to open with ease, the door moves silently. The air from inside the building, locked for who knows how long at this point and still warmed from the day, whooshes out in a hurry to refresh itself. I listen intently as I slowly open the door to allow entrance and then I go in.
I gain entry and slowly move to the right side of the hall and tuck into my now all to familiar squat. The steps leading up cut into the left side of the hall, the place I want to go, though is down. In the center of this hall, there is supposed to be steps down, a half of a level and to my right, but I only see a cutout for a door. I listen and look, I look out of the side window as well. Nothing, not a sound, no movement. Go, I say. I move toward the cut to the right and as I approach, I see that it is not just cut into the hall as if for a door, but it also cuts down and in the correct direction in the form of concrete steps. I take them and then follow a short dark hallway to a door, the managers apartment, office, supplies, who knows. I will shortly, actually. I listen at the door, nothing. I reach for the handle.
Motion behind me, I can feel it. It is moving fast. I can hear the sound, the little of it there is. It is moving fast. I spin, my pistol coming out, and then “Meow!”. Stupid cat, I almost shot you I think. I reach down, fluff it’s head, then scratch behind it’s ears. It seems to be in health. I did not smell cat odors when I entered. I will keep this in mind, and if the manager’s rooms provide nothing else, they will provide a temporary holding chamber for my first prisoner of war, if I can work this thing out.
After calming, then holstering my pistol, I turn back toward the door, squat, and listen again. Nothing new, so I raise my hand to the handle and gently give it a twist. It turns and I hear or sense the door release and I push in until I can allow the knob to return to position quietly without catching on the door frame. I ease the door the rest of the way open, slowly, and squat and listen. Nothing going on in party central, so I make my entrance, the cat follows. I could easily contain the little innocent beast, but I think it better to have an open exit than a trapped mute who is only a potential traitor at that.
Initially, I just scan each room, fully, for anybody. The living, the dead, human or animal. There are three bedrooms, a living room with a bar separator between it and the hallway-like kitchen, several closets, a bathroom, an office, and two storage rooms. There is no one, living or dead, save the cat and myself. Nor is there a convenient second exit, though there are a few windows higher on the walls which might be opened or broken in order to provide an exit. I cannot tell the difficulty involved with that at the moment, so I leave that thought as a simple possibility. I return to the door to the manager’s quarters with the cat in tow. I think she realizes my intentions, but just a hair too late. The door now blocks her path, closed and certain. She turns away from the now closed door as if she had not meant to leave in any case, and was just ensuring the door was indeed closed properly. My hand shoots to her head, and gives her a little attention, “meow”, and off she goes. I lock and double bolt the door then I head to the office. The room is interior so I should be able to use my flashlight at least, and save the batteries in the goggles.
No movement or sound caught my notice. The breeze rustled leaves or cut a corner in such a way that I would reckon the source, but only for a moment. Evidence or understanding coming before any serious reconsideration of my plan was considered. The complex slowly became larger in my field of view, blocking out all the world behind it as it’s maw’s detail became complete. Plexiglas, aluminum, glue, and steel married and settled into a single entrance door with a foot wide window to either side, joining seemlessly above the door, the plexiglas then cut by the metals into five foot by six foot panels on up the three stories of the height. The plexiglas was a barely opaque, probably a dark smoke color, though the goggles cut through it twice as well as I might have expected, at most viewing angles.
As I arrive at the door, a sound, a movement, a… a feel. I glide to the edge of the entrance, my back to the brick of the outer wall, the nearest window 6 feet to my right, and begin finding an angle which lends to looking into the entrance plexiglas, and stairwell behind it, to my left. I lower to a squat again, find the angle, and lean in, attempting to keep my vision clean and remain as out of the picture of view as possible.
Only a few moments, very little noise, might I have escaped detection? What was it, if anything? What had triggered my alarm. I was checking my memory to find whether it was a sound, a movement, a combination, or just a sense beyond those, a scent? No, no surety, but I trusted then and now as I search the area for movement, while I listen for sound. Nothing immediately, so I lean back and take in all that is outside with me once again, while leaving some of my attention focused on the interior, now behind and to my left. I wait a few moments, take a sip of water, then turn back toward the plexiglas and look and listen again. Nothing, the place looks clean, neat, and empty. I move over to the right of the door and pull, slowly. Unlocked and it begins to open with ease, the door moves silently. The air from inside the building, locked for who knows how long at this point and still warmed from the day, whooshes out in a hurry to refresh itself. I listen intently as I slowly open the door to allow entrance and then I go in.
I gain entry and slowly move to the right side of the hall and tuck into my now all to familiar squat. The steps leading up cut into the left side of the hall, the place I want to go, though is down. In the center of this hall, there is supposed to be steps down, a half of a level and to my right, but I only see a cutout for a door. I listen and look, I look out of the side window as well. Nothing, not a sound, no movement. Go, I say. I move toward the cut to the right and as I approach, I see that it is not just cut into the hall as if for a door, but it also cuts down and in the correct direction in the form of concrete steps. I take them and then follow a short dark hallway to a door, the managers apartment, office, supplies, who knows. I will shortly, actually. I listen at the door, nothing. I reach for the handle.
Motion behind me, I can feel it. It is moving fast. I can hear the sound, the little of it there is. It is moving fast. I spin, my pistol coming out, and then “Meow!”. Stupid cat, I almost shot you I think. I reach down, fluff it’s head, then scratch behind it’s ears. It seems to be in health. I did not smell cat odors when I entered. I will keep this in mind, and if the manager’s rooms provide nothing else, they will provide a temporary holding chamber for my first prisoner of war, if I can work this thing out.
After calming, then holstering my pistol, I turn back toward the door, squat, and listen again. Nothing new, so I raise my hand to the handle and gently give it a twist. It turns and I hear or sense the door release and I push in until I can allow the knob to return to position quietly without catching on the door frame. I ease the door the rest of the way open, slowly, and squat and listen. Nothing going on in party central, so I make my entrance, the cat follows. I could easily contain the little innocent beast, but I think it better to have an open exit than a trapped mute who is only a potential traitor at that.
Initially, I just scan each room, fully, for anybody. The living, the dead, human or animal. There are three bedrooms, a living room with a bar separator between it and the hallway-like kitchen, several closets, a bathroom, an office, and two storage rooms. There is no one, living or dead, save the cat and myself. Nor is there a convenient second exit, though there are a few windows higher on the walls which might be opened or broken in order to provide an exit. I cannot tell the difficulty involved with that at the moment, so I leave that thought as a simple possibility. I return to the door to the manager’s quarters with the cat in tow. I think she realizes my intentions, but just a hair too late. The door now blocks her path, closed and certain. She turns away from the now closed door as if she had not meant to leave in any case, and was just ensuring the door was indeed closed properly. My hand shoots to her head, and gives her a little attention, “meow”, and off she goes. I lock and double bolt the door then I head to the office. The room is interior so I should be able to use my flashlight at least, and save the batteries in the goggles.
What is the deal, why is life so weird today.
Sleep is not coming easy. Yet I have things I need to do tomorrow. I looked online for some of the things on my camping list. I looked solely for prices as the items could not be delivered by Thursday. I can find most of these things locally, I believe, but I doubt it will be one stop shopping. It will be frustrating, long, hot, and rather dull. Dealing with ignorant salesmen, lines, frustrated shoppers, and heavy traffic is the worst scenario. Who knows, sometimes these trips end up being fun and informative. The only thing that might give me trouble in locating is the cast iron grill. I have looked locally previously. In several searches I simply could not find it. In one search I happened upon it, but I was not needing it at that moment and I thought the price was a little high. At some point I must just go with what is available, within my time constraints, using the money I have in my pocket. With gas prices, shipping, time, and all factors involved, a fortune can be spent comparing and the difference, usually, will be in dollars and cents, not tens or hundreds of dollars. Even automobiles at some point must just be purchased, and if it is a rarer style, it might be best to grab and go. Though I did work them down, I know I did not do a great job horse trading, if sufficient. Does anyone? Still, one can either enjoy the tasks of life, or live in misery. Both, I say, for me. So, one definite task for tomorrow. Sleep would be good.
Rocky now only has four little fishy friends. He misses the other two, or perhaps did not miss them put more accurately. As one of my last girlfriends said, “How can I miss you if you are still here?”. Rocky and myself have allowed for that needed distance, if not particularly to our perspective associate’s specific meaning or the intended outcome of such a thought. Ah, well, it is good to be the chooser, and full, so I fully empathize with Rocky and perhaps he in his own way reciprocates.
I still have a piece of chicken, some rice, beans, and a few other goods cooked. The bread is three quarters finished, though half was given away, and a half to a third of the loaf that was eaten in house was gobbled by a girl raccoon. It is about time to consider what to thaw. A steak perhaps, a roast might not be bad, hmm, I usually have bits and bites of good, sufficient, and odd cuts of beef and other real meats, fishes, and fowls in there. I buy and forget, so every time I go through this it is like pondering a box of chocolates. Not really, but it is fun to play that. My memory leaves room for no surprises. Pretending to forget keeps the skill sharp though.
I think quitting tobacco is what is harassing me of late! That stuff just does not want to leave my system or quit nagging me. That must be what is so weird. In a week, I hope things smooth out. I will try to sleep now, a quick small snack and a little milk to try and pacify this other hunger and perhaps that will allow rest.
Rocky now only has four little fishy friends. He misses the other two, or perhaps did not miss them put more accurately. As one of my last girlfriends said, “How can I miss you if you are still here?”. Rocky and myself have allowed for that needed distance, if not particularly to our perspective associate’s specific meaning or the intended outcome of such a thought. Ah, well, it is good to be the chooser, and full, so I fully empathize with Rocky and perhaps he in his own way reciprocates.
I still have a piece of chicken, some rice, beans, and a few other goods cooked. The bread is three quarters finished, though half was given away, and a half to a third of the loaf that was eaten in house was gobbled by a girl raccoon. It is about time to consider what to thaw. A steak perhaps, a roast might not be bad, hmm, I usually have bits and bites of good, sufficient, and odd cuts of beef and other real meats, fishes, and fowls in there. I buy and forget, so every time I go through this it is like pondering a box of chocolates. Not really, but it is fun to play that. My memory leaves room for no surprises. Pretending to forget keeps the skill sharp though.
I think quitting tobacco is what is harassing me of late! That stuff just does not want to leave my system or quit nagging me. That must be what is so weird. In a week, I hope things smooth out. I will try to sleep now, a quick small snack and a little milk to try and pacify this other hunger and perhaps that will allow rest.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
When all else fails, make up lies!
I was walking toward the low-rise apartments. The area was deserted, for the most part, almost a month ago. Between the random terror attacks, some new sickness of unknown origin, and a backlash against the hitherto allowed social disorder, most had headed for what ever might pass for home, safety, shelter. Those who survived that is, many did not. I am not sure why I did not abandon the area, I guess I just did not care. Well, it might actually be told that I did not even notice the problem and subsequent exodus. But now I was hungry and had a few other needs to fill. Water and electricity seem to still be on, but to what use without toilet paper, food, and other vitals. The stores were looted, the items there disorganized, and as I found the last two times I made attempts at foraging there, very dangerous, too dangerous. The apartments seemed a better prospect, with a low, slow, quiet, nighttime entry and just a little luck I might meet my needs. Who is going to bother to grab all of their toilet paper and every small scrap of food in a rush to escape and survive?
I had surveyed the building, approaches, entrances, and such several times in the last few days. I had attempted to mask my activities by skirting the area, heading in different seeming directions each time, and not taking particular obvious note of the prize, until seemingly taking a break in a more sheltered area, I would then leisurely spy the place from concealment. There were better paths for getting close to the building unseen. There were shorter paths to the entrances. There were paths of many flavors, none of them perfect. Choices are something I prefer not to deal with, but last eve I had made one. The path I chose lent the greatest protection from view but left a longer final and open approach. This path required that I circle around several blocks and a large, definitely empty building. The building was poison, I had watched as a few stragglers broke into the place, disappeared for a few moments, returning to the fresh air only in time to choke on their final breaths. From there I needed to follow a small triple row of trees and bushes back into the target location, right to that final approach.
I had wondered if I would ever need the item. It was quite expensive, it used batteries which is something I despise only slightly less than recharge only items, and I had no real use for it, then. Now, however, I find myself pleased with my daring. Daring my finances not to kick me for the purchase, daring my government not to arrest me for it, and daring something bad to happen so that I could extol my wisdom involved with the purchase. The goggles worked well, third and a half generation, they said. Do these salesman dolts know what they are talking about, or like sports announcers, are they just oozing words out of their face for no other reason than that their ears lead to a void? As I said, it works, quietly, very well, and is not supposed to be able to be seen by other units, giving no trace while being able to see some of the other such devices. Ah, but if it could eliminate sound, I would surely have it.
I find the path that leads through the trees and bushes and to the place I wish to be. I hunker down into a squat, always listening and sensing, but now going over my plan. I found the blueprints for this place and looked them over well. I found where the managers office was supposed to be, and decided that would be my first visit. Keys, tenant identification, tools, supplies, and many other possibilities, but definitely a best starting point as I see things. If all went well and I found the building to be clean, or at least clear, I might do a little foraging. I force my mind out of the plan and into the now. I have heard and seen nothing for days, I have seen no one outside of the store incidents in weeks, but I do not like be surprised, or shot at, dead again being way out. A few more minutes taking in the final task and all that I can sense around me, squatted, open, and relaxing as I can. It is time.
I had surveyed the building, approaches, entrances, and such several times in the last few days. I had attempted to mask my activities by skirting the area, heading in different seeming directions each time, and not taking particular obvious note of the prize, until seemingly taking a break in a more sheltered area, I would then leisurely spy the place from concealment. There were better paths for getting close to the building unseen. There were shorter paths to the entrances. There were paths of many flavors, none of them perfect. Choices are something I prefer not to deal with, but last eve I had made one. The path I chose lent the greatest protection from view but left a longer final and open approach. This path required that I circle around several blocks and a large, definitely empty building. The building was poison, I had watched as a few stragglers broke into the place, disappeared for a few moments, returning to the fresh air only in time to choke on their final breaths. From there I needed to follow a small triple row of trees and bushes back into the target location, right to that final approach.
I had wondered if I would ever need the item. It was quite expensive, it used batteries which is something I despise only slightly less than recharge only items, and I had no real use for it, then. Now, however, I find myself pleased with my daring. Daring my finances not to kick me for the purchase, daring my government not to arrest me for it, and daring something bad to happen so that I could extol my wisdom involved with the purchase. The goggles worked well, third and a half generation, they said. Do these salesman dolts know what they are talking about, or like sports announcers, are they just oozing words out of their face for no other reason than that their ears lead to a void? As I said, it works, quietly, very well, and is not supposed to be able to be seen by other units, giving no trace while being able to see some of the other such devices. Ah, but if it could eliminate sound, I would surely have it.
I find the path that leads through the trees and bushes and to the place I wish to be. I hunker down into a squat, always listening and sensing, but now going over my plan. I found the blueprints for this place and looked them over well. I found where the managers office was supposed to be, and decided that would be my first visit. Keys, tenant identification, tools, supplies, and many other possibilities, but definitely a best starting point as I see things. If all went well and I found the building to be clean, or at least clear, I might do a little foraging. I force my mind out of the plan and into the now. I have heard and seen nothing for days, I have seen no one outside of the store incidents in weeks, but I do not like be surprised, or shot at, dead again being way out. A few more minutes taking in the final task and all that I can sense around me, squatted, open, and relaxing as I can. It is time.
No homogeneity, grumpy and smooth, sweet and sour. I must be fighting sleep.
It seems really warm out today. I have not checked the shade temperature, nor am I particularly interested in doing so. It also seems rather humid. It is not a bad weather to have, it is just Iowa weather. The world here slows down a bit. Temperature alone will not do it, humidity might, but the two combined as a system is a knock out punch. You cannot sweat off the heat and you cannot shake the humidity. One’s best bet is to go a little slower, drink a bit of water often, and find a cooler place to settle and then do so if possible. Swimming would not be a poor choice of endeavors if one could ensure one’s items.
I tinkered with my fishing poles, finally. I was able to get two of them running. Along with the new one, I have a decent chance at not running out of rod and reels while fishing. There is one reel I just cannot get set up. Perhaps ½ ounce is too much, though it would seem as though if there was a problem with that weight, it is that it is too light. The real is rated at 10 to 12 pound test. I have tried weights from ½ ounce up to 2 ounces to no good use. I have also tried line from 6 to 15 pound test. I have wasted more line with that monster than I care to consider and probably should not admit. Once obsessive is added to one’s name, it is there from then on. Still, it is very frustrating to have one reel that will not work, while I can get all of the others to work, and work, for the most part, flawlessly. I wonder if the reel is finicky, broken, or poorly constructed or if the difficulty is mine. It was certainly not the most expensive reel in the inventory, though neither was it cheap, or even terribly inexpensive. I have a neighbor I ought to have take a look at it. If he can get it to work, and then show me, while I continue to be unable to manipulate the device, he might end up with a new rig.
I called my mother today. I like letting her know when I have done something a little unique, a little special, and have been successful. The completion of the bread, my thoughts on it, Tweety Bird’s notions, the gift to the neighbors, the making of the cheese, and the finally of having the kitchen spotless (urhm, my version of spotless, she knows better) by the time I went to bed. As well, as I am thinking about how to get something organized regarding the crime here, I thought perhaps as the mayor (albeit of a small town) she might have heard, seen, read, been sent, or otherwise been introduced to information of just such a nature. Nothing like waking one’s mother and mayor from what sounded like a good nap in order to ask for a boon. It is good to be the baby! Interspersed were questions and answers, doubts and thoughts, regarding the situation. Nothing she could think of or remember would help organize my neighborhood, though talking to the mayor, she though. Well, I suggested that a man who accepted whatever bribes or promises Chicago delivered and sold out his city was probably not a great man to be speaking with. Ah, she just could not understand why they are here. Cheap labor, drug capital, I was not sure either, though politics was probably no small part of it. Our demographics just changed from about evenly split by party to majority Democrat, probably permanent and probably overwhelming. With a Democrat in the governor’s office, and Democrats completely dominating this area, it seems unlikely to not be a major factor. Ah, she thought, chuckled, then realized the price for her parties gain. I love it when they choke on reality.
On to the foods again. She was pleased bread had worked out. And she knew of this “cheese”… cottage cheese, she said. Her mom used to make it. I told her it is called mozzarella but I did not tell her further that it really is not mozzarella no matter what the recipe says. Mozzarellas is worked, in hot water, stretched and kneaded, sort of. This is not. Still, I did suggest it did not taste like cottage cheese, so she described her mother’s method. Well, close, but no cigar. I may have to see if she will show me her or her mother’s version when next I visit. She enjoys talking, even though was tired, I think she was happy to hear from me. I called her home phone first, and left a message, which she allowed her machine to filter, though probably just awakened by it so not moving fast. She knew it was me, so I feel better. I think I also know better how to get contact her now, perhaps she blows off all unknown calls, probably.
I am not sure if I want to do anything more this day. I feel pretty sapped, enough to sleep, but I know it is just too early. Even with the air, it is a bit warm and muggy. I ought to get going on a sleeping matt and finding a grill, just not now. A nap! I could do that and might still be able to look for a few things before real bedtime. Bye.
I tinkered with my fishing poles, finally. I was able to get two of them running. Along with the new one, I have a decent chance at not running out of rod and reels while fishing. There is one reel I just cannot get set up. Perhaps ½ ounce is too much, though it would seem as though if there was a problem with that weight, it is that it is too light. The real is rated at 10 to 12 pound test. I have tried weights from ½ ounce up to 2 ounces to no good use. I have also tried line from 6 to 15 pound test. I have wasted more line with that monster than I care to consider and probably should not admit. Once obsessive is added to one’s name, it is there from then on. Still, it is very frustrating to have one reel that will not work, while I can get all of the others to work, and work, for the most part, flawlessly. I wonder if the reel is finicky, broken, or poorly constructed or if the difficulty is mine. It was certainly not the most expensive reel in the inventory, though neither was it cheap, or even terribly inexpensive. I have a neighbor I ought to have take a look at it. If he can get it to work, and then show me, while I continue to be unable to manipulate the device, he might end up with a new rig.
I called my mother today. I like letting her know when I have done something a little unique, a little special, and have been successful. The completion of the bread, my thoughts on it, Tweety Bird’s notions, the gift to the neighbors, the making of the cheese, and the finally of having the kitchen spotless (urhm, my version of spotless, she knows better) by the time I went to bed. As well, as I am thinking about how to get something organized regarding the crime here, I thought perhaps as the mayor (albeit of a small town) she might have heard, seen, read, been sent, or otherwise been introduced to information of just such a nature. Nothing like waking one’s mother and mayor from what sounded like a good nap in order to ask for a boon. It is good to be the baby! Interspersed were questions and answers, doubts and thoughts, regarding the situation. Nothing she could think of or remember would help organize my neighborhood, though talking to the mayor, she though. Well, I suggested that a man who accepted whatever bribes or promises Chicago delivered and sold out his city was probably not a great man to be speaking with. Ah, she just could not understand why they are here. Cheap labor, drug capital, I was not sure either, though politics was probably no small part of it. Our demographics just changed from about evenly split by party to majority Democrat, probably permanent and probably overwhelming. With a Democrat in the governor’s office, and Democrats completely dominating this area, it seems unlikely to not be a major factor. Ah, she thought, chuckled, then realized the price for her parties gain. I love it when they choke on reality.
On to the foods again. She was pleased bread had worked out. And she knew of this “cheese”… cottage cheese, she said. Her mom used to make it. I told her it is called mozzarella but I did not tell her further that it really is not mozzarella no matter what the recipe says. Mozzarellas is worked, in hot water, stretched and kneaded, sort of. This is not. Still, I did suggest it did not taste like cottage cheese, so she described her mother’s method. Well, close, but no cigar. I may have to see if she will show me her or her mother’s version when next I visit. She enjoys talking, even though was tired, I think she was happy to hear from me. I called her home phone first, and left a message, which she allowed her machine to filter, though probably just awakened by it so not moving fast. She knew it was me, so I feel better. I think I also know better how to get contact her now, perhaps she blows off all unknown calls, probably.
I am not sure if I want to do anything more this day. I feel pretty sapped, enough to sleep, but I know it is just too early. Even with the air, it is a bit warm and muggy. I ought to get going on a sleeping matt and finding a grill, just not now. A nap! I could do that and might still be able to look for a few things before real bedtime. Bye.
Fiddling in the lion's cage, laughing at the gorilla, and all sorts of fun and games.
I noticed this article last evening, very late I do believe. I had heard about this not so long ago, perhaps at an earlier stage in development. And, I believe I had stumbled upon something about it or like it much further back. My mind nibbled the notion. I have played with scenarios, contemplated, meditated, and prayed about this little gulpable magic carpet ride to innocence. Could it be so easy? Could it work? If it worked, what would that mean? If it only half worked, what would that mean? After great consideration, and assuming beyond the capacities of the medication as I last believed them to be and into a perfect end to those things I see, dream, smell, taste, and feel, which burn as fire and ensure my belief in lycanthropy, “No”. Not just a “No.”, but a resounding “NO!”.
First, I am what I have eaten and seen. Scarred, some say and I do not deny. So are my hands, legs, and arms. I have very thick skin, hearty and enduring, even boiling water does not burn it, even when I pour it over the same area, twice, in a few moments time, while still half asleep and trying to catch some meaning to local and incessant girl squirrel chatter while trying to make us some hot tea. I barely noticed even on that cold morn. Certain parts of my mind, body, spirit, and soul are thus hearty, if that lends to a type of weakness as well. The scarring is not so harsh on the eye as it is on the senses of the over sensitive. Even should I not bite, the skin of this shark will cause bleeding in the fair notioned, thin skinned, weak, and feeble. I can neither change that past or process, and would not if I could do so. I was forged, by hammer and fire, cold, imbued with carbon, cleaned of oxygen, formed, tightened, polished and outfitted, and finally sharpened. Some say I have become dross. Even I believed this for a time and attempted in no simple easy or painless manners to unmake this Master’s product. Either His will or His product was too strong, and even I will concede that a condemned man may only be executed twice. No, I would not unmake, nor deign to lay my hand or mind against the Master’s plan again.
Nor would I recommend it. If you do not hurt, you do not grow, learn, or change behavior. That is almost a text book definition of death. Go there and you will stay there. As for my part, I will leave you there and have no part of one who goes there. As well, it is my suspicion that should you be able to drop the conscious memory, you will never escape paying the dues. And more, those dues are quite expensive, more so if you do not know the bill collector is on his way, may (will, and often) drop in unannounced, and you find that his demands for payment or unequivocal, your wants and needs fall before these, and there is no negotiation.
First, I am what I have eaten and seen. Scarred, some say and I do not deny. So are my hands, legs, and arms. I have very thick skin, hearty and enduring, even boiling water does not burn it, even when I pour it over the same area, twice, in a few moments time, while still half asleep and trying to catch some meaning to local and incessant girl squirrel chatter while trying to make us some hot tea. I barely noticed even on that cold morn. Certain parts of my mind, body, spirit, and soul are thus hearty, if that lends to a type of weakness as well. The scarring is not so harsh on the eye as it is on the senses of the over sensitive. Even should I not bite, the skin of this shark will cause bleeding in the fair notioned, thin skinned, weak, and feeble. I can neither change that past or process, and would not if I could do so. I was forged, by hammer and fire, cold, imbued with carbon, cleaned of oxygen, formed, tightened, polished and outfitted, and finally sharpened. Some say I have become dross. Even I believed this for a time and attempted in no simple easy or painless manners to unmake this Master’s product. Either His will or His product was too strong, and even I will concede that a condemned man may only be executed twice. No, I would not unmake, nor deign to lay my hand or mind against the Master’s plan again.
Nor would I recommend it. If you do not hurt, you do not grow, learn, or change behavior. That is almost a text book definition of death. Go there and you will stay there. As for my part, I will leave you there and have no part of one who goes there. As well, it is my suspicion that should you be able to drop the conscious memory, you will never escape paying the dues. And more, those dues are quite expensive, more so if you do not know the bill collector is on his way, may (will, and often) drop in unannounced, and you find that his demands for payment or unequivocal, your wants and needs fall before these, and there is no negotiation.
Sometimes I cannot stop the mirth. I am only a comic book character, after all.
As mentioned, I left a message for the Q.O.D. and went to bed after that last post which was about 2:17 or something. I slept like a babe, urhm, or a babe that sleeps soundly anyway. I awoke at 4:56 for unknown reasons, then settled and fell back to sleep, planning to awaken at 8:00 or 9:00. No such luck. At 7:23 I get a call asking when I called. Oh, that, it was about 2:15 or something. In the afternoon, is the question. No, last late night or early morning, whichever is your preferred referencing system. Ah, I hear, that is a weird time to call. Yes, one might think so, I agree. However, I add, I had just finished the bread so I knew it was done and I figured you would get the message and do as you pleased, which, you are doing, correct? Yes, I hear. Do you have butter? Why, yes, I believe I do. Then, I will be right over. *click*… *ring*… Hello? Do you have coffee? Yes. Then, I will be right over. *click*
Upon her arrival, she inspects the bread. I am almost surprised she did not produce and use a microscope, spectrometer, and a few other tools. Ah, probably cost prohibitive. She looks, touches, smells, weighs in her hand, and looks up and around to find me. White bread? White bread again but not a question this time, but she inquires with her eyes. Yes, white bread. Hmph, well, I will try some anyway. Go ahead little one, wade right in. I may or may not get to whole wheat or partial whole wheat, I went with this to see if I could do it at all. Nibble, nibble, she ate the first few tastes as if being forced to eat her peas at a dinner table in always was and never will be again land by her horrible parents or such. Then, not so much. She cut a piece and ate it right there. Then another was cut and consumed, and I do not believe she lost a crumb. I cannot be sure how much she ended consuming, nor do I worry. That she liked it, and was hooked, was quite the thing. She did slow long enough to go play her computer word game, returning to the kitchen a time or two to lighten the loaf, and commented that this, indicating the bread, will make her fat. It took more impulse control at that point than any can imagine. A submarine captain having a whole enemy fleet stop, weigh anchor, having a full compliment of torpedoes all right there for you. You get everything loaded up and are about to sink as many of those ships as possible, and right as you are about to order the attack, an urgent missive from Washington with orders not to fire. No, the war is not over, they just want to check some data, and feel bad about this or that. I hate Washington. So, the squirrel nibbled her bits, played her game, and washed her rags (her excuse for coming over, after I had declared fresh bread and cheese) without losing a single solitary battle ship. She got a couple of fresh cups of French press, enjoyed all but the cheese, and then headed off to wherever she headed off. I really enjoy some of the local fauna.
Well, I am awake and moving, albeit it slowly. Getting up an hour or two early is a good thing. Since my grooming is complete, I may see if the neighbors are home and see if they might have an interest in a few loaves of bread. Hmm, I might inquire as to the potential interest of their direct neighbors in receiving bread as well.
Not much else on the agenda. I will just see how the day plays out. I have a few things I am pondering, a few lists that are a bit dated but still in play, several interests, and a few needs yet to obtain. As well, while the local fauna was scarffing my horrible food, she indicated the day for our wilderness wandering event. So, I will need a few items. I should be able to acquire a cast iron legged grill, upon which I may cook either with implements or much as a barbeque grill. As well, I will want a sleeping pad, perhaps a waterproof bag, and I will have to see if a ground cloth came with my tent or not. All of these will go to my long term equipment needs, but I had hoped to save money this month. I will just have to see what I can do, save elsewhere, and bite the bullet a bit. It is life, and not a bad one.
Oh, now to go out and get in some kind of trouble or other. Hmm, I have not been golfing, fishing, or hiking in some time. There is the confession situation which needs tending. Laundry could be done, along with a little of the storage sorting chore that remains on my extra list. At least the general feel of the cave is good, and the kitchen is smiling, clean, and smells of bread. I am still not quite awake, which is not helping. Decisions. Decisions without a notion or clue. I guess whatever happens, looking back on it later, will just have happened.
Upon her arrival, she inspects the bread. I am almost surprised she did not produce and use a microscope, spectrometer, and a few other tools. Ah, probably cost prohibitive. She looks, touches, smells, weighs in her hand, and looks up and around to find me. White bread? White bread again but not a question this time, but she inquires with her eyes. Yes, white bread. Hmph, well, I will try some anyway. Go ahead little one, wade right in. I may or may not get to whole wheat or partial whole wheat, I went with this to see if I could do it at all. Nibble, nibble, she ate the first few tastes as if being forced to eat her peas at a dinner table in always was and never will be again land by her horrible parents or such. Then, not so much. She cut a piece and ate it right there. Then another was cut and consumed, and I do not believe she lost a crumb. I cannot be sure how much she ended consuming, nor do I worry. That she liked it, and was hooked, was quite the thing. She did slow long enough to go play her computer word game, returning to the kitchen a time or two to lighten the loaf, and commented that this, indicating the bread, will make her fat. It took more impulse control at that point than any can imagine. A submarine captain having a whole enemy fleet stop, weigh anchor, having a full compliment of torpedoes all right there for you. You get everything loaded up and are about to sink as many of those ships as possible, and right as you are about to order the attack, an urgent missive from Washington with orders not to fire. No, the war is not over, they just want to check some data, and feel bad about this or that. I hate Washington. So, the squirrel nibbled her bits, played her game, and washed her rags (her excuse for coming over, after I had declared fresh bread and cheese) without losing a single solitary battle ship. She got a couple of fresh cups of French press, enjoyed all but the cheese, and then headed off to wherever she headed off. I really enjoy some of the local fauna.
Well, I am awake and moving, albeit it slowly. Getting up an hour or two early is a good thing. Since my grooming is complete, I may see if the neighbors are home and see if they might have an interest in a few loaves of bread. Hmm, I might inquire as to the potential interest of their direct neighbors in receiving bread as well.
Not much else on the agenda. I will just see how the day plays out. I have a few things I am pondering, a few lists that are a bit dated but still in play, several interests, and a few needs yet to obtain. As well, while the local fauna was scarffing my horrible food, she indicated the day for our wilderness wandering event. So, I will need a few items. I should be able to acquire a cast iron legged grill, upon which I may cook either with implements or much as a barbeque grill. As well, I will want a sleeping pad, perhaps a waterproof bag, and I will have to see if a ground cloth came with my tent or not. All of these will go to my long term equipment needs, but I had hoped to save money this month. I will just have to see what I can do, save elsewhere, and bite the bullet a bit. It is life, and not a bad one.
Oh, now to go out and get in some kind of trouble or other. Hmm, I have not been golfing, fishing, or hiking in some time. There is the confession situation which needs tending. Laundry could be done, along with a little of the storage sorting chore that remains on my extra list. At least the general feel of the cave is good, and the kitchen is smiling, clean, and smells of bread. I am still not quite awake, which is not helping. Decisions. Decisions without a notion or clue. I guess whatever happens, looking back on it later, will just have happened.
Oh, yeah? Yeah. *beep, beep, beep...*
Done. The day is done. I am ready for sleep, but just a bit more awake time and then I will do so. I was able to fit a load of wash in, then get it into the drier, now folded and put away, during the day. I began the bread shortly after my last entry, and it finishes baking as we speak, onl… there is the beep. They are complete, and tumbled out of the pans as if it was their pleasure. While I was in the midst of preparation, I went ahead and produced homemade mozzarella cheese, with fresh diced basil and garlic from a recipe borrowed from this lady. It chills in the refrigerator and has for an hour or more. I even had time to supply my stomach with a more substantial meal during one of the risings, I do not believe I had any other food this day. Beyond, all of the dishes, save the bread pans, have been washed and put away, the counters are clean again, and all is stored or restored. Now, to read the part of the instructions about storing, again, as the time is more likely for knowledge. I will cut one loaf tonight, try a bit straight, a bit with a touch of butter, a bit with some cheese, and maybe a piece with butter and strawberry preserves. I will let it cool just a bit before digging in though, five minutes is my plan. And, do not worry K, I have a proper bread knife!
Regardless of how the bread seems when I eat it, just that I got this far is in no small measure attributable to K. I used her recipe, I followed her hints and tips, and I tried to do these things as rightly as I was able. The kneading took the minimum time, K. Each of my paws is technically big enough to knead by itself. As well, I had to cool my jets while doing it. I did not believe you indicated it was supposed to be an aerobic exercise! At first I hit it hard, then almost immediately adjusted down to a smooth, easy, long rolling motion. I cannot say I enjoyed it as you seem to, perhaps in time. But I will enjoy the produce I believe, and time and care are of interest to me and they are some of the few things which I can afford. So, publicly, officially, and as respectfully yet loudly as I get, “Thank you K!”. Thank you very much.
This day did not end up too bad at all. A few things processed a bit more, a few things finished, a few things to begin to compliments some completions, and plans.
Tasty! At first, and being quite full, I just was not getting it. A sliver of a slice tasted in the raw and I was not sensing much. Then, apparently, my taste buds sprang to life. They let me know that this indeed was a fine product. What a relief. After looking over the storage instructions, washing the pans and one of the racks now that I can put all the loaves on the remaining rack, while I considered my initial consideration of what to do with the loaves, I decided to take two loaves to my neighbors house tomorrow as soon as I rise and finish my grooming. Oh, and I will call Tangle Puss and let her know there is fresh bread and cheese, should she wish a sampling. Hmm, to make a few more batches without wasting the proceeds though. I wonder who else could use a couple of loaves apiece, or more? I will think on it as I sleep soundly tonight.
Regardless of how the bread seems when I eat it, just that I got this far is in no small measure attributable to K. I used her recipe, I followed her hints and tips, and I tried to do these things as rightly as I was able. The kneading took the minimum time, K. Each of my paws is technically big enough to knead by itself. As well, I had to cool my jets while doing it. I did not believe you indicated it was supposed to be an aerobic exercise! At first I hit it hard, then almost immediately adjusted down to a smooth, easy, long rolling motion. I cannot say I enjoyed it as you seem to, perhaps in time. But I will enjoy the produce I believe, and time and care are of interest to me and they are some of the few things which I can afford. So, publicly, officially, and as respectfully yet loudly as I get, “Thank you K!”. Thank you very much.
This day did not end up too bad at all. A few things processed a bit more, a few things finished, a few things to begin to compliments some completions, and plans.
Tasty! At first, and being quite full, I just was not getting it. A sliver of a slice tasted in the raw and I was not sensing much. Then, apparently, my taste buds sprang to life. They let me know that this indeed was a fine product. What a relief. After looking over the storage instructions, washing the pans and one of the racks now that I can put all the loaves on the remaining rack, while I considered my initial consideration of what to do with the loaves, I decided to take two loaves to my neighbors house tomorrow as soon as I rise and finish my grooming. Oh, and I will call Tangle Puss and let her know there is fresh bread and cheese, should she wish a sampling. Hmm, to make a few more batches without wasting the proceeds though. I wonder who else could use a couple of loaves apiece, or more? I will think on it as I sleep soundly tonight.
Monday, July 2, 2007
Getting closer in several planes.
With my list readied and my plans complete, my phone rings. It is a police officer, though not the one in question. He indicates that he will discuss this matter and apologized for the lateness of the attention to this matter in the other officer’s stead after I explain why I am working on this at this point. I explain what I saw and where I saw it. I add the details, including the children’s proximity. And I explain that I looked for my phone to call instead of going out as that would not have been pleasant and it might well have endangered the children further. He listens, interjecting here and there, asking this and that, until the story is told and seemingly understood. At that point, I ask what his recommendations for future situations such as this might be. He suggests I call the police, again. I suggest taking pictures, at which he almost says “NO!”. I can feel it. I indicate I can photograph the animals from inside my house, if necessary. He still wants to say “no” but does not. He has no further comment or suggestions. I ask if there is any kind of neighborhood watch in place in this area or the city in general. He says he would not know. Then he just says no, not one of which he is aware. He suggests, at this point, that I speak with my neighbors and get them to call the police if they see anything untoward occurring. Somewhere in there, I ask if the neighborhood is lost, if the thing has been pretty much given up as de facto by the powers that be. He does not know, does not think so, does not understand the question I believe. It happens, he says, randomly and here and there. Yes, I do understand, No, I will not go with that plan.
Now I need to see if my neighbors are interested in keeping drug deals from happening 10 yards from their children (who are not allowed to watch any movies or shows their parents do not approve (most) or stay up past 20:00). Children that are trained in church, every Sunday, and on other occasions. Good sons who enjoy Cub Scouts and a father as a Cub Scout leader (and good one on both counts). I worry. I know he has a thousand things on his plate, limited resources, fears of his own, and a gentle heart. His wife is strong, though she is a woman. Put simply, women may very well concede rather than quarrel, or go overboard the other direction. I just cannot ever tell which, or more, when which. The other neighbors in the neighborhood also must be spoken with. This is the part which I will not enjoy, in British understating terms. Pulling a tooth with an exchange of knowledge in the most diplomatic means possible, only to find I am dealing with a corpse. Apathy is astounding in so many, and means surrender. Does the potential for one more moments breath mean so much that one would inhale that breath in shallow quiet gasps, fearing that too much noise might also end that breath?
So, after planning, talking, then pondering, I finish my post and head out. I arrive at the parking lot, park, and rush right in to find my favorite store… gone? I visit the place at least quarterly, and it is a part of the mall, a mall which does have twists, turns, and nooks in which to hide such shops, but gone? Ah, my memory must be lagging, it is at the next intersection I assure myself and squeal my boots in that direction. Not here, not back there, where? Gone? I spy a directory, with listings and a map. I peruse the data and find my difficulty. The store, it indicates, is still open, back where I first looked, but in a ‘V’ cutback off the entrance hall with which I gained entrance to the complex. But is this old data? Doubts linger in my mind, as is their want. With a little faith, hope, and lacking a better plan, I venture forth at boot speed and find the place, and it is open.
I enter the store, send salutations the way of the ladies tending the shop, and head to my first and primary items, bread pans. I look over their offerings, checking weight, my other sensual intakes perked and brought to bear, and my intuition likewise on high alert and brought to the fore for the task. This ends up being quite simple for one with my skills, since there is only one type available. Does that make me genius yet? *hush* I grab four and begin pondering the rest of my list in my mind, but from the distraction regarding location, I pull a blank. I reach for the list and immediately know where it is and is not, as usual, it is exactly where I put it so that I would remember it. Genius indeed. Still, I walk the store, hunting, pecking, looking at other wants and perhaps future needs as I attempt to restore the memory. In the end, I do well enough I do believe. The bread pans, a baguette pan (a part of my last failed effort, aside from the yeast, was trying to produce these on a cookie sheet, I now understand), a salt pig, two large cooling racks as after comparing the largest part of the bread pan’s footprint to the rack two seemed to be in order, two packages of cheese clothe, a tea strainer to actually be used to infuse mint and small enough to fit through the small glass bottle opening, a set of metal measuring spoons as I have more than become frustrated with plastic anythings and heart-shaped to indicate wherefrom my preparations truly arrive, and of course a bit of conversation with the pleasant young ladies tending the register, one of which I recognize from every visit I have paid to the place, pleasantly enough.
Yet I know there are other parts to my list, and I try to recall these as I head to my vehicle, climb in, start up, and begin rolling to the next store on my list. White wine vinegar is called for in the cheese recipe, and there is but one store I am sure would carry such an item. To the New Pioneer Coop I go. I had thought of stopping and picking up milk on the way, but the milk I pick up will be new product so back-shelved at home, therefore must be as cool as possible as it will be a week before I get to it perhaps, therefore the Coop first. Racking my brain, I consider what I need other than white wine vinegar. I pick this up and realize I had hoped for a honey pot and honey comb server. I retrieve the vinegar and begin nosing my way through here and there, in the hopes of finding or remembering something. I think of potential fresh herbs for the cheese, and look, but it all seems organic, so I move on. I have been looking at the beers the last few times I was in that store. I did not care for the chocolate or Guinness stouts and they have no more English stout with which I have found enamor, but I see my old favored though bottled in a more European pint style pilsner. I grab one for me and one for the road, pay for the goods, and on to the last store. In this store I purchase non-organic basil and a gallon of my milk.
After arriving home, I realizing every single baking and cooking item needs to be washed. I settle the food items to proper storage places, leaving one of the beers on the counter, and run water until it is too hot for even my skin. I then remove all tags from the cooking and baking wares, plug the sink, add some soap, and let them soak. I then manage to open the beer and begin this blog entry. It is just about time to go tend the dishes and find out where I need to begin after that is settled. Drats, I just saw from the list that I did forget one item, canola oil. Hmmm, I do have peanut oil and olive oil, and a half dozen other oils from safflower to grape seed, my usual being the first two mentioned. K does indicate any of these should work, so I may just have to use one of these. The peanut oil is much less expensive, yet the allergies to it may be devastating. Still, this is a trial run, the neighbor and his family who might receive a loaf or two are not allergic to peanuts, and the product should provide a perfect sample run. Yes, peanut oil it is. But, it is a little disheartening to not have done it right, as planned, precise. And, if I am to do this, I have no time to mess with going to the store. Idealism, 0, reality, 1; I am ok with that.
So, to the kitchen I go.
Now I need to see if my neighbors are interested in keeping drug deals from happening 10 yards from their children (who are not allowed to watch any movies or shows their parents do not approve (most) or stay up past 20:00). Children that are trained in church, every Sunday, and on other occasions. Good sons who enjoy Cub Scouts and a father as a Cub Scout leader (and good one on both counts). I worry. I know he has a thousand things on his plate, limited resources, fears of his own, and a gentle heart. His wife is strong, though she is a woman. Put simply, women may very well concede rather than quarrel, or go overboard the other direction. I just cannot ever tell which, or more, when which. The other neighbors in the neighborhood also must be spoken with. This is the part which I will not enjoy, in British understating terms. Pulling a tooth with an exchange of knowledge in the most diplomatic means possible, only to find I am dealing with a corpse. Apathy is astounding in so many, and means surrender. Does the potential for one more moments breath mean so much that one would inhale that breath in shallow quiet gasps, fearing that too much noise might also end that breath?
So, after planning, talking, then pondering, I finish my post and head out. I arrive at the parking lot, park, and rush right in to find my favorite store… gone? I visit the place at least quarterly, and it is a part of the mall, a mall which does have twists, turns, and nooks in which to hide such shops, but gone? Ah, my memory must be lagging, it is at the next intersection I assure myself and squeal my boots in that direction. Not here, not back there, where? Gone? I spy a directory, with listings and a map. I peruse the data and find my difficulty. The store, it indicates, is still open, back where I first looked, but in a ‘V’ cutback off the entrance hall with which I gained entrance to the complex. But is this old data? Doubts linger in my mind, as is their want. With a little faith, hope, and lacking a better plan, I venture forth at boot speed and find the place, and it is open.
I enter the store, send salutations the way of the ladies tending the shop, and head to my first and primary items, bread pans. I look over their offerings, checking weight, my other sensual intakes perked and brought to bear, and my intuition likewise on high alert and brought to the fore for the task. This ends up being quite simple for one with my skills, since there is only one type available. Does that make me genius yet? *hush* I grab four and begin pondering the rest of my list in my mind, but from the distraction regarding location, I pull a blank. I reach for the list and immediately know where it is and is not, as usual, it is exactly where I put it so that I would remember it. Genius indeed. Still, I walk the store, hunting, pecking, looking at other wants and perhaps future needs as I attempt to restore the memory. In the end, I do well enough I do believe. The bread pans, a baguette pan (a part of my last failed effort, aside from the yeast, was trying to produce these on a cookie sheet, I now understand), a salt pig, two large cooling racks as after comparing the largest part of the bread pan’s footprint to the rack two seemed to be in order, two packages of cheese clothe, a tea strainer to actually be used to infuse mint and small enough to fit through the small glass bottle opening, a set of metal measuring spoons as I have more than become frustrated with plastic anythings and heart-shaped to indicate wherefrom my preparations truly arrive, and of course a bit of conversation with the pleasant young ladies tending the register, one of which I recognize from every visit I have paid to the place, pleasantly enough.
Yet I know there are other parts to my list, and I try to recall these as I head to my vehicle, climb in, start up, and begin rolling to the next store on my list. White wine vinegar is called for in the cheese recipe, and there is but one store I am sure would carry such an item. To the New Pioneer Coop I go. I had thought of stopping and picking up milk on the way, but the milk I pick up will be new product so back-shelved at home, therefore must be as cool as possible as it will be a week before I get to it perhaps, therefore the Coop first. Racking my brain, I consider what I need other than white wine vinegar. I pick this up and realize I had hoped for a honey pot and honey comb server. I retrieve the vinegar and begin nosing my way through here and there, in the hopes of finding or remembering something. I think of potential fresh herbs for the cheese, and look, but it all seems organic, so I move on. I have been looking at the beers the last few times I was in that store. I did not care for the chocolate or Guinness stouts and they have no more English stout with which I have found enamor, but I see my old favored though bottled in a more European pint style pilsner. I grab one for me and one for the road, pay for the goods, and on to the last store. In this store I purchase non-organic basil and a gallon of my milk.
After arriving home, I realizing every single baking and cooking item needs to be washed. I settle the food items to proper storage places, leaving one of the beers on the counter, and run water until it is too hot for even my skin. I then remove all tags from the cooking and baking wares, plug the sink, add some soap, and let them soak. I then manage to open the beer and begin this blog entry. It is just about time to go tend the dishes and find out where I need to begin after that is settled. Drats, I just saw from the list that I did forget one item, canola oil. Hmmm, I do have peanut oil and olive oil, and a half dozen other oils from safflower to grape seed, my usual being the first two mentioned. K does indicate any of these should work, so I may just have to use one of these. The peanut oil is much less expensive, yet the allergies to it may be devastating. Still, this is a trial run, the neighbor and his family who might receive a loaf or two are not allergic to peanuts, and the product should provide a perfect sample run. Yes, peanut oil it is. But, it is a little disheartening to not have done it right, as planned, precise. And, if I am to do this, I have no time to mess with going to the store. Idealism, 0, reality, 1; I am ok with that.
So, to the kitchen I go.
Bread, is it? That and more, I do believe.
Running late but running well. I did not arise before the noon hour, but when I did it was relatively quick and painless. Without effort, or even realization, I had stayed awake until after 5:00 this morning! So, the sleep period is fine again, if I can just shift it a bit.
I put on a spot of coffee, and checked the news. When the coffee was finished, I began consuming it and viewing the blogs. Then I began to map my day. The policeman needed a return call, the ingredients need to be turned to bread and in order to do so I realized last night that I needed bread pans, and there are little odds and ends I can and will get finished, started, or at least do a few intermediate steps toward their completion this day. The boat is not on time, but it is chugging right along.
I placed a call to the officer in question. It seems I would have been fine by calling him later. He works the second shift. I left a message with my name and phone number, and an invitation to call at his best convenience. I then popped into the shower and watched it rain. Luckily, there was no lightning with that downpour. Having dressed, all save the tying of my boots, I am just about prepared to face the crowds and make my way to a fine little culinary store which has served me so very well since I found it some years back. Prices are fair, they carry the best product for their inventory stocking capacity whether it be All-Clad, Kershaw Shun, or Oxo, rated by function more so than form, though truly not lacking that latter as I have seen it. The queer shops downtown are for the snobs, this one is for the humble home chef. It almost puts me to mind of the old five and dimes, or even some of the remaining good hardware stores, as a store model. Nice. So, bread pans, cooling racks, a salt pig, and maybe a honey dipper jar. Oh, and I will be looking for paraffin and cheese clothe for sure, and maybe parchment. I wish to at least inquire as to the price of these things, but more surely the last. If this bread thing works, I have a few recipes involving baking and dough which have been languishing, the greatest of these is Beef Wellington, old school.
Oh, I did many of the things on my list for last night. Bother the notion, since I stayed up all the night dinker doing. Still, it was good to get a list done, minus the nightcap. And, it will be quite easy to get to the bread this day, with a clean kitchen smiling at me and daring me to try. Now, to see if I can get the kitchen to hum along with my work and sing praises in the form of the sweet smell of fresh bread. Oh, I will check my list for the homemade cheese, I wish to try this on the third or fourth piece of fresh bread.
Off with his, hrmmm, boots? Bye.
I put on a spot of coffee, and checked the news. When the coffee was finished, I began consuming it and viewing the blogs. Then I began to map my day. The policeman needed a return call, the ingredients need to be turned to bread and in order to do so I realized last night that I needed bread pans, and there are little odds and ends I can and will get finished, started, or at least do a few intermediate steps toward their completion this day. The boat is not on time, but it is chugging right along.
I placed a call to the officer in question. It seems I would have been fine by calling him later. He works the second shift. I left a message with my name and phone number, and an invitation to call at his best convenience. I then popped into the shower and watched it rain. Luckily, there was no lightning with that downpour. Having dressed, all save the tying of my boots, I am just about prepared to face the crowds and make my way to a fine little culinary store which has served me so very well since I found it some years back. Prices are fair, they carry the best product for their inventory stocking capacity whether it be All-Clad, Kershaw Shun, or Oxo, rated by function more so than form, though truly not lacking that latter as I have seen it. The queer shops downtown are for the snobs, this one is for the humble home chef. It almost puts me to mind of the old five and dimes, or even some of the remaining good hardware stores, as a store model. Nice. So, bread pans, cooling racks, a salt pig, and maybe a honey dipper jar. Oh, and I will be looking for paraffin and cheese clothe for sure, and maybe parchment. I wish to at least inquire as to the price of these things, but more surely the last. If this bread thing works, I have a few recipes involving baking and dough which have been languishing, the greatest of these is Beef Wellington, old school.
Oh, I did many of the things on my list for last night. Bother the notion, since I stayed up all the night dinker doing. Still, it was good to get a list done, minus the nightcap. And, it will be quite easy to get to the bread this day, with a clean kitchen smiling at me and daring me to try. Now, to see if I can get the kitchen to hum along with my work and sing praises in the form of the sweet smell of fresh bread. Oh, I will check my list for the homemade cheese, I wish to try this on the third or fourth piece of fresh bread.
Off with his, hrmmm, boots? Bye.
A weird day, but the harmonics are improving. Hum, see?
I was awakened, roughly through my heavy sleep, by one of my favorite pests. She had clothes to launder, a hankering for some Scrabble and of course, she was hungry. MEOW, I thought I heard. After going through a number of menu options, millet and barley, steamed in milk, with a dab of maple syrup seemed to be the preferred item (it having been cooked and the refrigerated aforehand). And so it was. I had also posed honey and molasses, but maple syrup won out. After which, we played two games of Scrabble, both of which she won. I feel a little better, actually. After these were done, the laundry too was completed and it was time for her to go.
While here, she defined and ensured plans which we have been discussing. It seems the lady is interested in going for a bit of a camping spin. She is not sure which day it will be until her schedule has been completed and posted for her perusal. With the knowledge, we will plan our escape. I will add her kayak to my rack, her to the passenger seat, our gear to the back, and some number of miles under the tread until we reach some place she wants to go. She seems to know where this place is. As I am improving, I may be able to add this place to my knowledge data base for future reference. It is amazing what being awake can mean. I will let her off, she will kayak to our camping spot, I will head to the camp, set up, perhaps prepare a fire and meal, but certainly I will fish. A night out, a little fresh air, and if I think it safe, perhaps a dip. No skinny on that last, since I am not and would not anywhile. Hmm, if I get lucky enough, fried fish would not be a bad later evening snack.
After she left, I truly enjoyed doing absolutely nothing of consequence. A bit of dabbling there, some looking here, a little of that, some of this, and nothing completed. Still, it was a fine waste of time, as wastes of time go. Finally, I decided I had better do something. I grabbed my list of things to get, added a few items to the list, considered where I could go, and out the door I went… with no clue as to what would happen.
I drove around a bit, first. Just looking and listening to my music. As I was driving, I realized I could and should return the videos I had rented first thing as planned, setting them where I would not forget slightly before leaving in preperation. So, I returned to the cave to get them since I knew where they were. Upon my return, I espied my neighbors wife outside with her youngest. Wishing to inquire and seeing the opportunity, I wave to ensure a welcome. It is returned, so I saunter over and request the goods. It seems the lad is just not yet ready to graduate to newborn status. He seems to have a case of cold feet, or is fretting that very thing. Mother, on the other hand, would like junior to kindly take his leave. The doctor has eased her mind with a definite due date. After the talk, I headed to the cave and retrieved the videos, left right where I would not forget them as I left the cave the first time.
I returned those and thought to see what else was available to rent. Hmmm, let me see, there was… nothing I wanted to see and even more that I would not wish to see. So, I hum about the video rental area an extra time to show that I really tried, then out the door I go with all the money I had intended to spend. I get into the X’ter as if I know where I am going, and I do, forward. I then decide to go to the trail. I will not do a complete circuit, but there is a side path that leads to some benches and the river. I take my comic book secret path to my hidden benches, both craftily secreted in plain sight. I sit, ponder, do nothing, ponder, then returned to the vehicle and started back to the cave. Then I remembered a few things on the list. A few goldfish for Rocky, he gets so lonely even if he is a poor playmate, and I wanted to see about belts. Walmart is all that is open, so I decide to stop in. They are also the store I go to for goldfish, so one stop shopping or browsing makes it even easy enough for me.
I have not liked the belts I have purchased in Wal-mart before, and I have looked at some of my favored clothier’s belts (which I have liked no more than Walmart’s belts). I finally find the section and begin inspecting belts. I only went down to a size 40 belt, I decided this after trying on several of each size and brand. After size was established, I begin twisting, pulling, yanking, and trying to destroy the belts that fit my taste and size. I find two which are not yielding that I like and grab them. Then to the pet aisle. I ask a black man for assistance in the pet department, goldfish are needed. He will get right on that. Fifteen minutes later I get my own, as expected. The check out girl is not so pleased. Chubby, scarred, disinterested except for being obviously unhappy, she calls for assistance. And, ten minutes later, gets it. Off I go. Should we have left together, I am sure she would have won a race to anywhere. Flying is faster and big bottoms only make harsh corners a bit easier by containing the broom in a Manchurian witch’s famous favorite death grip. No, seriously, crack kills. Though it is probably hell on her laundry bill.
A little supper is prepared after I return. I had considered eating out, probably one of the garbage venders one drives through. No, I want to hold on to my nickels, plus, I have better food at home. And, indeed I did. All day I have been hungry for rice, bean, and beef something. A cold chicken hindquarter was lunch and a spiffy one, actually. I was not sure if tacos where on the menu, or if fancy nachos was the entrée de jour. Nachos it was. The hamburger was cooked, the beans and rice warmed as it finished, and cheese was allowed to melt atop the lot as it cooled. It was about a pound of each, and perhaps a quarter of a pound of cheese, spiced to my preference even if it seemed a bit mild to my tastes after all. The mix then heartily sprinkled over a layer of corn chips, then another layer was created above the first, a portion of my mother’s homemade salsa, a little sour cream, and a glass of milk finished the show grandly. Well, it was much better than drive through fare by a long shot. And though I ate well, I still have enough for two more meals, should I eat exactly half so much as I did this evening. Before you go there, you should know that WAS using constraint. I do believe I could have finished the pan.
As I was doing that, I decided it was about time to brew more tea, this time with mint, dried spearmint leaves. I will let it cool, then refrigerate it. I would like to see how it tastes unadulterated. After which, I decided a little update was in order on the blog. Now to repair to the kitchen and repair the damage while prepping for a loaf or four in the morning, maybe a; nightcap, shower, glass of tea, news and blog review, then for sure a pillow fight with the bed, a losing one.
While here, she defined and ensured plans which we have been discussing. It seems the lady is interested in going for a bit of a camping spin. She is not sure which day it will be until her schedule has been completed and posted for her perusal. With the knowledge, we will plan our escape. I will add her kayak to my rack, her to the passenger seat, our gear to the back, and some number of miles under the tread until we reach some place she wants to go. She seems to know where this place is. As I am improving, I may be able to add this place to my knowledge data base for future reference. It is amazing what being awake can mean. I will let her off, she will kayak to our camping spot, I will head to the camp, set up, perhaps prepare a fire and meal, but certainly I will fish. A night out, a little fresh air, and if I think it safe, perhaps a dip. No skinny on that last, since I am not and would not anywhile. Hmm, if I get lucky enough, fried fish would not be a bad later evening snack.
After she left, I truly enjoyed doing absolutely nothing of consequence. A bit of dabbling there, some looking here, a little of that, some of this, and nothing completed. Still, it was a fine waste of time, as wastes of time go. Finally, I decided I had better do something. I grabbed my list of things to get, added a few items to the list, considered where I could go, and out the door I went… with no clue as to what would happen.
I drove around a bit, first. Just looking and listening to my music. As I was driving, I realized I could and should return the videos I had rented first thing as planned, setting them where I would not forget slightly before leaving in preperation. So, I returned to the cave to get them since I knew where they were. Upon my return, I espied my neighbors wife outside with her youngest. Wishing to inquire and seeing the opportunity, I wave to ensure a welcome. It is returned, so I saunter over and request the goods. It seems the lad is just not yet ready to graduate to newborn status. He seems to have a case of cold feet, or is fretting that very thing. Mother, on the other hand, would like junior to kindly take his leave. The doctor has eased her mind with a definite due date. After the talk, I headed to the cave and retrieved the videos, left right where I would not forget them as I left the cave the first time.
I returned those and thought to see what else was available to rent. Hmmm, let me see, there was… nothing I wanted to see and even more that I would not wish to see. So, I hum about the video rental area an extra time to show that I really tried, then out the door I go with all the money I had intended to spend. I get into the X’ter as if I know where I am going, and I do, forward. I then decide to go to the trail. I will not do a complete circuit, but there is a side path that leads to some benches and the river. I take my comic book secret path to my hidden benches, both craftily secreted in plain sight. I sit, ponder, do nothing, ponder, then returned to the vehicle and started back to the cave. Then I remembered a few things on the list. A few goldfish for Rocky, he gets so lonely even if he is a poor playmate, and I wanted to see about belts. Walmart is all that is open, so I decide to stop in. They are also the store I go to for goldfish, so one stop shopping or browsing makes it even easy enough for me.
I have not liked the belts I have purchased in Wal-mart before, and I have looked at some of my favored clothier’s belts (which I have liked no more than Walmart’s belts). I finally find the section and begin inspecting belts. I only went down to a size 40 belt, I decided this after trying on several of each size and brand. After size was established, I begin twisting, pulling, yanking, and trying to destroy the belts that fit my taste and size. I find two which are not yielding that I like and grab them. Then to the pet aisle. I ask a black man for assistance in the pet department, goldfish are needed. He will get right on that. Fifteen minutes later I get my own, as expected. The check out girl is not so pleased. Chubby, scarred, disinterested except for being obviously unhappy, she calls for assistance. And, ten minutes later, gets it. Off I go. Should we have left together, I am sure she would have won a race to anywhere. Flying is faster and big bottoms only make harsh corners a bit easier by containing the broom in a Manchurian witch’s famous favorite death grip. No, seriously, crack kills. Though it is probably hell on her laundry bill.
A little supper is prepared after I return. I had considered eating out, probably one of the garbage venders one drives through. No, I want to hold on to my nickels, plus, I have better food at home. And, indeed I did. All day I have been hungry for rice, bean, and beef something. A cold chicken hindquarter was lunch and a spiffy one, actually. I was not sure if tacos where on the menu, or if fancy nachos was the entrée de jour. Nachos it was. The hamburger was cooked, the beans and rice warmed as it finished, and cheese was allowed to melt atop the lot as it cooled. It was about a pound of each, and perhaps a quarter of a pound of cheese, spiced to my preference even if it seemed a bit mild to my tastes after all. The mix then heartily sprinkled over a layer of corn chips, then another layer was created above the first, a portion of my mother’s homemade salsa, a little sour cream, and a glass of milk finished the show grandly. Well, it was much better than drive through fare by a long shot. And though I ate well, I still have enough for two more meals, should I eat exactly half so much as I did this evening. Before you go there, you should know that WAS using constraint. I do believe I could have finished the pan.
As I was doing that, I decided it was about time to brew more tea, this time with mint, dried spearmint leaves. I will let it cool, then refrigerate it. I would like to see how it tastes unadulterated. After which, I decided a little update was in order on the blog. Now to repair to the kitchen and repair the damage while prepping for a loaf or four in the morning, maybe a; nightcap, shower, glass of tea, news and blog review, then for sure a pillow fight with the bed, a losing one.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Goodnight. A blah end to a blah day.
So much for plans. It looks like I have to get back on my medication and get it back into full affect. Until then, I am grounded. Foolishness, in spite of truth; I love the reality if I hate the facts. The reality is the medications work and splendidly, the facts are that in helping another and not taking my medications, I have set myself back. At least it is temporary. This meant no confession and no church today, probably not tomorrow though it is a goal. And, I may have to see what I can get done with a confession more quickly if out of normal order, it is time. I cannot accept Eucharist until I do. In another arena, I can give the officer who called me a return call Monday even if my malaise continues. Worst case scenario we play phone tag for a bit and settle in eventually on a time and place, best scenario I am awake and able to receive him into my home for a discussion if he works on these matters. I am not sure what he can offer, or how he can direct me, but I am a gambler. One with an ace or two up his sleeve, I do not like to lose even if liking has little to do with reality and aces only go so far.
I roasted chicken last night, as well as ribs. The ribs were fantastic, and I am just about to try the chicken. I used a roaster my lady friend bought for me. I cannot remember the exact details. Either it was all or half pay back for a loan. If half of it was loan reimbursement, then the rest was Christmas, loan thanks, and other unassociated thanks. She did ask which manufacturer I prefer, and I had to look into it. Though I usually go All-Clad, after looking into their roaster, I had to decline. I do start with my favored brands, but then I almost always research and compare products. Usually All-Clad pans are special because of the incorporation of aluminum inside the steel in the bottom and up to reasonably near the tops of the pots and pans. This was not the case with their roaster. So, I found another maker, Calphalon (contemporary stainless) and a preferred roasting rack, All-Clad, for use in it. I went with the All-Clad rack, as in spite of the failings of their roaster, their rack is superior, and initially I could not see if the Calphalon came with a rack or not. The reason I wished for an aluminum core was that it allows for the production of gravy in the roaster right on the stove without warping the pan (and I would think eventually ruining the pan). So, with the drippings, just my understanding of things and no recipe, I tried just such a stunt. I made chicken gravy.
Now, I will not say one other human on this planet will like my gravy. I certainly will not claim that it is as good as your grandmother’s or even your mother’s gravy. What I will say is that to me it was excellent, uhm, very good is more like it. I believe I now know the simple nature of gravy production and henceforth will have no concern on the matter, if practice and experiments with spices will enhance quality. After years of other methods and consistent failure, I am well pleased with this.
As I am heating my food in the oven, I decided to add a touch of tarragon to the gravy, which is in a ramekin on the plate. I cannot wait to taste it again. Oh, there is the beep
A pleasant meal. And better, few dishes!
The Queen had a request. Today was the final day for a specific sale and she was all done in. Could I, she wondered, make my way to the said store and make purchase of the noted items, in such and so number and flavor? It was a message, so a quick call to the Q.O.D. with an assurance, and off I went like a speeding snail. Yeah, well, I needed to shower. Then, hmm, who knows what else. Oh, my list of spices! I looked over my supplies, wrote down the spices and portions that were desired, and headed right out the door to sit in my vehicle while getting the cd’s I have been listening to out and putting a new set in. *sigh* Fast as a 1990 modem, reliable as a Russian _______, accommodating as a Chinese Official! At least I got out of the house. I got to the store and realized I left my list of spices right where I would not forget it (and technically, did not forget as I knew right were it was). Still, I made off with most of what she wanted and at least some of what I wanted, spearmint to add to some of my tea and a few spices I was sure I needed. I told you it was messy around here.
Something that may or may not be throwing my game off is that this morning I went on the patch. Waking up and getting going without a pinch between thumb and index finger relayed to cheek and gum was a bit harsh. It took a good long time for the patch to begin dosing. I am pretty sure I am still a bit off kilter just for that reason. Well, I thought I would try to post in any case.
I roasted chicken last night, as well as ribs. The ribs were fantastic, and I am just about to try the chicken. I used a roaster my lady friend bought for me. I cannot remember the exact details. Either it was all or half pay back for a loan. If half of it was loan reimbursement, then the rest was Christmas, loan thanks, and other unassociated thanks. She did ask which manufacturer I prefer, and I had to look into it. Though I usually go All-Clad, after looking into their roaster, I had to decline. I do start with my favored brands, but then I almost always research and compare products. Usually All-Clad pans are special because of the incorporation of aluminum inside the steel in the bottom and up to reasonably near the tops of the pots and pans. This was not the case with their roaster. So, I found another maker, Calphalon (contemporary stainless) and a preferred roasting rack, All-Clad, for use in it. I went with the All-Clad rack, as in spite of the failings of their roaster, their rack is superior, and initially I could not see if the Calphalon came with a rack or not. The reason I wished for an aluminum core was that it allows for the production of gravy in the roaster right on the stove without warping the pan (and I would think eventually ruining the pan). So, with the drippings, just my understanding of things and no recipe, I tried just such a stunt. I made chicken gravy.
Now, I will not say one other human on this planet will like my gravy. I certainly will not claim that it is as good as your grandmother’s or even your mother’s gravy. What I will say is that to me it was excellent, uhm, very good is more like it. I believe I now know the simple nature of gravy production and henceforth will have no concern on the matter, if practice and experiments with spices will enhance quality. After years of other methods and consistent failure, I am well pleased with this.
As I am heating my food in the oven, I decided to add a touch of tarragon to the gravy, which is in a ramekin on the plate. I cannot wait to taste it again. Oh, there is the beep
A pleasant meal. And better, few dishes!
The Queen had a request. Today was the final day for a specific sale and she was all done in. Could I, she wondered, make my way to the said store and make purchase of the noted items, in such and so number and flavor? It was a message, so a quick call to the Q.O.D. with an assurance, and off I went like a speeding snail. Yeah, well, I needed to shower. Then, hmm, who knows what else. Oh, my list of spices! I looked over my supplies, wrote down the spices and portions that were desired, and headed right out the door to sit in my vehicle while getting the cd’s I have been listening to out and putting a new set in. *sigh* Fast as a 1990 modem, reliable as a Russian _______, accommodating as a Chinese Official! At least I got out of the house. I got to the store and realized I left my list of spices right where I would not forget it (and technically, did not forget as I knew right were it was). Still, I made off with most of what she wanted and at least some of what I wanted, spearmint to add to some of my tea and a few spices I was sure I needed. I told you it was messy around here.
Something that may or may not be throwing my game off is that this morning I went on the patch. Waking up and getting going without a pinch between thumb and index finger relayed to cheek and gum was a bit harsh. It took a good long time for the patch to begin dosing. I am pretty sure I am still a bit off kilter just for that reason. Well, I thought I would try to post in any case.
A piece of ∏ on my mind.
I just finished watching "∏" (as in greek letter and math symbol). I had wanted to watch in when if first came out. For some odd reason, I was warned off it by a number of fellow engineering students and a professor, in a number of separate situations. Silliness, it was a show like any other. They might have done better warning me off Conspiracy Theory, that actually got my juices flowing. I did enjoy ∏.
∏ underlines why I chose not to pursue math further than I have and will be required to do. One last course and I am done with the stuff. Except of course for usage. There are only questions in it, and no answers to be found pursuing it that our limited rationality augmented by the finest computers which do not yet exist can come close to fathoming. Nothing it provides will be useful, even to the lowest step toward heaven it is now believed by some, and falsely, to reach. It is a fine pursuit for those who may safely enter the realm of questions. I have yet to meet such a one. I have only seen lost men sure that this theory they propose will be the answer, until it fails or they fail to complete the proof, and is repeated until their time is done. Some of these men are more lost than others, but none are untouched. It has only given them something to do before they die and after they were born. A few produced useful work and provided useful techniques in antiquity. Most today are quite sterile of even functional value. Let them play, they are a rather harmless lot.
In the movie, the protagonist presumed a number of things, which given the scope and direction of the movie seem to bolster my belief that movies are produced by the simple for the simpler, perhaps even my thesis that mathematicians are lost. All I know is, if I propose a character and setting, I could present no functional timeline in which that character learns nothing and no one else sees folly where it is plain. This character seems not to see what the movie seems to present, albeit sharply implicitly. None of the other characters see it, none of the sequences hint about it, and I think it may have been lost to those who wrote, those who produced, and most who watched. Simply put, the movie, through characters and evidence continually claims, roughly, that the universe and all is based upon numbers, that it is numbers. And, it argues there may or may not be a way to understand those numbers, how they sequence, and thus gain true knowledge. Yet everything in the movie actually indicates something quite different. It develops that the numbers only represent the universe. Something I have seen clearly forever, it seems. As well, though not something I get from the movie but believe, numbers may hold truth, but only past truth in such a manner we might perceive currently and no substance as absolutes. Through further iterations and manipulations, the future might or might not be seen, that is debatable, though that would require perfect understanding and reckoning, which is undeniably unattainable currently (currently as in; while inhabiting this life form).
Much as an artist who paints a picture of a fair maiden, living in a castle, with many servants, piles of gold, and many other blessings may never enter that painting and marry the damsel represented or lay claim any of the other rendered elements, so to can scientists and mathematicians never entertain their theories or numbers in form. It is madness. It matters not an iota how correct those numbers, theories, or portraits seem to be or even are, they are not real, cannot be realized. Simple, really, and frustrating thought it must be. This is why I should pursue engineering, should my will and way persist. My work will be real should I deign to dignify the craft with my coming of age, collecting of mental tools, and if all holds with a refurbished hail demeanor. Lord knows I shall never conquer the world of painting, prose, love, or politics. Even my shadows present problems for me at times. *laughs* We shall see.
Still, I do believe I enjoyed the movie. Something nameless and simple about it attracted my attention and I understand questions. Perhaps too, I know something of the labyrinth in which those questions may lead. I know about stepping back, letting go, and finding other paths in different directions. One might even say, if I thought his solution would work to such a degree, at one time I might have tried it as the lesser of darkness’s. So, I could recommend this. Though I think it is not for most, a trinket for geeks from some movie maker. But a major possible joy to those in this niche.
∏ underlines why I chose not to pursue math further than I have and will be required to do. One last course and I am done with the stuff. Except of course for usage. There are only questions in it, and no answers to be found pursuing it that our limited rationality augmented by the finest computers which do not yet exist can come close to fathoming. Nothing it provides will be useful, even to the lowest step toward heaven it is now believed by some, and falsely, to reach. It is a fine pursuit for those who may safely enter the realm of questions. I have yet to meet such a one. I have only seen lost men sure that this theory they propose will be the answer, until it fails or they fail to complete the proof, and is repeated until their time is done. Some of these men are more lost than others, but none are untouched. It has only given them something to do before they die and after they were born. A few produced useful work and provided useful techniques in antiquity. Most today are quite sterile of even functional value. Let them play, they are a rather harmless lot.
In the movie, the protagonist presumed a number of things, which given the scope and direction of the movie seem to bolster my belief that movies are produced by the simple for the simpler, perhaps even my thesis that mathematicians are lost. All I know is, if I propose a character and setting, I could present no functional timeline in which that character learns nothing and no one else sees folly where it is plain. This character seems not to see what the movie seems to present, albeit sharply implicitly. None of the other characters see it, none of the sequences hint about it, and I think it may have been lost to those who wrote, those who produced, and most who watched. Simply put, the movie, through characters and evidence continually claims, roughly, that the universe and all is based upon numbers, that it is numbers. And, it argues there may or may not be a way to understand those numbers, how they sequence, and thus gain true knowledge. Yet everything in the movie actually indicates something quite different. It develops that the numbers only represent the universe. Something I have seen clearly forever, it seems. As well, though not something I get from the movie but believe, numbers may hold truth, but only past truth in such a manner we might perceive currently and no substance as absolutes. Through further iterations and manipulations, the future might or might not be seen, that is debatable, though that would require perfect understanding and reckoning, which is undeniably unattainable currently (currently as in; while inhabiting this life form).
Much as an artist who paints a picture of a fair maiden, living in a castle, with many servants, piles of gold, and many other blessings may never enter that painting and marry the damsel represented or lay claim any of the other rendered elements, so to can scientists and mathematicians never entertain their theories or numbers in form. It is madness. It matters not an iota how correct those numbers, theories, or portraits seem to be or even are, they are not real, cannot be realized. Simple, really, and frustrating thought it must be. This is why I should pursue engineering, should my will and way persist. My work will be real should I deign to dignify the craft with my coming of age, collecting of mental tools, and if all holds with a refurbished hail demeanor. Lord knows I shall never conquer the world of painting, prose, love, or politics. Even my shadows present problems for me at times. *laughs* We shall see.
Still, I do believe I enjoyed the movie. Something nameless and simple about it attracted my attention and I understand questions. Perhaps too, I know something of the labyrinth in which those questions may lead. I know about stepping back, letting go, and finding other paths in different directions. One might even say, if I thought his solution would work to such a degree, at one time I might have tried it as the lesser of darkness’s. So, I could recommend this. Though I think it is not for most, a trinket for geeks from some movie maker. But a major possible joy to those in this niche.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Well, in a nutshell... (the size of Manhattan)
Tiger Lily had called early, she was forced to leave a message. I slept late, as I had spent a good deal of time and into the later evening with her. We had watched Star Trek II and III, (Revenge of Khan and In Search of Spock, give or take on the titles) last night into the late. After the first movie, she had wished me to return to the cave and bring butter, oil, and tea back. The woman is a culinary mess. So, I get these, she pops popcorn (which she did have), we brew some of my mint tea, and watched the second movie. Perfect, in a way. She provided for the movies and the popcorn which she popped, I provided the oil, butter, and tea, and did the fetching. We both enjoyed both movies, but she really enjoyed the second. She did not believe she had seen it. I had brought Star Trek III because I was certain it was integral to Star Trek II, and it proved out. It pleases me to do things correctly, to get things right, and to complete tasks wholly. Ah, a pleasant night. So, back to her call.
Her message indicated she wanted me to drive her around, and maybe mess around, platonic folks as that is my rule. So, I call and see what the current situation is, though I inform her that it is nearly time for my doctors appointment. She was just a wee put out that I was not awake in the morning to pamper her a bit, it is in her voice and wording. She is feeling better and she will be going to work tonight, she says. Good, I say… very good. Now I can get back to my life. And more, I was a little worried for my song bird. She needed water and a serving of beans. Well, ok, my cooked and stored beans, Coop beans, or something else. A little clarity little one, I request. Your beans, and it is not a question. Beans, a serving, and water as soon as may be. She knows it is my payday, and I know she knows. *sigh* And I know she is going to stay up until I deliver, but there simply is no time before my appointment since I have to buy water as well and cannot just give her a container of mine.
As in most doctors visits, I get to see the nurse first. We informally discuss a few things as she was weighing me and then taking vital signs. Among the topics discussed was tobacco, she brought this up. I knew the VA did not offer a regimen of the nicotine patch that I had found successful the time it worked, then messed up by visiting my mother too soon after quitting, she being a chain smoker. I did not think the VA offered 21 mg patches either, it did not when I had asked before. Yes and no, she believed. Yes, we offer the 21mg patch now, but probably not for a month stretch in each flavor. She suggested I ask the doctor though as he might know better. I have been trying to figure out how to purchase my supply of the patch up front, as I have tried before, only to have my finances come a little short and the venture end as an expensive waste. And, I would like to quit. Chewing tobacco, Cophenhagen to be specific, since I was 9 or 12 or some foolish age as such. I also indicated that, as I am becoming active, my feet are beginning to pain me to no small degree, only a 3 out of 10 today though. I have kept at it anyway, and it was not a part of the previous problems so I had not brought it up with the doctor yet. Yes, a doctor thing for sure, she indicated. Nice lady, really. She is a little sad seeming at times, she is a bit older, but she has a clean crisp motherly nature. I did enjoy our time and visit, even in it’s professional constraints. I hope she is somebody’s grandmother, as she would be a good one.
I am shepherded to the doctor, who leads me to a check-up room. I think the doctor was impressed, just by my appearance. I am always clean cut, showered, dressed casual though well in a humble manner, and courteous. Today all is as usual but I am walking a bit taller and stronger, he sees more than just a little lost weight and more size difference than the numbers take into account, and my eyes and mind are unquestionably focused, and then I present a smile and the hand shake of a man coming back into his own. When I described life, even with this last week’s interruptions, the first impression grew to a satisfaction. A satisfaction in his work, in my efforts, and some extra just for the fact that life is not always bad and he was getting to share in a small piece of that. Life is moving along at a good clip, I am doing much better, I tell him. It has been the longest positive stable stretch in years at a little over a month and a half now, he says. He wants to keep things as they are for the moment and see if my activity will lower my blood pressure the touch more he would find respectable. Though he did put me back on the water pill, as I suspected he would, he reassured me that the dose was indeed small and if I had had no difficulties with sun exposure that I probably would not. He suggested a hat, a long sleeve shirt, and jeans as better than sunscreen. I concurred and assured, and will. As well, he would like to maintain the nurse visits. Rocking such a problematic boat does not seem to be his order of the day, in six weeks he would be happy to dismiss the miss if I still so desired and things were still on the up. He offered to let me insist on ending the nurse visits or not going with the water pill. I told him he has been doing quite well with this so I am comfortable leaving steerage in his hands and that his reasons were sound. But more and though I did not tell him as much, he did not lie.
Onto new matters. He knows how hammer toed I am, all but my big toes point straight down, though this has not been an issue until recently. Sitting barefoot in a chair or in bed results in little toe contact with hard shoes and reality. And my big toes have almost no flexibility on their usual axis. So, he prepares to send me to prosthetics for shoe inserts after we finish and sets up a referral to the podiatric clinic. My mother already said she would stay with me a bit if surgery is needed and I already know I will not go in twice for surgery if both feet are indicated. Though I would do it all at once with or without help. Hit the damn nail until it is in or leave the work to real men! He prescribed the patch, the whole works of it. So, tomorrow, I start those. And, I will be quite happy. I was scratching my head and recounting numbers trying to figure a way to work that cost. I paid myself last time, and it was about $250. Plus, I was just about out of tobacco. Perfect timing!
So, after the doctor, a visit to drop my information at the pharmacy for filling (not all of it can be done electronically), and a quick visit to obtain boot inserts and end up receiving two pair of inserts plus being informed I could and should refill the inserts in six months by letting them know, then downstairs in order to wait for my prescriptions, and then I was finished. I was a bit amazed, having arrived a half hour early as is my current custom, I did everything and was on my way in an hour and a half, or more, an hour after seeing my doctor. I headed to the store first thing, filled some of my requirements while getting her water. More milk, MY kind this time and two whole gallons of the full fat stuff, seven and a half gallons of water plus 2 gallon jugs for her, a few treats (hush), some ribs to roast while I roast the chicken hindquarters tonight, and a few other odds and ends. Back to the cave, put things away, separate her water, put some beans in container, and over to her place I go. She almost thanks me, though she is a little sore I did not play earlier and a little unhappy it took so long, and I believe she is not the most pleased to be going to work again. Ah, but papa bear has done his job, and the broken winged chickadee is well and about to fly, like it or not. *push* hehehehe
Now, what trouble can I get into? Hmm, I would like to call the officer back and see if we cannot meet or whether that is of any use. I need to wait a bit on the neighbors, as the stork is circling their house, preparing to drop a little goo-bot on their already chaotic life, however I would like to get an update on their tactical situation. Gee, I think I am sweating it more than the husband and in some ways even the wife, as she seems more interested in timing and the labor pains than the delivery! And I want a wife and kids? *sigh* Yea. *hits hand with hammer* I do. *places finger in pencil sharpener* I am sure it will complete me. *slams hand in car door* I think about it and, yea… no, yes.. proper, solid, yes. *laughs* I never really was a man to take the easy way, and pain just seems to be a healthy part of life, beyond, it is not all pain, not even a majority I should think. The whole pain thing is just to scare off those who are not ready, mostly.
I need to get back out to the path, find some other paths, go fishing, get to mass and probably confession which they seem to be calling something else these days, go swimming, get back in to the rock wall, and just begin taking life by the horns again. Though I must add this. This last week was a true joy. To be able to be a comfort and help to someone, to play and enjoy a little company, and to feel as if I was able to repay some old debts was more gratifying than I can say. It was not easy, it was not always what I preferred to do at some moments, it took patients especially in the heat, but it was worthwhile in every way. And, I did quite well. I did not get short, tired, or flimsy. I did not catch her illness (as I told her I would not, every five to seven years is my deal with that, I get a two week fevered rollercoaster ride of delusional heaven and hell). But, I am tired now, I will enjoy a few days off to recharge, then get going with confession tomorrow morning, church in the evening, and rest Sunday with maybe a little target practice in the afternoon. For this purpose, and while I was renting videos per the Queen’s commands yesterday, I picked up some of the videos on Bane’s list, and a newer one which I had missed in the theatres but which, after careful review, may pass my Hollywood stench muster.
The lion ponders his many prey. The grasses that sways to and fro catch his eye. A thatch of which he attacks in jest, play, safety, and joy, sharpening his nature. Then his thoughts and senses find traces of the jackals, gazelles, water buffalo, and zebras which surround him. Those which are no small joy to deal with, but which carry their own and real dangers. He thinks of the others, the lionesses, the nearby males, and what each means. He thinks of his days in the sun and in pride, of growing and leaving his mother’s pride, and he thinks of a pride of his own. And this one wonders many things besides. But his hungers are haunting, yearning, incessant, and perhaps insidious, forcing him from his reverie, destroying his peace. He is himself again, and moving. It is time.
Her message indicated she wanted me to drive her around, and maybe mess around, platonic folks as that is my rule. So, I call and see what the current situation is, though I inform her that it is nearly time for my doctors appointment. She was just a wee put out that I was not awake in the morning to pamper her a bit, it is in her voice and wording. She is feeling better and she will be going to work tonight, she says. Good, I say… very good. Now I can get back to my life. And more, I was a little worried for my song bird. She needed water and a serving of beans. Well, ok, my cooked and stored beans, Coop beans, or something else. A little clarity little one, I request. Your beans, and it is not a question. Beans, a serving, and water as soon as may be. She knows it is my payday, and I know she knows. *sigh* And I know she is going to stay up until I deliver, but there simply is no time before my appointment since I have to buy water as well and cannot just give her a container of mine.
As in most doctors visits, I get to see the nurse first. We informally discuss a few things as she was weighing me and then taking vital signs. Among the topics discussed was tobacco, she brought this up. I knew the VA did not offer a regimen of the nicotine patch that I had found successful the time it worked, then messed up by visiting my mother too soon after quitting, she being a chain smoker. I did not think the VA offered 21 mg patches either, it did not when I had asked before. Yes and no, she believed. Yes, we offer the 21mg patch now, but probably not for a month stretch in each flavor. She suggested I ask the doctor though as he might know better. I have been trying to figure out how to purchase my supply of the patch up front, as I have tried before, only to have my finances come a little short and the venture end as an expensive waste. And, I would like to quit. Chewing tobacco, Cophenhagen to be specific, since I was 9 or 12 or some foolish age as such. I also indicated that, as I am becoming active, my feet are beginning to pain me to no small degree, only a 3 out of 10 today though. I have kept at it anyway, and it was not a part of the previous problems so I had not brought it up with the doctor yet. Yes, a doctor thing for sure, she indicated. Nice lady, really. She is a little sad seeming at times, she is a bit older, but she has a clean crisp motherly nature. I did enjoy our time and visit, even in it’s professional constraints. I hope she is somebody’s grandmother, as she would be a good one.
I am shepherded to the doctor, who leads me to a check-up room. I think the doctor was impressed, just by my appearance. I am always clean cut, showered, dressed casual though well in a humble manner, and courteous. Today all is as usual but I am walking a bit taller and stronger, he sees more than just a little lost weight and more size difference than the numbers take into account, and my eyes and mind are unquestionably focused, and then I present a smile and the hand shake of a man coming back into his own. When I described life, even with this last week’s interruptions, the first impression grew to a satisfaction. A satisfaction in his work, in my efforts, and some extra just for the fact that life is not always bad and he was getting to share in a small piece of that. Life is moving along at a good clip, I am doing much better, I tell him. It has been the longest positive stable stretch in years at a little over a month and a half now, he says. He wants to keep things as they are for the moment and see if my activity will lower my blood pressure the touch more he would find respectable. Though he did put me back on the water pill, as I suspected he would, he reassured me that the dose was indeed small and if I had had no difficulties with sun exposure that I probably would not. He suggested a hat, a long sleeve shirt, and jeans as better than sunscreen. I concurred and assured, and will. As well, he would like to maintain the nurse visits. Rocking such a problematic boat does not seem to be his order of the day, in six weeks he would be happy to dismiss the miss if I still so desired and things were still on the up. He offered to let me insist on ending the nurse visits or not going with the water pill. I told him he has been doing quite well with this so I am comfortable leaving steerage in his hands and that his reasons were sound. But more and though I did not tell him as much, he did not lie.
Onto new matters. He knows how hammer toed I am, all but my big toes point straight down, though this has not been an issue until recently. Sitting barefoot in a chair or in bed results in little toe contact with hard shoes and reality. And my big toes have almost no flexibility on their usual axis. So, he prepares to send me to prosthetics for shoe inserts after we finish and sets up a referral to the podiatric clinic. My mother already said she would stay with me a bit if surgery is needed and I already know I will not go in twice for surgery if both feet are indicated. Though I would do it all at once with or without help. Hit the damn nail until it is in or leave the work to real men! He prescribed the patch, the whole works of it. So, tomorrow, I start those. And, I will be quite happy. I was scratching my head and recounting numbers trying to figure a way to work that cost. I paid myself last time, and it was about $250. Plus, I was just about out of tobacco. Perfect timing!
So, after the doctor, a visit to drop my information at the pharmacy for filling (not all of it can be done electronically), and a quick visit to obtain boot inserts and end up receiving two pair of inserts plus being informed I could and should refill the inserts in six months by letting them know, then downstairs in order to wait for my prescriptions, and then I was finished. I was a bit amazed, having arrived a half hour early as is my current custom, I did everything and was on my way in an hour and a half, or more, an hour after seeing my doctor. I headed to the store first thing, filled some of my requirements while getting her water. More milk, MY kind this time and two whole gallons of the full fat stuff, seven and a half gallons of water plus 2 gallon jugs for her, a few treats (hush), some ribs to roast while I roast the chicken hindquarters tonight, and a few other odds and ends. Back to the cave, put things away, separate her water, put some beans in container, and over to her place I go. She almost thanks me, though she is a little sore I did not play earlier and a little unhappy it took so long, and I believe she is not the most pleased to be going to work again. Ah, but papa bear has done his job, and the broken winged chickadee is well and about to fly, like it or not. *push* hehehehe
Now, what trouble can I get into? Hmm, I would like to call the officer back and see if we cannot meet or whether that is of any use. I need to wait a bit on the neighbors, as the stork is circling their house, preparing to drop a little goo-bot on their already chaotic life, however I would like to get an update on their tactical situation. Gee, I think I am sweating it more than the husband and in some ways even the wife, as she seems more interested in timing and the labor pains than the delivery! And I want a wife and kids? *sigh* Yea. *hits hand with hammer* I do. *places finger in pencil sharpener* I am sure it will complete me. *slams hand in car door* I think about it and, yea… no, yes.. proper, solid, yes. *laughs* I never really was a man to take the easy way, and pain just seems to be a healthy part of life, beyond, it is not all pain, not even a majority I should think. The whole pain thing is just to scare off those who are not ready, mostly.
I need to get back out to the path, find some other paths, go fishing, get to mass and probably confession which they seem to be calling something else these days, go swimming, get back in to the rock wall, and just begin taking life by the horns again. Though I must add this. This last week was a true joy. To be able to be a comfort and help to someone, to play and enjoy a little company, and to feel as if I was able to repay some old debts was more gratifying than I can say. It was not easy, it was not always what I preferred to do at some moments, it took patients especially in the heat, but it was worthwhile in every way. And, I did quite well. I did not get short, tired, or flimsy. I did not catch her illness (as I told her I would not, every five to seven years is my deal with that, I get a two week fevered rollercoaster ride of delusional heaven and hell). But, I am tired now, I will enjoy a few days off to recharge, then get going with confession tomorrow morning, church in the evening, and rest Sunday with maybe a little target practice in the afternoon. For this purpose, and while I was renting videos per the Queen’s commands yesterday, I picked up some of the videos on Bane’s list, and a newer one which I had missed in the theatres but which, after careful review, may pass my Hollywood stench muster.
The lion ponders his many prey. The grasses that sways to and fro catch his eye. A thatch of which he attacks in jest, play, safety, and joy, sharpening his nature. Then his thoughts and senses find traces of the jackals, gazelles, water buffalo, and zebras which surround him. Those which are no small joy to deal with, but which carry their own and real dangers. He thinks of the others, the lionesses, the nearby males, and what each means. He thinks of his days in the sun and in pride, of growing and leaving his mother’s pride, and he thinks of a pride of his own. And this one wonders many things besides. But his hungers are haunting, yearning, incessant, and perhaps insidious, forcing him from his reverie, destroying his peace. He is himself again, and moving. It is time.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
This one is a show stopper.
How nice. I saw my first drug deal go down today. Two black men approached another, there was the typical banter. They were too far away, among other things, for me to hear. I saw the singular remove a little rectangular fold of paper and watched him move it toward one of the other men. I could not see it pass between the two, but I saw that it was no longer in the hand of the initiator when we brought it out from between the two of them. Fine you say. Except that there was an 8 year old and a 6 year old playing a few yards away. Fine you say. But it was out my kitchen window where I saw this. Stuff your “fine”.
I called the police, what a help. Now, to decide what to do. Either I get some satisfaction, or I move. I will go into the station, I will speak with my neighbors, and I will decide what to do from there. But, I am leaning toward moving out. I am thinking the police have no power. The politicians locally, in this Democratic state, and at the federal level have pretty much turned their backs on the issue, and others. But where to go, this is not simple. This junk is everywhere, and the police seem disinterested wherever one goes, either because they are wholly incapable, totally unsupported at the upper levels of the force and the judicial level, or bought and corrupt. I know, in this county, whose side the prosecutor is on. Leftist areas always hire Nifong types.
But where is reasonable without a boatload of money? There are not many clean places left even in Iowa. Our last two governors have supported the import of these types probably in order to permanently changed the political dynamics here, in favor of their party. I will have to think about it, but I am pretty sure I cannot stay.
I called the police, what a help. Now, to decide what to do. Either I get some satisfaction, or I move. I will go into the station, I will speak with my neighbors, and I will decide what to do from there. But, I am leaning toward moving out. I am thinking the police have no power. The politicians locally, in this Democratic state, and at the federal level have pretty much turned their backs on the issue, and others. But where to go, this is not simple. This junk is everywhere, and the police seem disinterested wherever one goes, either because they are wholly incapable, totally unsupported at the upper levels of the force and the judicial level, or bought and corrupt. I know, in this county, whose side the prosecutor is on. Leftist areas always hire Nifong types.
But where is reasonable without a boatload of money? There are not many clean places left even in Iowa. Our last two governors have supported the import of these types probably in order to permanently changed the political dynamics here, in favor of their party. I will have to think about it, but I am pretty sure I cannot stay.
Love is in the air, the time approaches.
You know it is a hot summer when this old coot gets love in his blood and considers the reverie of mating squirrels to be reasonable. I cannot say what it is, there is no woman tracking on my radar, but the thrum and rumble issue deep from within. It is a feel even more than a psychic sound, as what a deaf man would sense near a Harley. It throttles and then idles, the ebb and flow beyond my understanding, but it is alive. I am alive.
My senses reel as I understand I am coming back to life, perhaps more so than in decades. It brings memories of my early and late teens, and early twenties, up to my first death. That power is truly awesome, even in powerful righteous self-assured men, whether that power can be handled correctly must always be on the mind. Like a chainsaw, one small slip and great damage can ensue. I understand the way I courted then, though, a bit more. I realize it was almost completely hormones and perceptions. With my advanced age and experience, I begin to get glimpses of what it must be like on the females side of it. The guilt must come from the fact that in the dance, her perceptions do not fully fit a more reasoned later understanding. That with her natural, social, and probable culture disinclination to certain forms of romance and certain levels of openness and forwardness, her enlivened actions and reactions in the dance leads directly and immediately to guilt once reason returns. I would also suppose that the early and fast way of dealing with this guilt was marriage, or finding whatever place in her society would allow a guilt free walk into such heady territory. When people died in their 20’s and 30’s, there was rarely time to find dissatisfaction! Ah, but these are not my problems, I have enough of my own.
As I have said, I dreamed of her. I was not sure I would be able to pursue this maiden, but I knew from my dreams that she is out there. Now, I am sure I could pursue the opportunity. At this point, care must be taken. I will not spill seed again until I am married, and as a man, I feel it is my duty to protect her honor in the time before such an event, most especially from her and myself. This goes back to the handling of the chainsaw bit. A practiced hand does wonders, but must never become overconfident. And, more, I do not have a practiced hand so I will seek guidance. My blood boils and courses, my hormones scream, and my mind clouds, but I must be the lord of my flesh and domain.
My lady friend has appeared. She is hungry and wishes to watch video or go to a show. So be it. I could use the company. A pretty lady, a sensuous daughter of man, and a friend are always a high priority, though she cannot be the One. So, excuse my while I tend our simpler needs and wants and enjoy a pleasant day.
My senses reel as I understand I am coming back to life, perhaps more so than in decades. It brings memories of my early and late teens, and early twenties, up to my first death. That power is truly awesome, even in powerful righteous self-assured men, whether that power can be handled correctly must always be on the mind. Like a chainsaw, one small slip and great damage can ensue. I understand the way I courted then, though, a bit more. I realize it was almost completely hormones and perceptions. With my advanced age and experience, I begin to get glimpses of what it must be like on the females side of it. The guilt must come from the fact that in the dance, her perceptions do not fully fit a more reasoned later understanding. That with her natural, social, and probable culture disinclination to certain forms of romance and certain levels of openness and forwardness, her enlivened actions and reactions in the dance leads directly and immediately to guilt once reason returns. I would also suppose that the early and fast way of dealing with this guilt was marriage, or finding whatever place in her society would allow a guilt free walk into such heady territory. When people died in their 20’s and 30’s, there was rarely time to find dissatisfaction! Ah, but these are not my problems, I have enough of my own.
As I have said, I dreamed of her. I was not sure I would be able to pursue this maiden, but I knew from my dreams that she is out there. Now, I am sure I could pursue the opportunity. At this point, care must be taken. I will not spill seed again until I am married, and as a man, I feel it is my duty to protect her honor in the time before such an event, most especially from her and myself. This goes back to the handling of the chainsaw bit. A practiced hand does wonders, but must never become overconfident. And, more, I do not have a practiced hand so I will seek guidance. My blood boils and courses, my hormones scream, and my mind clouds, but I must be the lord of my flesh and domain.
My lady friend has appeared. She is hungry and wishes to watch video or go to a show. So be it. I could use the company. A pretty lady, a sensuous daughter of man, and a friend are always a high priority, though she cannot be the One. So, excuse my while I tend our simpler needs and wants and enjoy a pleasant day.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Sleep, gain, and loss, music to the ears.
My nap was splendid. There was a problem with a friend that was bothering me as I slipped into sleep. I had offered advice and comment previously. Both seemed off and both received responses that left me questioning some things. One hour and fifty five minutes later, I awoke on my waterbed, smelling dinner, and I believed Melissa had just been in our bedroom (did I ever say how gorgeous she is?), probably considering whether to wake me for dinner but she wanted to check on dinner before she made the decision. Sometimes she just stands in the room naked and wakes me with her presence and then offers a gentle smile. As well, I had dreamed a response to the friend. It seemed reasonable, so I decided to use it.
As things came into focus, I realized I was not on my waterbed because I do not have a waterbed. Weird. Then I realize that the presence in my room could not have been Melissa, I left her in Charleston years, decades ago, crying and looking down as I drove away never to return. And, that meant dinner was not on the stove. That threw me for a little bit of a loop. I was really hungry! Bah, ok, a few tears for lost loves to be sure.
Anyway, I pop up, clear the mental mess, and take note of what I have and need. The message from the dream! Can I remember it? I really am hungry, so a toast tuna sandwich is produced and does the trick. Certainly not the gourmet cuisine I had smelled. While doing this, I turn the machine on and let it stew until tepid. After completion of my supper, I go to the place where I am to post.
Then, I begin to get nervous. Will this be another failed attempt, swatted aside like all the other leavings. Will this just cause hard feelings as the others seemingly have? I am not sure if I am any longer in this lady’s grace, in any case, but not for my part. I present a little extra, something that was not in the dream, as my beginning. A personal note regarding my intentions and such. Then I let her know wherefrom the rest of the response arrived, and begin.
I am still a bit tired and heartsick, but I did my best. I can only hope it lends meaning to her toils and life. Perhaps it allows her to know someone she has never met thinks after her, her welfare, and her hopes and dreams. I do not know. I never will understand this place, people or their reactions, or the absurdities, profundities, and such which incorporate solely within the frame of the living again. One might even say I cannot understand youth, and what resides there. Though I lived it in my earliest youth, I was never a part of it. I knew it then as now. Perhaps I shall soon know her response.
Ah, a little Bach to wipe away my tears and reclaim the flesh as I continue to wake. Some music to send the whispers of doubt and dread to the corners of madness from whence they came. A little peace, for a moment.
As things came into focus, I realized I was not on my waterbed because I do not have a waterbed. Weird. Then I realize that the presence in my room could not have been Melissa, I left her in Charleston years, decades ago, crying and looking down as I drove away never to return. And, that meant dinner was not on the stove. That threw me for a little bit of a loop. I was really hungry! Bah, ok, a few tears for lost loves to be sure.
Anyway, I pop up, clear the mental mess, and take note of what I have and need. The message from the dream! Can I remember it? I really am hungry, so a toast tuna sandwich is produced and does the trick. Certainly not the gourmet cuisine I had smelled. While doing this, I turn the machine on and let it stew until tepid. After completion of my supper, I go to the place where I am to post.
Then, I begin to get nervous. Will this be another failed attempt, swatted aside like all the other leavings. Will this just cause hard feelings as the others seemingly have? I am not sure if I am any longer in this lady’s grace, in any case, but not for my part. I present a little extra, something that was not in the dream, as my beginning. A personal note regarding my intentions and such. Then I let her know wherefrom the rest of the response arrived, and begin.
I am still a bit tired and heartsick, but I did my best. I can only hope it lends meaning to her toils and life. Perhaps it allows her to know someone she has never met thinks after her, her welfare, and her hopes and dreams. I do not know. I never will understand this place, people or their reactions, or the absurdities, profundities, and such which incorporate solely within the frame of the living again. One might even say I cannot understand youth, and what resides there. Though I lived it in my earliest youth, I was never a part of it. I knew it then as now. Perhaps I shall soon know her response.
Ah, a little Bach to wipe away my tears and reclaim the flesh as I continue to wake. Some music to send the whispers of doubt and dread to the corners of madness from whence they came. A little peace, for a moment.
A nap, I do believe.
I do not believe I will be going to the rock wall tonight. I am just too tired. It really is not that I have been doing a lot of things, just a number of them, in the heat, and I really am not up to par yet. Beyond that I suppose I am just human. So many lists of things to do, so many wants, and of course needs, but how many of those lists are ever really completed? Even if a few lists get done, are they not then refilled almost immediately? Yes, I am sliding a bit. Ok, I will not play that game. I guess I have lost this day, and the last few. I can only be pleased that I have done something for someone else.
She has been told to stay home by the doctor. She may not have a fever of 100 F, but she does still have a fever. She is to stay home so long as she has a fever, and this is her work doctor, so she is in the clear. It will tighten her purse though, and that will not be fun. I cannot help much this or next month, but I can share some of my food, decidedly non-organic as it is. And, I can invite her out for walks, though I will probably go on ahead of her, as she is far too slow, then return to her when I am tired enough to lollygag. But, she can get some sun, woods, and walking without paying for the gas. She does not seem interested in fishing or swimming, but if I get a captive freebie passenger, I will let her know that even something free has a price, the price is watching my stuff while I swim after a walk. No surprises, but no negotiations. She can bring a book. Well, when she is feeling better anyway.
As I was heading home, she must have called. I thought the cel was vibrating, but it has tricked me before, so I ignored it. It seems Star Trek is on the wish list of my friend. The one where Spock sacrifices himself. She could not remember whether it was a movie or part of the series. I assured her that it was one of the movies, though which one I could not be certain. I only remember the name of the first, and worst, one. I informed her that not only was it a movie, but that it was a part of a series of two movies. I then asked if both would be on her list. She just did not know. Well, for my part, I am going to call around and see if I can track them down. I would like to have had a nap, but I do not think I will have time. Oh, and she thanked me. She thought I had been very good to her lately in spite of Scrabble. She has yet to win a game out of the 5 or 6 we have played. Her scores have mostly been in the respectable 350 range, but it just has not been enough.
Sorry, my blog is mostly about her, our doings, and such lately. But, that is what has been filling my life, so, in it goes. Wow am I tired. I think I will just take a nap and see what happens from there. A two hour nap usually does it, I set an alarm and usually am awake and moving before it goes off.
She has been told to stay home by the doctor. She may not have a fever of 100 F, but she does still have a fever. She is to stay home so long as she has a fever, and this is her work doctor, so she is in the clear. It will tighten her purse though, and that will not be fun. I cannot help much this or next month, but I can share some of my food, decidedly non-organic as it is. And, I can invite her out for walks, though I will probably go on ahead of her, as she is far too slow, then return to her when I am tired enough to lollygag. But, she can get some sun, woods, and walking without paying for the gas. She does not seem interested in fishing or swimming, but if I get a captive freebie passenger, I will let her know that even something free has a price, the price is watching my stuff while I swim after a walk. No surprises, but no negotiations. She can bring a book. Well, when she is feeling better anyway.
As I was heading home, she must have called. I thought the cel was vibrating, but it has tricked me before, so I ignored it. It seems Star Trek is on the wish list of my friend. The one where Spock sacrifices himself. She could not remember whether it was a movie or part of the series. I assured her that it was one of the movies, though which one I could not be certain. I only remember the name of the first, and worst, one. I informed her that not only was it a movie, but that it was a part of a series of two movies. I then asked if both would be on her list. She just did not know. Well, for my part, I am going to call around and see if I can track them down. I would like to have had a nap, but I do not think I will have time. Oh, and she thanked me. She thought I had been very good to her lately in spite of Scrabble. She has yet to win a game out of the 5 or 6 we have played. Her scores have mostly been in the respectable 350 range, but it just has not been enough.
Sorry, my blog is mostly about her, our doings, and such lately. But, that is what has been filling my life, so, in it goes. Wow am I tired. I think I will just take a nap and see what happens from there. A two hour nap usually does it, I set an alarm and usually am awake and moving before it goes off.
Another day, another list.
Slept well, got up late. C’est la vie. No mass, that is a bummer. I need to speak to my priest about visiting other churches for mass. We have five in the area, and they each hold mass at a different time, from 8:00 to 17:00, give or take. I am pretty sure he will concede, considering my effort to make it to my home church (if failing often) and my sincere interest in attending mass. I suppose I could just take the problem in hand, but if I am to give my will to God and join in the body of Christ in the church, then I will have to start acting like a member of that body and seeking guidance in, at least, religious matters. The nurse called, and will be going on vacation soon, therefore she will be arriving shortly, as she apparently needs to catch up on paperwork. I will not cancel her without my doctor’s approval, so she will be here in moments. Hey, my doctor has been working with me I prefer to return the courtesy. If he is getting the data, or has a use for that service himself, AND is honest about it all with me, we might work something out. I can be negotiable, if I am not a negotiator.
Oh, as I was viewing the news this morning, I found a piece that confirms that I am not completely alone. There are other cowards out there. This man is more afraid of a little human than many other things, even in his age of wisdom. I was gladdened to see it. Our mutual cowardice is indicated further down in the article, but it rang bells here.
I had best get some of the boxes off the couch. I keep meaning to get some things packed and my last room rearranged, retire some old games and old unused clothing, and make room for my reloading press and open up the space for straight weights and piano practice again, so I have been holding onto some of the right sized boxes. It just has not happened to date. My lady friend has asked that I hold onto the odd sized boxes as well, as she prefers to recycle. I let her, though I think it an unwise practice. I do this because it helps her feel important in the world and the little she could possibly recycle makes no real impact on the larger problems regarding recycling. *sigh* But she has been busy, on vacation, or sick for a bit so the boxes I will not be using linger. I could break them down, but really, I do not like setting my hand to ill notions. Then again, should I be sending them to the landfill or burning them, I would break them down. *sigh, again* Ok, fine, I have painted myself in a corner and will just have to get busy.
Actually, I am glad the nurse insisted on a visit. After writing the paragraphs above, I got things on the move in order to tidy the place a bit, then realized today was trash day. I develop so little garbage, that two week pickup would be fine, if some things did not produce pungent odors anyway. If something goes bad in the fridge, I just leave it there until trash day. I had some things there that really had to go. And though I remembered trash day last week, I had not cleared the fridge. Ah, one more little thing off my mental list of things to do. Nice.
Then for a shower and driving Miss Daisy. *ring…* doorbell…
Ok, that went fairly smoothly. The medications are reset, and I found that one of the medications I had thought I was taking had been discontinued. I will discuss this with my doctor, as it had been causing no ill affects and may have been lowering my blood pressure by a few points. Then again, maybe not. That medicine had a warning about sun exposure, which I had pretty much been ignoring, probably to some level of personal peril. I had not realized it was discontinued, so I had been taking it to this day. I was about out, so she called to check on it. That is how I found out.
The day is good, in spite of all things ponderous, problematic, and left on the list whether missed, done, or yet to do. I really am enjoying this new found life. I think I am going to continue to push on those edges until I break down the fences, walls, and other imposed boundaries, again. There are real limits, at my current level of skill and condition, but these too can be stretched and those change. I will just have to try and maintain some of the humility, patience, and kindness I have gained. Just perhaps, Mr. Dowd, Mr. Crowley, Iron Man, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and myself can become whole without becoming less.
Oh, as I was viewing the news this morning, I found a piece that confirms that I am not completely alone. There are other cowards out there. This man is more afraid of a little human than many other things, even in his age of wisdom. I was gladdened to see it. Our mutual cowardice is indicated further down in the article, but it rang bells here.
I had best get some of the boxes off the couch. I keep meaning to get some things packed and my last room rearranged, retire some old games and old unused clothing, and make room for my reloading press and open up the space for straight weights and piano practice again, so I have been holding onto some of the right sized boxes. It just has not happened to date. My lady friend has asked that I hold onto the odd sized boxes as well, as she prefers to recycle. I let her, though I think it an unwise practice. I do this because it helps her feel important in the world and the little she could possibly recycle makes no real impact on the larger problems regarding recycling. *sigh* But she has been busy, on vacation, or sick for a bit so the boxes I will not be using linger. I could break them down, but really, I do not like setting my hand to ill notions. Then again, should I be sending them to the landfill or burning them, I would break them down. *sigh, again* Ok, fine, I have painted myself in a corner and will just have to get busy.
Actually, I am glad the nurse insisted on a visit. After writing the paragraphs above, I got things on the move in order to tidy the place a bit, then realized today was trash day. I develop so little garbage, that two week pickup would be fine, if some things did not produce pungent odors anyway. If something goes bad in the fridge, I just leave it there until trash day. I had some things there that really had to go. And though I remembered trash day last week, I had not cleared the fridge. Ah, one more little thing off my mental list of things to do. Nice.
Then for a shower and driving Miss Daisy. *ring…* doorbell…
Ok, that went fairly smoothly. The medications are reset, and I found that one of the medications I had thought I was taking had been discontinued. I will discuss this with my doctor, as it had been causing no ill affects and may have been lowering my blood pressure by a few points. Then again, maybe not. That medicine had a warning about sun exposure, which I had pretty much been ignoring, probably to some level of personal peril. I had not realized it was discontinued, so I had been taking it to this day. I was about out, so she called to check on it. That is how I found out.
The day is good, in spite of all things ponderous, problematic, and left on the list whether missed, done, or yet to do. I really am enjoying this new found life. I think I am going to continue to push on those edges until I break down the fences, walls, and other imposed boundaries, again. There are real limits, at my current level of skill and condition, but these too can be stretched and those change. I will just have to try and maintain some of the humility, patience, and kindness I have gained. Just perhaps, Mr. Dowd, Mr. Crowley, Iron Man, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and myself can become whole without becoming less.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Sleeping with the fish.
Woah, dude, I am wiped. Her house was hot, all day. And, I did some running, fixing, cooking, and washed the dishes as a final gesture. Ah, but she was much sprightlier of mood today too, if still tired and ill of body. Having care when one is ill really is nice, she has done this for me to varying degrees. Supper was good, though in the heat, neither of us wanted seconds. I left her with the remnants, as when I asked she begged. I have plenty to eat and am happy to see her not have to do too much for her next meal. Plus, I know she is getting meat. Foolish girl.
I am a little sore from sitting all day. I am just not used to that anymore! What a weird thing. A few months ago, that is all I did. It is odd how fast a thing can change.
So, a shower tonight; to bed early, with Vivaldi taking care of chamber music; an early rise; morning duties and pleasantries; mass; Tiger Lily to the doctor; and then the rock wall. Of course, I may have to let her win a game of Scrabble tomorrow if the doctor does not take too long. I cannot wait to try out my shoes and begin my life of hanging out. And, I need mass.
Oh, the nurse that visits has been trying to contact me. She got me today, and I said Friday would be fine, but we have yet to work out a time. She was very helpful in the beginning, and I really appreciate the VA for obtaining this service, but I think it is at an end. My meds are working well enough that even should I fall off them (and I will), I will climb back on them. I am having no ill side effects and am really enjoying life. I receive no high, low, or moodiness on the stuff, but I do have enough energy to stay awake and sometimes dig in to both necessity and pleasure. She wants too much information and will not tell me why. I have asked, her answer was untruthful. As well, an important document disappeared from my place, with only two having access. One of them acted “funny” right about that time. The other has access much more often and it did not happen in the two years I have had the document. I do not care for lies or capers by leftists. The deal is done, just a matter of finalizing the paperwork then flushing.
I just do not have enough money to even check out belts right now. But my pants are seriously problematic. The shorts I have been wearing have an inner tie cord, so I can adjust them, even if they do look funny, they stay on. My belts are to their last notches and just will not hold, so I am going to have to figure something out. Ah, rope! It worked for Jethro, and we do have a little in common. Though, I am not a prettyboy. At least he was handy and straight too though. Hmm, or was it only Elly May who wore the rope belt. What a babe. Oh, and Jeanie! And, oh, Samantha! Woah, sleep is going to be hard.
I am a little sore from sitting all day. I am just not used to that anymore! What a weird thing. A few months ago, that is all I did. It is odd how fast a thing can change.
So, a shower tonight; to bed early, with Vivaldi taking care of chamber music; an early rise; morning duties and pleasantries; mass; Tiger Lily to the doctor; and then the rock wall. Of course, I may have to let her win a game of Scrabble tomorrow if the doctor does not take too long. I cannot wait to try out my shoes and begin my life of hanging out. And, I need mass.
Oh, the nurse that visits has been trying to contact me. She got me today, and I said Friday would be fine, but we have yet to work out a time. She was very helpful in the beginning, and I really appreciate the VA for obtaining this service, but I think it is at an end. My meds are working well enough that even should I fall off them (and I will), I will climb back on them. I am having no ill side effects and am really enjoying life. I receive no high, low, or moodiness on the stuff, but I do have enough energy to stay awake and sometimes dig in to both necessity and pleasure. She wants too much information and will not tell me why. I have asked, her answer was untruthful. As well, an important document disappeared from my place, with only two having access. One of them acted “funny” right about that time. The other has access much more often and it did not happen in the two years I have had the document. I do not care for lies or capers by leftists. The deal is done, just a matter of finalizing the paperwork then flushing.
I just do not have enough money to even check out belts right now. But my pants are seriously problematic. The shorts I have been wearing have an inner tie cord, so I can adjust them, even if they do look funny, they stay on. My belts are to their last notches and just will not hold, so I am going to have to figure something out. Ah, rope! It worked for Jethro, and we do have a little in common. Though, I am not a prettyboy. At least he was handy and straight too though. Hmm, or was it only Elly May who wore the rope belt. What a babe. Oh, and Jeanie! And, oh, Samantha! Woah, sleep is going to be hard.
A pleasant day with the pauper Queen.
I was able to help the lady out today. I surprised her a little by getting to a repair she needed the day after she asked. When we had been together, it did take quite some time for me to get on a task. Then again, she always had more tasks than I could manage and I was rarely at my best, except when in school at times (then I was busy with school). And, I did prepare her evening meal, every night save few as well as dishes every few days if she did not get to them. I had all the tools and parts I needed. I left a few extra parts for that type of job in case she or I needed to do similar in the future. I had finished and was about to leave her in peace, when she asked if I would play a game of Scrabble or three.
I had nothing else planned except rock climbing. It was early afternoon, so the proposition seemed reasonable as I believed I could be out in time for training. And, I was trying to help her decide to go the doctor’s office while I was doing the repair. I thought a little more time to add in my yes vote to her vocal thinking might be worthwhile. We played three games, all very close, and I won each. At this point, I almost wonder if she is toying with me. She usually wipes me out if the game is close near the end. She knows all of the little words when the board is closed and difficult. Then again, as I returned to my apartment at 18:00, it was cool comparatively, yet it was 79 F in my apartment. She does not have a way to measure the temperature at her place, but I will guess that it was into the 90’s F. And, she is ill, if a bit better. Her fever broke in the night, though she still feels pretty ragged. I will not be making the climb tonight, as I made a further deal with the little Queen. By the way, I did help guide her to making a doctors appointment tomorrow. I do feel better. It is probably nothing, but she can stay sick for weeks if she does not care for some of these things.
She was quite hungry, but was not sure what she wanted. I am hungry, but cannot go for anything too bizarre in this heat. So, after some negotiations, and failures to find a solution, I let out that I still had a pan of enchiladas, the meat being two parts ground turkey to one part ground beef. She had shared in the first pan, though had only said it was ok. Today the same ok food is fantastic. Plus, she wanted gazpacho. I would have made that myself to save on expense, but I reminded her that there are no fresh tomatoes yet. Saddened by the realization, I suggested we use some of my mother’s salsa. That too was a big hit. Ah, so the deal is done. I stopped in the Coop to purchase active bread yeast, but also some fresh spring lettuce for the meal and returned to the cave to bake the enchiladas. When that is cooling, I will hike to Hy-Vee for fresh flour and some other bread ingredients. By the time I return, the enchiladas should be cool enough to transport. I had better take the sour cream, as I doubt if flower girl has such.
It is time to head to the store.
I had nothing else planned except rock climbing. It was early afternoon, so the proposition seemed reasonable as I believed I could be out in time for training. And, I was trying to help her decide to go the doctor’s office while I was doing the repair. I thought a little more time to add in my yes vote to her vocal thinking might be worthwhile. We played three games, all very close, and I won each. At this point, I almost wonder if she is toying with me. She usually wipes me out if the game is close near the end. She knows all of the little words when the board is closed and difficult. Then again, as I returned to my apartment at 18:00, it was cool comparatively, yet it was 79 F in my apartment. She does not have a way to measure the temperature at her place, but I will guess that it was into the 90’s F. And, she is ill, if a bit better. Her fever broke in the night, though she still feels pretty ragged. I will not be making the climb tonight, as I made a further deal with the little Queen. By the way, I did help guide her to making a doctors appointment tomorrow. I do feel better. It is probably nothing, but she can stay sick for weeks if she does not care for some of these things.
She was quite hungry, but was not sure what she wanted. I am hungry, but cannot go for anything too bizarre in this heat. So, after some negotiations, and failures to find a solution, I let out that I still had a pan of enchiladas, the meat being two parts ground turkey to one part ground beef. She had shared in the first pan, though had only said it was ok. Today the same ok food is fantastic. Plus, she wanted gazpacho. I would have made that myself to save on expense, but I reminded her that there are no fresh tomatoes yet. Saddened by the realization, I suggested we use some of my mother’s salsa. That too was a big hit. Ah, so the deal is done. I stopped in the Coop to purchase active bread yeast, but also some fresh spring lettuce for the meal and returned to the cave to bake the enchiladas. When that is cooling, I will hike to Hy-Vee for fresh flour and some other bread ingredients. By the time I return, the enchiladas should be cool enough to transport. I had better take the sour cream, as I doubt if flower girl has such.
It is time to head to the store.
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