Saturday, July 7, 2007
A cleaner, clearer, bright new evening.
Boy was I hungry through the day. The wine was not a factor, as I was hungry from the time I awoke until most recently. And nothing but meat would satisfy. I tried a dozen ears of corn, salad, and this and that along with bits of meat. Nada, nein, nay, and such, that food just reminded me that I was indeed famished. The quickest thing to thaw was about 3 pounds or more of a cultural sausage, made of pork, beef, and some other meat, all ground along with potato, and put into animal gut. After thawing, I took a bit of time to warm it in spite of my pressing desires and gobbled it like a kid allowed all the candy of interest in an appropriately named store. Finally, I find myself at ease.
This is all good, you know. Natural heavy sleep last night and this hunger tell me I am moving in the right direction. So, this week, I am going to see if I can find a place or two I might like to camp. One of the first places I will look is near my favored trail. I will have to do this solo, which means in the next few days I will have to figure out some security measures. And though I despise heat, I can take it fairly well if I schedule for it. That is, if it is hot, I do less, as it cools I do more, if all else fails, I go swimming. This is what I am supposed to be doing, I know this.
After thinking things over and looking over my gear tomorrow, I will also need to finish that wine. Good stuff, and beyond, a treat, a reward. A pat on the head of this sort is not outside of my prudish nature, within tolerable constraints. It beats a case of Bud, a fifth of vodka, topped off by a fifth of Yukon Jack anyway. As well, it is as good as it probably gets. I will always imbibe a tadge. Oh, I think I will try to continue my story. I am really curious if the story goes back to “action” or into contemplation and retrospection. No promises about publishing tonight, though that is the goal.
Something about the plain rain in Spain, in this case South Africa, and red in color.
I am almost in a bad mood. Yes, almost, yes, bad mood. I would like to punch someone, but I think I will just write at them. And I will write in such a way that neither of us knows just what happened. More wine, please. Thank you. Take away the used bottles, will you? That’s a good slave.
Woah. Ok, first of all, there are not a multitude of bottles, and I have no slave, she went home with the other empty bottles. Fact be told, there is one bottle and it is a keeper and no slave has this beast ever entertained. Further, it is not an empty bottle. I wonder at my light weight factor in this. I wonder if it is the heat and the thimble of wine. Perhaps I have been neglecting my nature as a consumer and master of inebriants. Sadly, it may just be age. Really old wine, not me of course… blah. Whatever, this little portion of rotten grape juice has spoiled my nature and lent itself to a feminized aggressiveness that would have a difficult time managing an angry teddy bear. Fluff and circumstance, I will end up taking a dive for no better reason than I really have no choice. There, see what I mean?
Ah, it is a swell moment in spite of my protestations. I am pain free and somewhat free of gravity, should you take my meaning. I am easily offended, and rightly indignant, yet I will hold the war off until the morrow to spare your life and give you a chance at salvation in the here and now should you come to your wits. Yes, something along that course of generosity. That or I could not hit the broadside of a barn if it meant I had to stand up straight a moment longer than a moment and probably think just about as straight.
Oh, I thought, in hindsight, to warn you not to read this. You might gain a malnotion of your own and do something I would not be proud of which we, of course, would have to discuss at the first opportunity in which I could find my legs and head your way for just such an event. Then again, you might decry me the foul this-and-that I may sometimes be and require a PG-13 rating henceforth. Good day.
Woah. Ok, first of all, there are not a multitude of bottles, and I have no slave, she went home with the other empty bottles. Fact be told, there is one bottle and it is a keeper and no slave has this beast ever entertained. Further, it is not an empty bottle. I wonder at my light weight factor in this. I wonder if it is the heat and the thimble of wine. Perhaps I have been neglecting my nature as a consumer and master of inebriants. Sadly, it may just be age. Really old wine, not me of course… blah. Whatever, this little portion of rotten grape juice has spoiled my nature and lent itself to a feminized aggressiveness that would have a difficult time managing an angry teddy bear. Fluff and circumstance, I will end up taking a dive for no better reason than I really have no choice. There, see what I mean?
Ah, it is a swell moment in spite of my protestations. I am pain free and somewhat free of gravity, should you take my meaning. I am easily offended, and rightly indignant, yet I will hold the war off until the morrow to spare your life and give you a chance at salvation in the here and now should you come to your wits. Yes, something along that course of generosity. That or I could not hit the broadside of a barn if it meant I had to stand up straight a moment longer than a moment and probably think just about as straight.
Oh, I thought, in hindsight, to warn you not to read this. You might gain a malnotion of your own and do something I would not be proud of which we, of course, would have to discuss at the first opportunity in which I could find my legs and head your way for just such an event. Then again, you might decry me the foul this-and-that I may sometimes be and require a PG-13 rating henceforth. Good day.
More doings with the Cantankerous One.
During the writing of the first writings of the day, as I was editing them, or roughly making a stab at it, I received a call. It seems Ratitoulle is playing, and a certain persnickety playmate of mine might have an interest in attending. It is warm, well, no, HOT, and sleep is elusive. Plus, it has been suggested, that this show might be worth a viewing. Even in my anti-Hollywood circles, I have heard similar sayings. As well, so long as I purchase my eats, my ticket shall be a gift. Hmm, I think a deal has been struck. I was having trouble concentrating on my editing task anyway, so I indicate in the positive.
I complete my grooming tasks, dress more appropriately, and head out. I had meant to do another review of the show before going, but I had turned the computer off and did not want to wait for it to turn back on, and, I had already said yes so I would rather not know if it was a bad thing I was going to watch. I pick up my friend and we are at the theater in plenty of time. Oh, yes, you do get a review.
For my part, I thought it was a cute if simple tale. It was not offensive. If it’s was multicultural, which I know it was, it did not shove it into my face. The premise was reasonable, though it looks like it had been reworked. It looks like Hollywood typicals began with a decent story, were about to rape it with their evil, and were called to restore it to it’s origins, to produce a decent child’s tale. My friend thought it was the best she had seen in a long time. She was very happy, almost thrilled with it. Urhm, she told me what she did before I told her what I thought. Weird, but I wonder what she would feel about a movie built completely to my specs? It is almost frightening to see what these leftists actually love… seems to be everything decent they decry in real life. I kept this last to myself, speaking with walls, leftists, and other dead things is for others.
Afterward, we had a nice drive back to her place. When we arrived, she wondered if I could be bothered to fetch a bottle of ‘that’ wine we used to both enjoy when we were together. She would pay. Certainly, Excelsior, correct? Hm? Think so? Off I go. Trust me, I know this one. I used to buy a case at a time. It was the only wine we both enjoyed immensely, or in fact, at all in conjunction. So immense means a great deal in this case. When I arrived, I see they still have our old favorite. I notice, too, they offer another variety of the brand, another red. I still have not checked white wines, but may eventually, from this vintner. I grab both, deciding that she will be allowed to take her pick, and return with the booty, also making purchase of a few more of my precious herbs and spices. She wishes our traditional, which I gladly hand over, and receive my payment. Upon returning home, I bring a few items in, along with my purchases. I still have not unloaded, se la vie. Then, I sort a few things, put the mail in it’s place, and bring the bottle to the fore. I open, poor, and sip. Nice, pleasant is what it is and this is. I then hit upon a plan.
Hello? Hello, I hope you are enjoying your wine? Much, and thanks. You have already thanked and paid, I am only calling to offer a cheers. I am preparing to wind down, so will be turning my phone off. Fine, but a cheers first I suggest? Cheers to a fine event, a good movie, and pleasant company. Cheers, she says meekly? and yet sincerely. Sleep well. I will try. Bye. *click*
Ah, that was easy, fun, and good, I think.
Well, now for the rest of the day? Hmm, I shall ponder. It is quite hot and I am still in recovery, to be quite honest, so whatever, it will be light duty, indoor light duty.
I complete my grooming tasks, dress more appropriately, and head out. I had meant to do another review of the show before going, but I had turned the computer off and did not want to wait for it to turn back on, and, I had already said yes so I would rather not know if it was a bad thing I was going to watch. I pick up my friend and we are at the theater in plenty of time. Oh, yes, you do get a review.
For my part, I thought it was a cute if simple tale. It was not offensive. If it’s was multicultural, which I know it was, it did not shove it into my face. The premise was reasonable, though it looks like it had been reworked. It looks like Hollywood typicals began with a decent story, were about to rape it with their evil, and were called to restore it to it’s origins, to produce a decent child’s tale. My friend thought it was the best she had seen in a long time. She was very happy, almost thrilled with it. Urhm, she told me what she did before I told her what I thought. Weird, but I wonder what she would feel about a movie built completely to my specs? It is almost frightening to see what these leftists actually love… seems to be everything decent they decry in real life. I kept this last to myself, speaking with walls, leftists, and other dead things is for others.
Afterward, we had a nice drive back to her place. When we arrived, she wondered if I could be bothered to fetch a bottle of ‘that’ wine we used to both enjoy when we were together. She would pay. Certainly, Excelsior, correct? Hm? Think so? Off I go. Trust me, I know this one. I used to buy a case at a time. It was the only wine we both enjoyed immensely, or in fact, at all in conjunction. So immense means a great deal in this case. When I arrived, I see they still have our old favorite. I notice, too, they offer another variety of the brand, another red. I still have not checked white wines, but may eventually, from this vintner. I grab both, deciding that she will be allowed to take her pick, and return with the booty, also making purchase of a few more of my precious herbs and spices. She wishes our traditional, which I gladly hand over, and receive my payment. Upon returning home, I bring a few items in, along with my purchases. I still have not unloaded, se la vie. Then, I sort a few things, put the mail in it’s place, and bring the bottle to the fore. I open, poor, and sip. Nice, pleasant is what it is and this is. I then hit upon a plan.
Hello? Hello, I hope you are enjoying your wine? Much, and thanks. You have already thanked and paid, I am only calling to offer a cheers. I am preparing to wind down, so will be turning my phone off. Fine, but a cheers first I suggest? Cheers to a fine event, a good movie, and pleasant company. Cheers, she says meekly? and yet sincerely. Sleep well. I will try. Bye. *click*
Ah, that was easy, fun, and good, I think.
Well, now for the rest of the day? Hmm, I shall ponder. It is quite hot and I am still in recovery, to be quite honest, so whatever, it will be light duty, indoor light duty.
The report.
A little sleep helps pull things together develop order and place perspective as a fine frame. The heat, and over-exhaustion while hot, and working in this situation beyond one’s interest can really be a test. Then again, it is not always bad to have these things tested now and again. Plus, after the tests, one really gets to understand good sleep, why it is needed, and how easy it is to achieve naturally. I awoke well, to an empty cave, around 9:15. She had already left, though she had used the coffee pot I had set up for her, it looks as if one cup of coffee was all she had consumed. The coffee is cold, so I am thinking she was out no later than 5:00. She was supposed to try and wake me for Scrabble or breakfast, but if she tried, I do not remember. Still, she can be just as ornery as myself at various moments, so she might have just done her thing and headed home, minus any efforts at speaking with me either because she did not feel like company or feared I might not.
Oh, something I did not mention about yesterday was that as we were getting the boat out of the water, four new or newer vehicles drove to near the boat ramp. A bunch of very well, if culturally so, dressed guys got out, only one of which could speak English. He was busy speaking with a white guy there, then relaying whatever back to the others. Then all but the white guy packed up and moved out as a single group in their various vehicles. The white guy had been there since before we arrived, though we were camped at the other end of the small park so I had not noticed if he had visitors like this often. I had noticed he had a fishing boat, a small bass boat, which he took up and down the river occasionally, for very brief periods. He did not seem to catch anything, or even be gone long enough to have fished. The park ranger and park workers did not seem at all at odds with all the events. I am sure they checked it out, which brings me great ease of mind. On the way back, I was speaking with my little open minded friend, who insisted these were not necessarily illegals. Oh, and of course the foolish conversation started from her with a, “What is “illegal” supposed to mean, anyway?”.
“No”, I told her to buy a dictionary at this point, or do a little research. If she is too ignorant or incapable, then nothing I can say would be of any value, and I will not waste my breath on her. She smarted up almost a quarter of a notch quickly. “You do not know they are illegals”. After three statements, no clarifications or reiterations, I am done and tell her she can believe whatever her brainless, evil, or both friends have taught her to believe, or at least taught her to say. But, if she intends on being a stupid liar, she must do this with them. I tell her there is no debate here, only her real or feigned disbelief of fact, and that this is a personal problem which I wish her well with. She had thought to bring a Rachel Carlson book with her, and featured it prominently on our dining table in order to cause a stir. She just does not understand that since RC is dead, she means what all liberals, leftists, communists, and other social, cultural and intellectual boogeymen mean once they become good to their word; nothing. Soon, her books complete unwriting will be done, and I do not believe the cow had children. Very soon, little will remain and no one will care about that which does. When the last of those who do care, such as my friend, pass, it will be over. I think those swamps are about to be DDT bombed, drained, plowed, planted, and turned into corn fields. Maybe it is just a hope, and yes I know of the education problem, but too I see some shifts in popular beliefs and what people might be willing to do to change a falling, otherwise doomed, nation. Even planned dumbing down cannot change the will of a freeman to remain free. Will the outfielder catch the ball or is this the end of the game?
If I dreamed, I do not recall. I still have a few itches from mosquito bites, which I ought to take care of shortly. The mosquitoes were thick out there. Applying spray every two hours helped, some. I wonder if the 4th revelers caused the populations to explode. I had heard from a daily park visitor, she walks her dog there after her third shift work, that mosquitoes had only been bad the last few days. So, I suspect this was a result of that. I did have a little fun about them though. I asked Tiger Lily if she knew the biters where all female. To my surprise, and without three hours of debate, she said she had actually learned this, much to her surprise, recently (I wonder how long it took to convince her, or if she just believes whatever anyone seemingly liberal says). For their brood, she says, why else, say I. And I agree while having to admit there are correlations. Passive is good fun sometimes, folks. And yes, she got a slight tingle, maybe or maybe not ever consciously realizing she had received one over the bow. K-Splash. Say it straight, do not crack the steady face, and walk off to enjoy the disturbance in the force you just caused where your enjoyment can not be detected by the enemy forces. Ah, life is so fine.
It could be asked, and perhaps fairly, why I bother to go camping with this persnickety feminist liberal. One who pushes for this or that to be done on a schedule of her making, regardless of any real necessity, at times. And one who seems to have only a little more or more recent experience than myself, and I would say less in the way of natural problem solving skill, only more basic modern knowledge on a few limited camping topics to date. That is pretty easy. First, she is a friend and usually a pretty good one. Agreement has never been a requirement, as a fact, disagreement is part of the keys to the kingdom of the graces I have at my disposal to dispense. And though I really prefer to do things at my pace or slow and low, just do whatever and only because and then only if there is time to do it on my schedule, in what I feel is my budget, and if I have the energy, it is good to actually have a push from time to time. She is a interested coconspirator in this endeavor, she wants to do this, and she can carry her weight if sometimes making up for mass with detail. It is good to have two brains at work, two sets of eyes, ears, hands, and feet to make a camp hum, and she usually has a thought or item which does bring a little fun to camp, surprise bing cherries up front first night for example. She is well worth the effort. AND, it is good to be an enabler. With me she feels secure to go camping just about anywhere reasonable, I suspect, while truly loving being out but with too great of fears to go alone. And beyond, even if she was not useful, why do men lend a hand to the elevation of rounded iron ingots they add to steel bars?
As for me, I suspect I will have to begin looking for places to camp solo. I would like to practice setting and breaking camp. I would like to arrange a gear list for equipment and needs, one that can for the most part double as a return check list, minus perishables. A new rod for a tent might be a minor thing, but sometimes they are genuinely irreplaceable. What might not be irreplaceable might still be quite expensive. I would like to see how I do with my day without a pusher or schedule of any kind. And, I would like to figure out how to develop security measures, longer term food storage to include food caching, and many of the tricks that allow for such a system such as packing properly, hiding from man and animal, locating after placement and concealment, and deciding what to place. That might be the best time to begin map and compass training. Small areas where a mistake will cost no more than a few miles of walking and where a mistake will be made obvious within the range of my capabilities to deal with easily.
I am excited.
Oh, something I did not mention about yesterday was that as we were getting the boat out of the water, four new or newer vehicles drove to near the boat ramp. A bunch of very well, if culturally so, dressed guys got out, only one of which could speak English. He was busy speaking with a white guy there, then relaying whatever back to the others. Then all but the white guy packed up and moved out as a single group in their various vehicles. The white guy had been there since before we arrived, though we were camped at the other end of the small park so I had not noticed if he had visitors like this often. I had noticed he had a fishing boat, a small bass boat, which he took up and down the river occasionally, for very brief periods. He did not seem to catch anything, or even be gone long enough to have fished. The park ranger and park workers did not seem at all at odds with all the events. I am sure they checked it out, which brings me great ease of mind. On the way back, I was speaking with my little open minded friend, who insisted these were not necessarily illegals. Oh, and of course the foolish conversation started from her with a, “What is “illegal” supposed to mean, anyway?”.
“No”, I told her to buy a dictionary at this point, or do a little research. If she is too ignorant or incapable, then nothing I can say would be of any value, and I will not waste my breath on her. She smarted up almost a quarter of a notch quickly. “You do not know they are illegals”. After three statements, no clarifications or reiterations, I am done and tell her she can believe whatever her brainless, evil, or both friends have taught her to believe, or at least taught her to say. But, if she intends on being a stupid liar, she must do this with them. I tell her there is no debate here, only her real or feigned disbelief of fact, and that this is a personal problem which I wish her well with. She had thought to bring a Rachel Carlson book with her, and featured it prominently on our dining table in order to cause a stir. She just does not understand that since RC is dead, she means what all liberals, leftists, communists, and other social, cultural and intellectual boogeymen mean once they become good to their word; nothing. Soon, her books complete unwriting will be done, and I do not believe the cow had children. Very soon, little will remain and no one will care about that which does. When the last of those who do care, such as my friend, pass, it will be over. I think those swamps are about to be DDT bombed, drained, plowed, planted, and turned into corn fields. Maybe it is just a hope, and yes I know of the education problem, but too I see some shifts in popular beliefs and what people might be willing to do to change a falling, otherwise doomed, nation. Even planned dumbing down cannot change the will of a freeman to remain free. Will the outfielder catch the ball or is this the end of the game?
If I dreamed, I do not recall. I still have a few itches from mosquito bites, which I ought to take care of shortly. The mosquitoes were thick out there. Applying spray every two hours helped, some. I wonder if the 4th revelers caused the populations to explode. I had heard from a daily park visitor, she walks her dog there after her third shift work, that mosquitoes had only been bad the last few days. So, I suspect this was a result of that. I did have a little fun about them though. I asked Tiger Lily if she knew the biters where all female. To my surprise, and without three hours of debate, she said she had actually learned this, much to her surprise, recently (I wonder how long it took to convince her, or if she just believes whatever anyone seemingly liberal says). For their brood, she says, why else, say I. And I agree while having to admit there are correlations. Passive is good fun sometimes, folks. And yes, she got a slight tingle, maybe or maybe not ever consciously realizing she had received one over the bow. K-Splash. Say it straight, do not crack the steady face, and walk off to enjoy the disturbance in the force you just caused where your enjoyment can not be detected by the enemy forces. Ah, life is so fine.
It could be asked, and perhaps fairly, why I bother to go camping with this persnickety feminist liberal. One who pushes for this or that to be done on a schedule of her making, regardless of any real necessity, at times. And one who seems to have only a little more or more recent experience than myself, and I would say less in the way of natural problem solving skill, only more basic modern knowledge on a few limited camping topics to date. That is pretty easy. First, she is a friend and usually a pretty good one. Agreement has never been a requirement, as a fact, disagreement is part of the keys to the kingdom of the graces I have at my disposal to dispense. And though I really prefer to do things at my pace or slow and low, just do whatever and only because and then only if there is time to do it on my schedule, in what I feel is my budget, and if I have the energy, it is good to actually have a push from time to time. She is a interested coconspirator in this endeavor, she wants to do this, and she can carry her weight if sometimes making up for mass with detail. It is good to have two brains at work, two sets of eyes, ears, hands, and feet to make a camp hum, and she usually has a thought or item which does bring a little fun to camp, surprise bing cherries up front first night for example. She is well worth the effort. AND, it is good to be an enabler. With me she feels secure to go camping just about anywhere reasonable, I suspect, while truly loving being out but with too great of fears to go alone. And beyond, even if she was not useful, why do men lend a hand to the elevation of rounded iron ingots they add to steel bars?
As for me, I suspect I will have to begin looking for places to camp solo. I would like to practice setting and breaking camp. I would like to arrange a gear list for equipment and needs, one that can for the most part double as a return check list, minus perishables. A new rod for a tent might be a minor thing, but sometimes they are genuinely irreplaceable. What might not be irreplaceable might still be quite expensive. I would like to see how I do with my day without a pusher or schedule of any kind. And, I would like to figure out how to develop security measures, longer term food storage to include food caching, and many of the tricks that allow for such a system such as packing properly, hiding from man and animal, locating after placement and concealment, and deciding what to place. That might be the best time to begin map and compass training. Small areas where a mistake will cost no more than a few miles of walking and where a mistake will be made obvious within the range of my capabilities to deal with easily.
I am excited.
Friday, July 6, 2007
Wow, nighters.
I will not be blogging more than this slight post for the moment. I returned from camping earlier, and I am very tired. The trip went well, if a small and short one, it is a beginning. I learned a few things, did some new things, and did well as far as I am concerned. My friend held up well, and did some new things herself. We were both planning on staying an extra night, but the guy who arrived next to us this afternoon first wondered if I had beer, No; then wondered if I had ice for his beer (great start here, though it ‘might’ have been incidental), No, we use freezer packs; as well, speaking with him put me to mind of speaking with Ozzy. He was foul mouthed and unaware. Nothing personal, well, that is not true.
As for me, I would have preferred to stay and fish, cool down after reloading the boat to the rack, and then have a good nights sleep so as to have more energy to pack, and to pack before the heat.. As I said, the Q.O.D. was just having a ball. In spite of heat, mosquito bites, imperfections, and such, we really were enjoying the moments, together and alone. At least this means it will probably happen again, together. It certainly means I may head out solo as well.
Yes, I know my plans and dreams. But why are you just not doing them, you ask. It is simple, they are dreams, hopes, thoughts, and such. I never did know that they could be true. I have to find out each step of the way, with only the doing any kind of proof of the reality of those. It is like the chef who dreams of developing, preparing, then serving a 9 course meal. Any one development is a challenge to develop, then cook. But to truly produce the whole meal will be a trick all on it’s own.
I had dropped of Tiger Lily, with gear, at her place before returning to the cave. She thought it would be nifty if we had dinner with our remaing supplies. Fine, most of it is at the cave, so all she has to do is show up. She walks! Gack! Anyway, I will not be driving her home or turning the ac down, she has to know this? Sort of, she thinks. Supper is complete, she sleeps, wiped out by the day and an allergy pill she took before arriving. Looks like we still sort of get our last night of sort of camping anyway.
I really am tired. I will write soon.
As for me, I would have preferred to stay and fish, cool down after reloading the boat to the rack, and then have a good nights sleep so as to have more energy to pack, and to pack before the heat.. As I said, the Q.O.D. was just having a ball. In spite of heat, mosquito bites, imperfections, and such, we really were enjoying the moments, together and alone. At least this means it will probably happen again, together. It certainly means I may head out solo as well.
Yes, I know my plans and dreams. But why are you just not doing them, you ask. It is simple, they are dreams, hopes, thoughts, and such. I never did know that they could be true. I have to find out each step of the way, with only the doing any kind of proof of the reality of those. It is like the chef who dreams of developing, preparing, then serving a 9 course meal. Any one development is a challenge to develop, then cook. But to truly produce the whole meal will be a trick all on it’s own.
I had dropped of Tiger Lily, with gear, at her place before returning to the cave. She thought it would be nifty if we had dinner with our remaing supplies. Fine, most of it is at the cave, so all she has to do is show up. She walks! Gack! Anyway, I will not be driving her home or turning the ac down, she has to know this? Sort of, she thinks. Supper is complete, she sleeps, wiped out by the day and an allergy pill she took before arriving. Looks like we still sort of get our last night of sort of camping anyway.
I really am tired. I will write soon.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
The courageous little bugger twies so hawd.
Beautiful, really. I love it when idiots do my will. I have been suggesting people not pay there taxes. In large enough numbers, there would be NOTHING the government could do. Why would I suggest such a thing? Easy, because the government is too big, out of our control, and out of it’s collective mind. It needs to be shrunk, though unlike most cancers, it cannot be totally excised. Priorities, money management, education, police, military, and many other areas need to be completely re-evaluated and given only their dues, not the globs of multi- often conflicting government programs thrown at problems which often do not exist while completely ignoring the complete inability to carry out it’s prime missions, protecting our boarders, people, government, and culture for nefarious or even innocent invasion or control.
Who has done this, who has created this morass we call a society? Safety first advocates, it has been suggested, and I concur. More to the point, women voters. They do not know or care, often, but this is how they want it and that is that. But the cost… do not care. But real civil rig… do not care. And justice? As long as no one gets hurt and everything is absolutely fair and even. The last seems decent until my 65 year old mother gets strip searched every other time she goes to Vegas to visit my brother’s family and Muhamed al Towelwrap never gets checked. And, more, it is now a portion of the male voters with apron strings so tight they cannot think, or a girl friend or thing with his male pride in her purse. A situation untenable only decades ago, but with the vote, they gained the family courts and control over the family, which they have run into the ground. What exactly are men made of? Mothers? No, without fathers the “men” of today are at best lackluster nutless sacks of emotions.
So, when I see this dolt, one of those last or gay as Hillary I should think, threatening to cut off taxes, I am thinking… yeah boy, you go. Of course, he did cut the taxes, but in a typical cowardly manner. Yep, clipped, strangled, but more likely gay. And bound to be the bottom “man” in any case. Still, he is twying. But the true beauty is that the lad probably does not even comprehend what a shutting down of the government would really do. It would, for a fact, not end the war. It would end his free condoms, his nearly free education, end most of the programs he supports, end immigration as we know it, and then it would begin to start affecting the military. *hush* He's hunting a wascalwy wabbit! he he he
Who has done this, who has created this morass we call a society? Safety first advocates, it has been suggested, and I concur. More to the point, women voters. They do not know or care, often, but this is how they want it and that is that. But the cost… do not care. But real civil rig… do not care. And justice? As long as no one gets hurt and everything is absolutely fair and even. The last seems decent until my 65 year old mother gets strip searched every other time she goes to Vegas to visit my brother’s family and Muhamed al Towelwrap never gets checked. And, more, it is now a portion of the male voters with apron strings so tight they cannot think, or a girl friend or thing with his male pride in her purse. A situation untenable only decades ago, but with the vote, they gained the family courts and control over the family, which they have run into the ground. What exactly are men made of? Mothers? No, without fathers the “men” of today are at best lackluster nutless sacks of emotions.
So, when I see this dolt, one of those last or gay as Hillary I should think, threatening to cut off taxes, I am thinking… yeah boy, you go. Of course, he did cut the taxes, but in a typical cowardly manner. Yep, clipped, strangled, but more likely gay. And bound to be the bottom “man” in any case. Still, he is twying. But the true beauty is that the lad probably does not even comprehend what a shutting down of the government would really do. It would, for a fact, not end the war. It would end his free condoms, his nearly free education, end most of the programs he supports, end immigration as we know it, and then it would begin to start affecting the military. *hush* He's hunting a wascalwy wabbit! he he he
Saying goobye is not always hard to do.
Staying up until 5:00 was not the best plan, but and again, it just happened. I received a call at 7:15 about this and that, oh and the other thing and what did I think. Who? You are not awake, should I call back, and then some other squirrel chatter. What? I will call back when you are more awake the agitated one declares. Ok. Bye times two. *click*
My eyes begin to seek light, my mind looks for a way through the veil, and my feet find the floor. It is right at 12:00. I gather my energy a bit, wake for a few minutes, fifteen minutes that is, and call her. What is the game plan? I am going to the library, I will call you when I am done. That was easy I am thinking. I took a nap in the interim, I need to check a few things, did you get the equipment I wanted. Ok, and yes. Bye doubled. *click* So, I stir and then sit my machine. News first. No news. Blogs next. Little action there, but some. Hmmm, someone is at my door. Doh! What is she doing here already? I thought she got lost in there for spats of time. *sigh* She looks over the equipment and notes the price difference I mentioned before. Yes, little one, but this has the straps included, and most likely, the right size and strength. These have those in it? I have watched her handle the package for the last three minutes and cannot see how she could not know. I saw them as I was walking to the package, five feet or further away, while also in a hurry to get to other items, but ok. Yes, they are in the package. A little fussing and her hands land upon the evidence that I can see from my distant cut angle. I can see why faith is difficult for some. Well, she indicates she has a menu worked out. Yep, ribs tonight, chicken tomorrow, milk and granola, a few salads, and that should be good. We shall see, sounds alright though. I will add a package of hamburger as well, and another cut of beef I prefer to grill. The frozen meats will add to the cooling while thawing. It all works give or take. The ribs will be gone, if not tonight, for lunch tomorrow. Some of the other food will be fine if cooked on our last night out, with the coolers to help. Plus, there should be plenty to bring back, fairly freshly cooked. She is off, she says, to the library. But, I think, am about to say, but… Ok, I say. I’ll be a few hours, see you in a bit. Bye squared. Perhaps the last of the bread, I am thinking as she leaves.
A quick note here, a dive through the rain room, a dance with some cotton, maybe a chunk of something down the gullet, and away I will go. Oh, best to get a ground cloth, that was one of my oversights. A little shopping for some of those items, and it will be time. I was supposed to take my rod and reel over to the neighbors, but that just did not happen obviously. If I see someone that way on my way hither or thither, I will let off an apology. Bye, times one.
My eyes begin to seek light, my mind looks for a way through the veil, and my feet find the floor. It is right at 12:00. I gather my energy a bit, wake for a few minutes, fifteen minutes that is, and call her. What is the game plan? I am going to the library, I will call you when I am done. That was easy I am thinking. I took a nap in the interim, I need to check a few things, did you get the equipment I wanted. Ok, and yes. Bye doubled. *click* So, I stir and then sit my machine. News first. No news. Blogs next. Little action there, but some. Hmmm, someone is at my door. Doh! What is she doing here already? I thought she got lost in there for spats of time. *sigh* She looks over the equipment and notes the price difference I mentioned before. Yes, little one, but this has the straps included, and most likely, the right size and strength. These have those in it? I have watched her handle the package for the last three minutes and cannot see how she could not know. I saw them as I was walking to the package, five feet or further away, while also in a hurry to get to other items, but ok. Yes, they are in the package. A little fussing and her hands land upon the evidence that I can see from my distant cut angle. I can see why faith is difficult for some. Well, she indicates she has a menu worked out. Yep, ribs tonight, chicken tomorrow, milk and granola, a few salads, and that should be good. We shall see, sounds alright though. I will add a package of hamburger as well, and another cut of beef I prefer to grill. The frozen meats will add to the cooling while thawing. It all works give or take. The ribs will be gone, if not tonight, for lunch tomorrow. Some of the other food will be fine if cooked on our last night out, with the coolers to help. Plus, there should be plenty to bring back, fairly freshly cooked. She is off, she says, to the library. But, I think, am about to say, but… Ok, I say. I’ll be a few hours, see you in a bit. Bye squared. Perhaps the last of the bread, I am thinking as she leaves.
A quick note here, a dive through the rain room, a dance with some cotton, maybe a chunk of something down the gullet, and away I will go. Oh, best to get a ground cloth, that was one of my oversights. A little shopping for some of those items, and it will be time. I was supposed to take my rod and reel over to the neighbors, but that just did not happen obviously. If I see someone that way on my way hither or thither, I will let off an apology. Bye, times one.
Another day in the life, with mixed results.
I was having trouble mobilizing this morning, but darn it, I was going to do something. I thought the neighbors I am expecting showed up today while I was out getting some fresh air. I had not prepped for company, so made a bit of a mad dash for the door. Locked, which I usually do not do since I am right there, foolishness! So, back to safety from view at the back of the garage. I listened a bit, and it sounded as if someone entered their door. I thought I heard bits and pieces of this and that, but I just could not tell for sure, without looking. Finally, I peak around the corner. No one is there, the car is still in the drive, now is my chance. Oh! The door is still locked, so I back to the safety of the garage after the little go,-no-keys-so-stop,-get-back dance, I dig for my keys, find the necessary one, and speed along to the door, unlock, open, in. *breathe* Cool.
So, I hop in the shower, dress more formally, finish the rest of my grooming, and out the door I go. Their car is still there, so I ring the bell, once. No one answers and I am not about to be pushy. Then I realize it is the 4th of July, they may truly only be stopping through and using the place as a base from which to enjoy the festivities, use their parking space, and be close to the main attractions, easy walking distance to everything, thus, gone. Still, hmph. I decide to leave a note, so I go in, scribble out a salutation, several paragraphs, and a closing. I put the stick-it note to their door. I then think it might be a good time to head out and look for my desired camping goods. Ah, but my list is right where I would not forget it, so I return to the cave and retrieve it. As I am heading to the garage to depart, I notice my note did not and will not stay attached to their door. Blarney, a quick crumpling and into my pocket it goes. I unholster my X’ter and back it out. I notice a lot of foot traffic and parked vehicles. I close the garage, back, carefully, into the street, and am about to take off when I see the road ahead of me is blocked off. My eyes fasten to the rear mirror. Yep, I am trapped by a parade. I stable the stud, and go to the cave to pout.
I pout. I am also tired. Nap time, why push it for no cause? Especially since I am in such a sweet mood. I dress down for the nap, and put my list where I will not forget it. Wham! I did not see that coming. I slept for three hours or so, and barely escaped with my senses. Sweet! I am mood modified, ready to go, and most likely, will be able to move. All true it seems, after a quick reckon. I return to grab my phone, a sometimes thing, and as I seek it, it rings. Hello? I am wounded, what do you have that will cut skin? I think to myself, teeth, but doubt that is the proper answer. Uhm, a medical kit, a number of scissors, knives, and some small pointy things. The medical kit, oh and maybe something to clean wounds. Cool, I get to make her say “Ow!” while we play doctor and she does not have to fake. Or was the claim of a fake a fake? And, if true, is that right? *sigh* Uhm, anything to put on wounds? Well, triple anti-biotic, peroxide, and iodine for sure, oh, and kosher salt. Yeah, thanks, bring the first three and we will talk. Well, I could not get it done her way with here fussing every time she did not like things and she could not do the task gimped up with it being her right hand as the problem, but the two of us together eventually got the wound (wounds, actually, a couple of sever blisters, popped, with soil deep in a pocket of one) cleaned out, the dead skin removed, and bandages placed. She is so fun to assist when she is that tired. Oh, she needs a few things from the outfitters, since I will be going that way. Something she saw in a magazine, a kayak travel system. Fine, but I really need to compliment you on those blisters, they were swell, I think. I am in too sweet a mood to say what crosses my mind this day. Or, everything at least.
So, off to the store I go. I reach for my list. Hmm, I know right were it is. I enter, head up the steps since I do not like escalators, and to the section where the goods I need are located. Dry bags, first, well no, on to the kayak pieces. Right near the dry bags, so that ends nicely. The system is there, though with two heavy duty straps, and $39 instead of the stated $19. It will do. The dry bags are handy, so I look over the sizes and almost choose. Then I look at my boots. I want to keep a complete set of dry clothes in each, including a pair of dry boots in at least one. The sizes are adjusted, the smaller of the two I choose to have as clear, and on to sleeping pads. I had hoped the cheap ones would do, even if temporarily. Nothing they had seemed to fit the bill. I messed with this, that, and the other. Compared length, width, and depths, prices and other things were looked it. It came down to $80 or $130. I took the $80, but this may not be over. Off to the grills. As I am nearing these, I notice some silverware sets. I had thought about the cheaper metal ones, like the Boy Scout ones, fit together on two protruding buttons on the knife, sliding through the fork and spoon. But I saw a niftier set and grabbed two. I remembered hating those protruding buttons from when I was in the Boy Scouts, while deciding. Weird how memories can percolate to the top of the deck by a random flick of the mind. Now, a grill grate. I look but find no cast iron grates. I speak with a rep, right this way. A standing, three prong one, right? No, a four legged fire squatter, cast iron, I advise. Hmmm, we have stainless, this way sir. The lights go out. Now, it is not totally dark as it is only 18:00 and there are many and large windows more central to the space, and a large central glass seeming protruding sky square. But, I cannot compare the prices or features of the two items. The young man asks that the lights be turned on for a moment in this area. And I ask what is going on. Ah, he says, closing time. It is the 4th. Right you are, I assure, and thank him for even working on the day. Still, no light shines forth, I grab the one that seems the heaviest, and I head for the checkout line. A quick line. The manager is already closing part of my exit, and the checker had been counting up receipts. The whole crew was ready to go, and I was a thorn. Still, they were very polite, courteous even, if certain. A thanks for the extra time, a wave, and I go.
I am satisfied. Though, after returning home, I get on the computer and ruin my story, or expose the real fiction to be my story telling skills, depending on how one looks at it. Then I have a few pieces of bread, yum, and then go out for a breath of fresh air. Hmm, someone is or is trying to park a minivan in the neighbors spot. Is this the husband bringing stuff to unload, or just setting up? I head out, as he sort of does a wave, sort of hello, sort of I am sorry jiggle. Hmm, ok. I close and begin speaking with him. I think he almost peed his pants. He says my neighbor said he could park here, and was it ok, and hi do I remember him. Slow down son, I am not a cannibal… hrmm, well, I’m not hungry now anyway, I think. Yes, I remember, and of course you can park there. I go out to shake his hand and see my neighbor, some extended family I had known was there, and a few new faces. Ok, I was a little surprised, barefooted, and possibly with messy hair (ended up no messy hair, but I did not know at this point). Hi! *big smiles* So, a little mutual conversation, a few introductions, the gentleman who I had initially been speaking with takes his leave with his children, and I get invited to watch the fireworks with the neighbors, and as I am to learn, her mother. Bring a chair and come on over. An excuse to set things up properly, and a nod. Into the cave I hurry. Hair is good, but I give it a correction anyway, socks and boots on, and a chair is obtained.
While we are preparing for the big fireworks show, we are watching rather large rockets, sparkers, and such go off from back in the jungle, as high as 50 to 100 feet easily. *Boom* Down the street, some more of Chicago’s finest make do with rocket salvos, Roman candles, and firecrackers. *boom* I had suggested that Iowa must be changing, as these used to be verboten. The works come out at my neighbors. Bottle rockets, to start. A few go up, then on to little twirlers. Three of those go off, lighting the air for three or four feet in the air, gone completely before even a spark hits the ground. An officer drives up as the last of these is being lit. Three big booms from little Chicago go off behind us. He stops, looks out at my neighbor, and says, one more and you are going to jail. *Boom* Two more behind us, one down the street. I am not lighting the big ones. Those are too big, you heard me. Sparkers, worms, and something else is all that is allowed. *Bboom* He drives off, never to be seen again. The rockets continue to our west and north. It is most obvious that we are seen as the problem.
The show was fun to watch. Large and small, booms and lights, and a fine finally. After, I was invited in for ice cream and fresh brownies. Yum, again, only better. A little light conversation was sent round, the mother became a more familiar woman, and a little bit of Americana life was consumed. The littlest one wanted to be put to bed, so she was, the others seemed tired and ready if not willing to concede to sleep, and I was feeling that it was about time to go. So, after a few waves and an attempt at a quiet exit, I headed out. I was reminded where my chair was, and a few more passing salutations, and then to the cave, with my chair in tow.
I am tired, again. But, mostly, happily so.
So, I hop in the shower, dress more formally, finish the rest of my grooming, and out the door I go. Their car is still there, so I ring the bell, once. No one answers and I am not about to be pushy. Then I realize it is the 4th of July, they may truly only be stopping through and using the place as a base from which to enjoy the festivities, use their parking space, and be close to the main attractions, easy walking distance to everything, thus, gone. Still, hmph. I decide to leave a note, so I go in, scribble out a salutation, several paragraphs, and a closing. I put the stick-it note to their door. I then think it might be a good time to head out and look for my desired camping goods. Ah, but my list is right where I would not forget it, so I return to the cave and retrieve it. As I am heading to the garage to depart, I notice my note did not and will not stay attached to their door. Blarney, a quick crumpling and into my pocket it goes. I unholster my X’ter and back it out. I notice a lot of foot traffic and parked vehicles. I close the garage, back, carefully, into the street, and am about to take off when I see the road ahead of me is blocked off. My eyes fasten to the rear mirror. Yep, I am trapped by a parade. I stable the stud, and go to the cave to pout.
I pout. I am also tired. Nap time, why push it for no cause? Especially since I am in such a sweet mood. I dress down for the nap, and put my list where I will not forget it. Wham! I did not see that coming. I slept for three hours or so, and barely escaped with my senses. Sweet! I am mood modified, ready to go, and most likely, will be able to move. All true it seems, after a quick reckon. I return to grab my phone, a sometimes thing, and as I seek it, it rings. Hello? I am wounded, what do you have that will cut skin? I think to myself, teeth, but doubt that is the proper answer. Uhm, a medical kit, a number of scissors, knives, and some small pointy things. The medical kit, oh and maybe something to clean wounds. Cool, I get to make her say “Ow!” while we play doctor and she does not have to fake. Or was the claim of a fake a fake? And, if true, is that right? *sigh* Uhm, anything to put on wounds? Well, triple anti-biotic, peroxide, and iodine for sure, oh, and kosher salt. Yeah, thanks, bring the first three and we will talk. Well, I could not get it done her way with here fussing every time she did not like things and she could not do the task gimped up with it being her right hand as the problem, but the two of us together eventually got the wound (wounds, actually, a couple of sever blisters, popped, with soil deep in a pocket of one) cleaned out, the dead skin removed, and bandages placed. She is so fun to assist when she is that tired. Oh, she needs a few things from the outfitters, since I will be going that way. Something she saw in a magazine, a kayak travel system. Fine, but I really need to compliment you on those blisters, they were swell, I think. I am in too sweet a mood to say what crosses my mind this day. Or, everything at least.
So, off to the store I go. I reach for my list. Hmm, I know right were it is. I enter, head up the steps since I do not like escalators, and to the section where the goods I need are located. Dry bags, first, well no, on to the kayak pieces. Right near the dry bags, so that ends nicely. The system is there, though with two heavy duty straps, and $39 instead of the stated $19. It will do. The dry bags are handy, so I look over the sizes and almost choose. Then I look at my boots. I want to keep a complete set of dry clothes in each, including a pair of dry boots in at least one. The sizes are adjusted, the smaller of the two I choose to have as clear, and on to sleeping pads. I had hoped the cheap ones would do, even if temporarily. Nothing they had seemed to fit the bill. I messed with this, that, and the other. Compared length, width, and depths, prices and other things were looked it. It came down to $80 or $130. I took the $80, but this may not be over. Off to the grills. As I am nearing these, I notice some silverware sets. I had thought about the cheaper metal ones, like the Boy Scout ones, fit together on two protruding buttons on the knife, sliding through the fork and spoon. But I saw a niftier set and grabbed two. I remembered hating those protruding buttons from when I was in the Boy Scouts, while deciding. Weird how memories can percolate to the top of the deck by a random flick of the mind. Now, a grill grate. I look but find no cast iron grates. I speak with a rep, right this way. A standing, three prong one, right? No, a four legged fire squatter, cast iron, I advise. Hmmm, we have stainless, this way sir. The lights go out. Now, it is not totally dark as it is only 18:00 and there are many and large windows more central to the space, and a large central glass seeming protruding sky square. But, I cannot compare the prices or features of the two items. The young man asks that the lights be turned on for a moment in this area. And I ask what is going on. Ah, he says, closing time. It is the 4th. Right you are, I assure, and thank him for even working on the day. Still, no light shines forth, I grab the one that seems the heaviest, and I head for the checkout line. A quick line. The manager is already closing part of my exit, and the checker had been counting up receipts. The whole crew was ready to go, and I was a thorn. Still, they were very polite, courteous even, if certain. A thanks for the extra time, a wave, and I go.
I am satisfied. Though, after returning home, I get on the computer and ruin my story, or expose the real fiction to be my story telling skills, depending on how one looks at it. Then I have a few pieces of bread, yum, and then go out for a breath of fresh air. Hmm, someone is or is trying to park a minivan in the neighbors spot. Is this the husband bringing stuff to unload, or just setting up? I head out, as he sort of does a wave, sort of hello, sort of I am sorry jiggle. Hmm, ok. I close and begin speaking with him. I think he almost peed his pants. He says my neighbor said he could park here, and was it ok, and hi do I remember him. Slow down son, I am not a cannibal… hrmm, well, I’m not hungry now anyway, I think. Yes, I remember, and of course you can park there. I go out to shake his hand and see my neighbor, some extended family I had known was there, and a few new faces. Ok, I was a little surprised, barefooted, and possibly with messy hair (ended up no messy hair, but I did not know at this point). Hi! *big smiles* So, a little mutual conversation, a few introductions, the gentleman who I had initially been speaking with takes his leave with his children, and I get invited to watch the fireworks with the neighbors, and as I am to learn, her mother. Bring a chair and come on over. An excuse to set things up properly, and a nod. Into the cave I hurry. Hair is good, but I give it a correction anyway, socks and boots on, and a chair is obtained.
While we are preparing for the big fireworks show, we are watching rather large rockets, sparkers, and such go off from back in the jungle, as high as 50 to 100 feet easily. *Boom* Down the street, some more of Chicago’s finest make do with rocket salvos, Roman candles, and firecrackers. *boom* I had suggested that Iowa must be changing, as these used to be verboten. The works come out at my neighbors. Bottle rockets, to start. A few go up, then on to little twirlers. Three of those go off, lighting the air for three or four feet in the air, gone completely before even a spark hits the ground. An officer drives up as the last of these is being lit. Three big booms from little Chicago go off behind us. He stops, looks out at my neighbor, and says, one more and you are going to jail. *Boom* Two more behind us, one down the street. I am not lighting the big ones. Those are too big, you heard me. Sparkers, worms, and something else is all that is allowed. *Bboom* He drives off, never to be seen again. The rockets continue to our west and north. It is most obvious that we are seen as the problem.
The show was fun to watch. Large and small, booms and lights, and a fine finally. After, I was invited in for ice cream and fresh brownies. Yum, again, only better. A little light conversation was sent round, the mother became a more familiar woman, and a little bit of Americana life was consumed. The littlest one wanted to be put to bed, so she was, the others seemed tired and ready if not willing to concede to sleep, and I was feeling that it was about time to go. So, after a few waves and an attempt at a quiet exit, I headed out. I was reminded where my chair was, and a few more passing salutations, and then to the cave, with my chair in tow.
I am tired, again. But, mostly, happily so.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
It could happen, part III.
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.
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.
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.
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