Pound a stake in, light it on fire, and call "organic" dead.

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Don't look at me with those sad "I want to spend every nickel you and I can obtain for this ambrosia" eyes.  As I said then, and will prove again and now with Stanford and again with the Berkly man, "organic" deserves quote, because it is no more so than any other fruits or vegetables (pick the cheaper and freshest, for quantity and quality, as I tried to teach you). h/t AOsH

As noted, the Berklyite suggests that 99% of pesticides are inherent to the fruit or vegetable, actually created by the food to defend itself, naturally.  Further, of nearly 250 studies on nutrition and lack of pathogens, "organic" food doesn't hold any advantage.  And beyond, the difference in pesticides on the various foods does not stand, with the added note that what is found on foods is naturally occurring.

Throw in that where organic foods are produced, women are children are left to the back-breaking drudgery of hand weeding.  Understand that once certified, having your crop "polluted" by a neighboring farm's use of anything or cross pollination doesn't invalidate a farmers certification.  Plus the fact that using animal manure, and other "organic" fertilizers, introduces e-coli and other pathogens right into "organic" food.  Add to that the fact that since "organic" produce and fruits produce less product per acre, they consume much more water (a truly rare and becoming rarer resource) per product.  Keep adding, I am positive there are things I am missing.  Then add in the additional cost out of the economy for no good reason, and you will find yourself exactly where I found myself after only a few months of research after being introduced to the poison pill that is "organics".  Then again, that it was mostly single women and metrosexuals at the farmers market...  That should have been enough of a clue, and actually was my first clue.

From a cook to the clueless.... if you want solid nutrition, should you even desire these... vegetable things... in your food, simply buy the freshest.  Price IS a consideration.  I don't know about you, but money doesn't grow, "organically" or not, on my trees.  I won't eschew "organic", if it is fresher and the same price, but like, yeah, that's ever happened.  If you want the best vegetables, grow your own.  You will know what was put on it (if not what is in it, as has been shown, fruits and vegetables produce their own toxins to protect themselves).

The thing about growing your own is two-fold.  First, it really may not pay if you have other salable skills.  Second, it will, when you are doing it, be at least a part time job.  But if you want to produce all your own vegetables, it will be more like a full time summer job.  Plus, it doesn't stop at planting, tending, and harvesting.  You then have to learn canning methods and obtain those tools and expendables.  Just understand that.  Further, you are on the hook if hail takes out your garden, bugs invade beyond your ability to control, or too much or little rain wipes out your food.  There is NO FREE LUNCH.  (For my part I will home garden if I can get up to speed, but not for reduced risk, or lower cost, more for prep and hobby.  Food risk is... probably not truly one of the risks you should greatly concern yourself with anyway.  It's the alien aimed meteors you have to watch for!)

The other thing is... don't worry so much.  Trust me, if it is your time to die, if that organic tofu and vegetable lunch you had doesn't choke you on the way down it will bubble into a toxic cloud and get you at a later date.  There is no such thing as a free lunch or immortality this go-around.  Besides, my guess is they will eventually understand, in truth, that a Snickers bar is better for you than current "health food".  Maybe they already know, but are stocking up for the run on them when the news finally hits the mainstream.  Eat, drink, do it in moderation, shut up.

Next, to kill the GM-food myth, then I will be... satisfied that politics is being shoved out of science.  Oh, never worry.  I do believe GM-foods need close examination, in a number of ways and on various fronts.  It is just that fraudulent science is currently hindering the correct... discussions.  Academia, even if this is true, that it is backing out of polemic "science", still has a long way to go.  *cough* evolution *cough*  There are many things that absolutely have to be shoved out and put down.  *cough* women's and ethnic studies *cough*  There are things probably trying to crop up now, expand, and such. *cough* Anthro Global Warming *cough*  Thankfully, as with "genetic foods", the cost is becoming unbearable in ever shrinking budgets, and as the actually worth of those shrinking budgets crashes (due to the very bubbles created by the poor judgment of academia, through becoming toxically polemic, coupled with a complete loss of moral and ethic teaching which used to be coupled to what was taught, I should add).

Who knows, school may eventually shrink to... reading, writing, and arithmetic, in a one room-for-all class.  Colleges may go back to actually teaching professions rightly and having a legitimate liberal arts program for the few cube-dwellers still needed for the stupid middle management stuff and so the rich brats can think they know something.  Though it would be good to keep sports, so the boys who have no other interest might be lulled into learning how to read and do a bit of math.  Hmm, and they could keep (reintroduce from what I have heard?) shop to actually teach something to some of the other recalcitrant boys (and home ec. for girls, again, to actually teach them what they should and need to know).

Economic collapse is... looking better and better.  If too there is a... calculus problem involved.  With everything racing to zero (no pun intended this time), will anything actually get to zero, and if so, which factor(s) go(es) to zero first?  These are vital questions, as they will shape the whole of the rebuilding, or destructive, nature of things to follow for decades, perhaps centuries.  While it looks like the work of man, I tell you, you know Whose hand guides all, you know what His anger can and has done.  Unless this is the end, I am thinking that He is being rather... generous.  He is doing things in steps, so that we may... choose our poison.  We will see.  But some of it, much of it, is left to us, even still. On the negative side, however, far too few seem to be taking the hint.

Mostly dead?

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I have come to that conclusion.  And, to be honest, it is mostly true.  I have learned how to make it, sometimes going without food, but always keeping just enough going and on target to not actually die.  Today, on another thread, a movie came up, one I watched toward the beginning of my ill health.  I had no idea, at that time, how true some things were to me.  Although I did note some... similarities.  As I said, exhaustion was my plague and this movie, towards the latter part, has the hero become rather limited, quite similarly, actually.

Yes? Not a chance.

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Whatever the problem is, it's troubling.  I ended up making it only to 11:00 or so.  At which time I had few choices, actually no choice.  A nap it was.  I set the alarm for 14:00.  I woke before that, got up, tried to get going, but before 14:00 I was back in bed.  I set the alarm for 16:00 and went back to bed.  Had I seen my shadow?  I woke just an hour later or so.  I am still absolutely exhausted.  No, I have been taking my medicine.  I am wondering if my recent spat of missing medicine is throwing me back into a bit of the turbulence that comes when I restart medicine.  I am hoping it is shorter and lighter, being somewhat dosed as I am.

Someone was discussing solipsism, regarding women, lately.  And in so doing, I realized, along with some recent events, that there is a reason for that.  Along with the fragility of the female anatomy, to illness, to responses, to emotions, I honestly think God realized the problem of considering self first for them, and used it to the advantage of the family.  I noticed, when Sam (my elder cat) got sick, my mother was right on that.  She declared it held an horrific odor (it doesn't, trust me, I don't think it smells at all).  I honestly think my mother's wires were crossing with memories of when my brother and myself were young and would get ill... or poop.  The look is probably not that dissimilar.  And odor or not, it seems to affect women much more strongly than the way it affects men.  My notion is that women clean for themselves, it just happens to be of a benefit to others, even men, mostly.  It does make me wonder about what else relating to the notions of being tender, caring, loving, and whatnot have more to do with how it affects the woman than any outpouring of gentle feelings from women?  Just... saying...  I, for one, do not have a strong belief that women are more loving or caring, they are merely stuck in a bio-feedback loop that makes it look that way at a glance.  God is tricky that way.

Oh, no, he catches us men like that too, in a very different way.  But, this isn't about that.  You'll have to figure out the why and wherefor of that on your lonesome.  I have some notions but I'm not going to arm you.  If you are disagreeing, I have a suspicion why.  Which also makes me pretty sure you won't ever figure it out without being told, and probably wouldn't use it wisely if told.  You weren't born to war, or win.  Given enough weapons for the sex war, you would merely wage more war more often and lose more spectacularly.  Now, go away or I shall taunt you a second time.  (Proof: if you don't understand the first taunt thing, you definitely shouldn't know more.  Besides, you couldn't handle the next taunt.)

Of course, there is a reason for that function.  It all but, until abortion and contraception, guaranteed the propagation of the species.  With that gate to the natural road to pleasure if through pain shuttered, women are choosing to... kill off the species, where and when allowed.  Although my guess is God very much left that to those who would choose it, along with the cost of making such a choice.  Ah well.  Gilded ages aren't meant to last, not when humility is turned to hubris.

I am hoping to get to sleep at some kind of normal hour.  Actually I am worried, even now, of staying up until a proper bedtime, as well.  Gah!  I hate when things get all haywire.  At least the cat vomit isn't affecting me!  Later.

Clouding, with crystal snow, but the sun might fix that.

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A rough night.  I thought I would be able to sleep at 20:00.  I was tired enough, it seemed like it would work, so I got in to bed.  My bedroom was the correct degree of frigid, the blankets held just the right amount of heat.  I was easily able to find comfort.  *blink*  I thought that perhaps just a little time, or imagining flying, or such, might lead to sleep.  *blink*  Bleh.  So I read a bit, got up and read in one of the recliners as reading in bed isn't my favorite, then finally tried it at about 23:00, when I realized how late it had become.  That did the trick.  Dreams, lots and lots of dreams, all night it seemed.  I don't remember a single one, but ones I remember having remembered seemed to tickle my funny bone. 

I remember an argument between a woman type and myself, of epic length if little depth, not too unlike the old "Whose on second" Abbot and Costello bit.  Only, she was serious, and seriously lost, and I gave up trying to help her and just had a ball.  But I can't remember more.  THAT would have been fun to get down.  I have had conversations like that.  Women get angry, eventually, assuming they aren't angry at the start already.  But when you can, after they calm down, show that while you were goofing... you also weren't?  That everything you said was linearly accurate and true, in one context or another?  It really bugs them, and they can even, once in a while, stop being angry with you (mostly, a bit, she's getting better).  Uhrm, just... don't count on it.  Women go through stages of getting over being angry with you, stages which include flashbacks from past stages in which they were still angry at you over something they have released you from since.  Gah!  They are cats, be their ball of string.  Lots of fun for all.  Watch the claws. 

I could rise no better than I could sleep.  I slept through the alarm right up to 8:30, give or take a few minutes.  I know I rose up a few times and viewed the clock, but I simply could not make the right brain cells connect and fire.  Although 8:30 isn't great, it is better than what I thought.  I had thought I saw that it was 9:30, or later.  I can never tell if, looking at the clock, I am dreaming that I am doing so or that I am actually doing so.  I have even awaken to the alarm clock only to find that it is midnight and no alarm was sounding.  I truly hate that particular dream, if it is rare.  Oddly I am always able to get back to sleep, whereas in real life, if the alarm wakes me, I have a very difficult time tucking back in.

Hmm, today?  Mass.  That is it outside.  I am going to go ahead and take today off from swimming.  The back wall needs another coat of paint.  The ceiling is just fine, though, after... three coats?  I have screwed the light fixture into the ceiling and will be connecting that to power today, then figuring out small repairs on the long shade for it, which has cracks in the bends.  Clear tape and super glue, seems to be the stuff to use for that fix.  I am quite pleased with the repair, if honestly I am hoping, at some point, to dig in a bit deeper and install the electrical line correctly.  As is, even when the switch is off, the power is still very much live.  I would say that is my first serious and good repair job involving something brand new, start to stop, for me.  My mother will be quite pleased to have a light back there, as will I actually, again.  And I am satisfied that the thing isn't some kind of deathtrap, and was done as well as I could do it.  Oh, dishes and folding the last of the laundry.  Ugh but I truly hate doing dishes, until they are done.  Breakfast, too, of some sort.  And maybe boiling a dozen eggs for next week?  I'll check to see how long boiled eggs last, shelled, in the fridge.

Later.

Always a cynic?

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Well, always a doubter.  I would have shoved St. Thomas aside, even if he had already found out and swore to me the truth of the matter.  It is more than seeing with my eyes, too.  Only half of what I see with my own eyes is even believed.  I do not believe what I see on film of any type, not through a translational viewer of any type, but with my very own eyes.  What helps is, for example, my mother says she is coming, I see her and approach her, and she recognizes me.  Okay, now she is here.  See?  I can, and am, still fooled.  I like to think I am fooled less often than more, and less often than most.  I can't swear to it, but I am still alive.

In this case it is merely about paint brushes.  I had two 3" brushes.  I couldn't remember rightly, but I thought I had been using the "good" (expensive) one.  I doubted there was a lick of difference, in truth.  I had purchased them on a lark long ago.  It is just, until now, I had no means of testing them since I had nothing to paint.  I had purchased them to test the difference between dirt cheap and pricey.

As it turns out, the first brush was left out, with paint on it, overnight.  While the paint is interior, so water soluble, when it dries it seems not to be the case.  I don't have paint thinner, or other gunk, to try to clean the brush... and that would probably cost more than a new brush, which right at the moment I don't wish to buy as is.  So, it went into the trash (though it is on top, on a pizza box, if anyone knows an easy way to save such a brush!).  I went to the drawer, and, to my surprise, found the "good" brush.  I would, it seemed, finally get to answer my question, whether a cheap or fancy paint brush was the best, all around, in my opinion.

So, what is my conclusion, comparing pricey to cheap?  A cheap paint brush will do just fine.  Take your time, stretch out the paint, paint several coats to blend any possible edges, be careful while loading the brush with paint and then getting it to the wall, and it works swell.  If I had to paint a large area, that wouldn't be closely inspected (such as a fence or shed) with nothing but brushes, I would definitely go with cheap brushes.  However, if you want to enter the area of professional look, at speed, with less mess, and have the sense of doing professional work, a fine paint brush will lead you where you want to go.  I can't even fully incorporate the difference in words.  The way the pricier brush held paint, glided so very smoothly, and how the brush lines were almost invisible without much work... to how much paint the good brush held, how evenly it applied it, how easy in a few areas it was to apply a thicker coat... the thing is a dream to use, in every way.  I do believe, for my own purposes, if I need a number of small brushes for little areas, I will choose the more expensive brush.  Simply put it turns a chore into... the want of a hobby!

No, I wouldn't have believed it if some damn fool had told me that, either.  Ah well.  Live and learn.  Now I r a damn fool too.  And I'm telling you!  :p

By the way, regarding gun control.

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Conservatives need to stop what they are doing.  When debating something like gun control, they shouldn't lead like an idiot, or back off, or find a scape-goat like the mentally ill.  They need to stand firm, hold the line, and not give an inch.  The problem is too many "conservative" politicians are no more conservative than Bill Clinton.  They are for corporate, instead of social, welfare.  So an issue like gun control, while they are "for it" because more of their "clients" are for it, they have zero grasp of why.  How many congress critters could pass a basic test regarding the constitution or bill of rights?  Some leftists there could, the same way those same leftists might actually understand the bible better, and much the same way demons and evil spirits know Christ.  These idiots could get their ass handed to them, in all save knowing how to break laws legally, by the average home-schooled teenager.  It is no wonder they fumble the ball as if they had been cheerleaders up until this year and were forced to play football by their father, or something.

What about "shall not be infringed" is confusing?  Even the 1968 law removing the right to own guns by felons is an infringement.  In some cases, that is wise.  But it should be in a case-by-case finding, with the state proving necessity, not the other way around, let alone across the board.  So now we have doctors, so-called mental health workers, and family members on board?  It reminds me of the cluster*($* of the Olympics sex check teams.  If you have to check...  Never mind.  As Vox has pointed out, it would be better if every man and woman had a gun, and could carry, than that even certain sections not be allowed to own.  It, to me, looks like Republicans are just dancing to other forms of restrictions themselves.  They are dancing, purely, with Democrats across the aisle, as I am almost absolutely sure they aren't dancing with fired up constituents, not ones who would vote for them anyway.

What a mess.  And, no, this isn't going to fix itself or be fixed by anyone.  Get used to it or get out, if D.C. has a point about "where?".  But being a foreigner might buy you some time to get out of a quickly falling country to a slightly more stable or better re-stabilizing one.

As to whether Hitler actually enforced a gun ban?  Yes, for the Jewish only, if there were many and varied restrictions, registration, and limits on ammunition types beside the ban for Jewish ownership.  Yes, he did.  So, when your government is attempting, hinting at, or pushing, a ban on guns for you, you had best wake up and understand.  They intend you to be as the German government of the 30's and 40's intended the Jewish people to be.  Dead, at their leisure.  While they didn't completely succeed, do you want to bet on survival at those odds, or in that way?  Understand, the only reason a single Jewish soul survived that hell was because dictators are greedy as hell.  Another thing to consider is... it was America who saved Europe.  Who, exactly, would save America?  Yes, it IS your problem.

A nap, women types, and the day.

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A bit of sleep helped after the early start.  I had to crawl my way to 10:30 or 11:00, but it made sleep the sweeter.  I realized, as I was falling down that deep dark hole of unconsciousness that I had not set the alarm.  While just holding onto the edge of awake I simply thought oh well, as if I had a choice, and let go.  Weee?  Who knows.  I woke just at 13:00, and I mean on the dot.  Hehe  Perfect.  Gosh but I love me a nap at just the right time, for just the right length.  I think I will get to some things now, too.

Even if it was just a nap, I have to run through some sub-routines to get myself booted.  News, blogs, perhaps a post.  Whatever.  Something, anything, to get the neurons lit across the broadest spectrum possible.  To those ends I landed on one of my read-but-don't-comment blogs today.  Something about not liking meat, but enjoying this new to her "organic" beef, sans ketchup or other sauces.

I wrote a fairly well thought out comment.  About having saved my last lady friend from vegetarianism, about myself simply not liking organic, aside from the cost, but that my lady friend seemed to like it.  And perhaps wondering if the flavor profile of "organic" meat was aimed, or not, at female flavor profiles.  But, no, I would not send it.  She has completely ignored, as have her guests, everything I have written since she introduced an academic, one who I guess now was becoming a personal friend, who had some thoughts that maybe, just possibly, he might have been wrong about some of his liberalism, perhaps, at one time.  I outright accused him of condemning non-liberals to exile in his field (for which I am absolutely sure did happen, his field is psychology, DUH!).  Then again, I am realizing, post-comment more and more, that psychology ranks up there with UFO-ology and Big Foot Theorists, now, but that is beside the point.

She decided that coddling that pseudo apologist academic fraud was better than letting him have a dose of reality and a look at what most people really think of him and his academic huckster friends and "profession".  Coddling, of course, is useful.  For children.  The reason men like him exist is because they have been coddled in nice little enclaves where they don't have to deal with reality.  The last thing you want to do, if such a man has misgivings, if they are genuine, is... coddle him!  If he is peeking out of his blinders, tear those bastards off.  He will either run over the cliff in absolute terror or learn to calm himself, grow a pair, and begin thinking about himself in real terms.  Well, I like my solution better in any case.  It seems to have worked well for me in my life.  Yeah, no.  No more commenting at her page, if it would have possibly been interesting to read a legitimate reply to my query from a woman's perspective.  I just know, from experience, that she has chosen against me, period.  Pretty Lady I understood, she was purely delusional, typically woman.  This one?  I guess I thought there might be such a thing as a budding conservative woman.  It's looking more and more like women are just a knot of hormones and feelings, naught much else to them.

She isn't the first "conservative" woman I have seen coddle, either.  Women seem to, if not physically, emotionally have a love affair with the notion of academia.  I suppose it is something that, even if they have technically attained it, they know they are just quotas within.  They, for the most part (vast majority) have no concept of what true academics entails, and know it (even if today most academia has been reduced to their level, meaning it is defunct and moribund, it still seems beyond them?  Whatever).  I bet academics wish they got more physical and less emotional appreciation?  Heh.  I would suggest they forgo that, women aren't that much different.  If you have one, stick with that number and be very happy you don't know better.  What was it said about God?  Ah, He won't give you what you can't handle.  :p

Oh, right.  I need to check the last load in the dryer.  Or is the last load in the washer?  Then I can figure out painting the back room and the back hall wall repair.  Dishes, perhaps, sometime.  I need to drain that soak water and reheat it though.  I absolutely hate washing dishes in slimy cold water, even if it is otherwise very fresh, even in the summer.  Some guys fear frogs, spiders, or such.  I fear putting my hands in cold slimy water... that's for outdoors trekking experiences, not for dishes or hands!  Later.

Medicine does help.

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After the decent start and still pulling swimming yesterday, I was beginning to wonder.  I am still undecided about why Monday was a flop.  It could have been no medicine Sunday, hunger, or the weeks of swimming up to that point at my health level, or even some combination of those things.  Yesterday could have been the former, latter, or a mix of those two things.  Of course, at the moment, I wasn't as sure.  Having gotten back on my medicine, yeah, that does play a big part of things.  Stopping those medicines, a couple of times, in one week, seems to really knock me for a loop, nearly stopping efforts in their tracks.  Actually, even restarting medicine when I saw the problem only begins to correct the problem.  It will take me a bit to climb out of the hole.  Amazing, really, but there it is.

I went to bed late, again, last night.  I am hoping to pull back on bedtime, taking it back to more like 20:00 from the, trending, 23:00.  I was up at 6:00, though, which is better than pushing to, and through, the alarm lately.  I do have some plans for today.  I have one last load of laundry to finish, those dishes to do *grumbles*, the last of the painting as I think the mudding is finished, and finally perhaps the securing and wiring of the light that started the rest of the drywall repairs and painting.  Odd how the beginning of things can be the last to be finished, if it was the most involved of the tasks.

What is frustrating, physique wise, is that as I am coming back to some sort of life, and getting in shape...  I notice the improvements.  I see my chest muscles plumping.  I see and feel my arms and legs tightening, becoming defined again.  And I see the fat the more for it.  It is almost depressing.  Further, I note all the problems I will always have.  Being a large guy, and being blocky anyway, I will never be sleek.  I have the clean lines of a C-130 (as compared to a fighter plane).  I guess I don't mind, it is just that I had lost much of this to the gray fog of poor health.  Now it is right in front of me, incontrovertibly, presented in the fine detail of a waking mind and opening eyes.

Much is becoming apparent, again, as I wake... literally wake up, from the fog of a lost twenty years.  Reading, working out, thinking, looking, traveling, being 'out there', all brings to home just what it is I have slept through, what I have become, and what is here, now.  The last post was a reaction to some of that, and what is going on.  And, while I still recommend that folks begin checking the exits, exporting and adding liquidity to their wealth if they have it, and looking for a spot somewhere out there before there isn't one or they can't get to it, I am... considering things.  I would definitely, if I had the means and more health, be considering setting up a place to go, if I wouldn't quite be heading out quite yet either.  I do think it is over though, the America I knew.  I don't think the new one is safe, let alone sane, either.  Still, perhaps I jumped that a bit too quickly.  There hasn't been a response, yet.  I will hold off until I see the response and the... effect of it or them.  If I don't think there IS a strong enough reaction possible, at this point.

Yes, waking 20 years after pretty much going to sleep.  While not in a coma, I can't say I have always been that far from it.  Now, consider, I went to 'sleep' near the end Reagan's second term, and in my early 20's.  While I have lived on my own seemingly, I have attended college, I have traveled, and been politically involved, most of that has been on a very basic level.  It still is, but the door to a more full and awake life lies ahead of me.  If it isn't quite fully open to me yet, and I haven't done more than take a baby step or two toward getting out of my health prison, I am able to finally, fully, recognize where I am and where I have been through the contrast of what I see around me and what I see out that door.  The world has changed, as have I.  Brutal, all of it.

I am still not sure if I will go swimming tomorrow or skip it too, yet.  I simply haven't made up my mind.  I will always hold out on deciding.  My hope will always be to get to swimming, or whatever exercise is available to me.  It may even be wise to take a few days to a week off each month, just to let my body switch gears, grow, get used to growth, relax, whatever is needed.  I don't know yet.  Sure, on Ritalin I seemed to need no such rest.  But that was as unnatural as you get.  I think they are still surprised that didn't kill me.  Just can't kill the rooster?  :p

Well, whatever.  Get to it today.  Just... keep an eye on things.  Be thinking, because America is looking less like my home nation and more like a closing trap.  Just as I am coming out of health I am heading to a political prison?  Really?

As things go.

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I decided against swimming even today.  In part due to the fact that I've been forgetting my medicine again.  A couple of days, somehow, went by and I didn't take them.  I'm just having a difficult time with that.  I have a plan to switch a few things up that might help.  The other, and major, part was a sense that I was getting too strong too fast.  I will be skipping Friday, too, if I am hoping to still make it to Mass.  I made it in to get my friend and myself a haircut.  We went to a barber his friend had recommended.  The lady spoke English, the man seemed to.  Not.  Never let a man cut your hair if he doesn't understand what the hell you are telling him.  He seemed to understand, so I went with it.  Never again.  I'm going to recommend my friend not take recommendations from his other friend again.  At this rate I won't need a haircut until after my return from Burning Man.  It looks okay, for what it is.  But it has nothing to do with my instructions.  He spoke to the woman, in Mexican, I am wondering if to understand what I said.  Actually, I'm not even sure she speaks English.

I see Zero went ahead with his illegal manifestos regarding guns.  And, what, most likely is going to happen at this breach of the Constitution?  A bunch of bloggers are going to bitch, "conservative news" will be outraged, congress is going to do nothing but rattle an empty scabbard, the courts are going to buckle, and that will be that.  I've already given up on America.  Stick a fork in her.  Oh, that doesn't mean I'll be surrendering anything.  What it means is, if I can get to health, it will be time to become an expatriate.  I don't want to be involved as a victim or witness to the slaughter that is just around the corner.  And I can't see fighting for a system that is so broke as to produce such a so-called president.  My suggestion, to you dear reader, is that you begin packing it in or surrendering.  You have no friends in the government, at least none with any power, and you have too few friends outside of it.

Even if Zero's shit is somehow set aside, it will only be this time.  And that is a HUGE "if".  Welcome to NAZI America.  If these things aren't set aside, and Zero stripped of virtual or better literal power, and things don't change regarding who gets to vote, and some other issues, the same type of guy will be elected again.  I don't even see the "if" happening, let alone a restoration to a representative republic.  Some of you, unless murdered by zerocare, might live short enough lives that it won't impact you.  Most of you? 

As I said, my goal has changed from becoming healthy so I can live to becoming healthy so that I can leave.  I just hope that happens before I can't get out.  Go ahead, shout, vote for your favorite Dem because they are all the same, work with illegal aliens because it is cheaper, turn in what you have to turn in until you don't have anything, or just hold onto your stuff until you die.  It won't really matter.  Get out, if you can.  Everywhere will become a killing field, though.  It is just that it will hit America like few other places.  Most other places have already culled those who can, will, and do.  They just need a trim to properly socialize.  America has way too many capitalists, unfortunately too many of them don't vote that way.

I'd love to say "not my problem".  But it is.  Unfortunately I have no power or ability to do a thing about it.  I have done what I could, little as that is.  I'm not even sure I did the absolute right things, but I did the best I could.  Ah well.  Like I said, your choice, at this point, is surrender or fleeing.  If nothing else, make as much of your assets liquid, possibly putting as much out of sight and country as possible, and make plans.  It's coming.  Hitler didn't end up giving Germans much time to choose.  I doubt if this one will, either.

Yes, yes, no?

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Good morning?  Feeling good?  Get busy!


Don't ask me!  I went to bed just a bit late but woke just on time.  I suppose 22:03 or even 23:00 isn't way late, and 7:20 isn't all that early, but for me and for today, it seems to be.  I am definitely going to make breakfast this morning.  Nothing fancy, just something down my gullet before, say, 9:30 or something.  I called my friend last night to let him know I would be getting him for a haircut this early afternoon.  And I do plan on swimming, or giving it a go.  I still feel I might be pushing things, with swimming.  Not as much, as say, when I let my mom take the reins, if in a slightly different way.  My body IS feeling... stretched? pushed? prodded? bulked-out?  Something or somethings.  The question is whether hitting the accelerator, keeping my foot level, or hitting the breaks, is the thing to do.  If I were perfectly health, I would, at a minimum, hold my foot level.  In my case, doing so, which might be fine as far as physique is concerned might not be so good for my longevity in staying power.  Staying at it might cause a crash.  Will power only offers just so much.  My strengthening has greater limits.  I may have to plateau, in larger ways, until later in development.  I simply don't know.  Still, as I said, I will be in the pool today, to see how that works.  A full swim is in question, and Friday is potentially on the chopping block.

I didn't finish the laundry or the dishes, if I do have another load to possibly dry or fold this morning.  I finished two loads, but blanked on whether I put the last wash into the dryer?  I hate when I mind blank on something.  Other than swimming and a hair cut, my only other real goal for the day is to finish the dishes.  Ten or eleven pieces?  Come on!  Argh!  You would think I am allergic to dish water, since obviously regular water isn't an issue.  Heck, I take a shower before swimming, swim, then take a shower after.  Of course, it might be an allergy to dirty dishes.  I'll have to check with my doctor.  Hey, if women can claim to be allergic to everything but organic food, our favorite pets, and every other dang thing we like, men have to have our allergies too, you know.  By the way, is there anything a women can't 'gain' an allergy to?  Talk about coddled, even by "medicine"!  Men who do that obtain a very special name, that's all I'm saying right chere.  I'm mostly dead and I couldn't get away with it.  *laughs*

Well, on to my day. 

No appointments?

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Actually, that is more like how I like it.  A barber shop, by men for men?  It was a woman who answered however.  What I generally like about barber shops is not having to... deal with women in a conversation.  Don't even look at me like that.  All you have to do is go into a beauty shop to know 'xactly what I mean in the obverse.  Dogs should have our pound, kitties should get their own.  That's... all I'm saying.  Still, tomorrow early afternoon, she suspected, would be a good time to arrive.  Another half hour and I will check the paint.  If it is dry, and needs it, I will give it one more coat.  The mud should be dry by then, in any case, and another coat will go on.

The Rooster of the Heights... continued...

I was up early.  I didn't bother with a fire, and since I hadn't set up the shower yet, a cold water sponge bath was as good as it got.  I didn't bother with anything fancy for breakfast, just a couple of bars of something or other.  I was tempted by the cold coffee but I just couldn't do it.  Hot coffee, if I don't have it, is more missed than any other deprivation.  But I was onto something.  I didn't know if the road has anything to do with it.  I didn't even know if I would, could, get the story out.  But truth be told, I became a newsman to know, learn the truth.  The job was just a way to get my fix in and get paid for it.  How sad, as I thought about it.  Instead of telling the truth I had become a party to the lies and coverups and corruption I had sworn, in the beginning, to fight.  No time for thinking, my nose was to the ground.  I knew... I would have to deal with those thoughts before long though.  Or become an alcoholic to bury it.  Or start getting a hell of a lot more money to smooth it over.

My pistol was loaded and in my shoulder holster.  From the size of that thing, I didn't have a lot of confidence in the revolver.  But it was better than standing around with my dick in my hand, that I knew, now, finally, too.  Maybe those hillbillies had some truth to them?  What was with all the psychic back-talking today?  Never mind.  I grabbed a day pack, slimmed to what I might really use or need plus a bit of food, and almost went right out the door.  Something... just caught me.  I went to the windows, looked out, covering everything close, then doing a zig-zag with my eyes from close, to right, to further, to left, until I had viewed as much of the area as I could.  I checked the back and side windows then gave the front area one more quick examination.  Paranoid much?  I said out loud, then laughed at myself as hollowly as laughing at a boss's lame stale oft repeated joke.

Jittery now, after some realizations, and my failed attempt to dispel the sense of dread, or powerlessness, I headed out to my vehicle as casually as a policeman would break for fresh cover under fire.  You know, perhaps men are better at some things, and even some men even better at those things.  I myself wasn't feeling all that equal.  I climbed in and lit her up.  Looking around carefully as I reversed into the lane, then glided down the road.  Every dead-man's curve brought a lump into my throat.  Damn, where is your nerve, boy!  I thought.  Yeah, jittery, I said aloud.

Once I got down the dirt trail and onto the road proper, and picked up some speed, I was beginning to normalize.  I was in town before I could think too much and I almost drove straight to where I suspected Glen would be.  Coffee!  I knew it would be terrible, but it would be hot and I could fix it with this and that.  I stopped at the diner.  They didn't have anything to go, so I ran to my rig and grabbed my two travel mugs.  How quaint, they only charged me for one cup, calling the other cup and the extra amounts "refills"... honey, she said.  Gotta love small towns, sometimes, somehow.  Honey.  You don't hear that in the city anymore, save by hookers.

I just walked to see Glen.  I needed some air.  One of the mugs with me, and going down fast.  The sign on the door said they weren't open for another half hour, but the lights were on and both Glen and the young woman who served me yesterday were inside, talking.  She didn't look too pleased.  I tried the door, it was open, so I slipped in.  I had hoped to just siddle up to the conversants unnoticed, but the bell on the door chimed as I entered, almost causing me to shit myself, again.  I hate it when, trying to be sneaky, you give yourself away.  They, however, ignored the bell and continued as if nothing had happened.  Something about stock, where it is, where it is supposed to go.  Boring.  Oh well.

As I approached the counter, the young woman gave me an angry look, if I suspected misdirected if you can never tell, then went into the back room, quietly.  Glen had noticed me, but had decided to finish his conversation first.  Hello, it's been a while, he said.  Yeah, and I explained a bit.  Daughters!, he exclaimed.  I just chuckled.  Not that I know a thing, I can only guess, but... I can guess.  So, are you fishing, need the right dope?  Well, yes, or maybe.  I was a bit jumbled between the goings on the last few days finding their voice through the chit-chat of now and it being so early.  I wondered if you have heard of any large animals near the river.  I mean big, huge, at least large bear sized, I asked.  He looked a little unsettled.  Come over here, he said, as he came from behind the counter and headed over to the front corner of the store, steering me with an outstretched arm so that our conversation would stick to the corner.

Why do you ask, he asked.  I explained what had happened.  Look, he said, there is something going on.  I don't... know the whole story... I thought he was lying at first.  What I do know is that these, sightings, had been staying pretty much up to the highlands.  We had hoped they would stay up there.  There have, possibly, been some people going missing, too.  At first it was just deer, even elk.  The herds were being thinned at an alarming pace.  Then cattle and other livestock, and pets started simply disappearing.  We have had DNR up a couple of times but they failed to even find remains, tracks, nothing.  We've had groups out searching for the lost people as well.  Several helicopters and light planes were added to the last search.  People from the valley with their own planes have spent a lot of air time looking.  No one I know of has actually seen whatever this is, though several of the town's people have had experiences like yours.  But, down in the valley, by the river, you say?  Perhaps he was telling the truth.

I asked if he knew anyone who might know more, someone living further out, higher up.  Most of those cabins are owned by vacationers.  And, usually, this is the time of year for them to be here.  The problem is, a few of them had... experiences... and decided to end their vacation quickly.  The others seem to have gotten word and simply not moved out for the summer.  The only folk who live high and far are a little odd, the Kelps, John and Denise, and a whole pack of kids that I can't keep straight.  Good people though, from what I can tell.  They homestead past the Benson's road.  They are a strange lot, themselves, just coming in for basics like flour, sugar, cloth, odd tools, and the like from time to time.  Actually, if you are thinking about going out that way, I have a package for them.  Taking it to them would save them a trip and earn you some points, plus it would give you a reason to be there.  Honk before you drive through their gate.  And I would suggest that you not let them know you are a reporter.  I'm not sure they care, but they are... different.

I stopped back at the diner, to fill my cup.  No charge.  I really wanted to just head out but those bars tasted like sandpaper with honey and cardboard for filler.  I decided to order a bit to eat.  Being just a bit early for lunch, the place was pretty empty.  Then again I doubt if lunch brought in all that many people.  I doubt if there were forty people in the whole town.  Breakfast was quite satisfying.  Janice, having gotten used to me I guess, or decided I was okay, or okay enough, had become quite friendly.  I wondered about those long legs a time or two.  And she had a wonderful ass, along with that tight body.  I know she caught me staring a few times.  She didn't seem to mind at all, a little too much not at all.  How long had it been?  I was going to try to walk out as squarely as possible.

I didn't know the Benson's road, but I was told there was a gate.  It was the only gated drive on the road, and it was the second to the last turn on the left.   The next left would be to the Kelps' road.  He hadn't given me any directions and there were numerous splits on the old logging road.  I generally took the one that seemed to have seen the most recent traffic, as if I was a cowboy tracker.  I ended up having to turn around and guesstimate my way back several times for various reasons.  After a couple of hours of proving why a little homework pays, I finally found my way toward a fenced cabin.  What a fence, too.  The thing was twenty foot high or something, and... solid.  The gate was open and I drove on in, realizing just a bit late what Glen had said.  Late is better than never, so I honked as the rear bumper cleared the fence.  I drove on up to the house.  I didn't realize from the road, but the fenced enclosure was rather large, two, maybe three, football fields?  Larger?  I just couldn't square it with the odd shape, slope, and rough terrain.

As I pulled up I tried to get the area clear in my mind.  The cabin I was pulling up to was a good two, no two and a half story hewn timber looking cabin, with dormer windows high up.  Further to the east, I think, was a barn looking structure.  It wasn't one of those mini-barns or fashion barns, it was a full size if not massive, barn.  I had no idea how many cattle or horses such a thing could hold.  Funny how much, even as a newsman, I kept running into as news to me!  There were several other smaller, if still sizable sheds and perhaps other livestock housing.  As well, there was a huge garden, two, three?  Perhaps they grew some of their own crop as well as gardening?  I recognized some of the plants in the garden, main garden, or whatever, plainly.  The rest of the green growing stuff I simply didn't recognize.  Then again, I didn't know alfalfa from... what?  A porch ran the length of the front of the home, with a timber railing and hewn wood flooring.  No one seemed to be about.

I got out, headed to the door, then knocked at the front screen.  The heavy wooden door was open but I just didn't want to enter.  Mr. or Mrs. Kelps, I called out.  No answer.  I knocked again, realizing my first knock had been rather limp-wristed.  Nerves?  Again I called out, this time opening the screen door, but not entering.  Hello!  I let the screen door slam shut.  No one answered.  With the home pretty open, and the fence open, I suspected someone would show up sooner or later.  There were a number of chairs and rockers along the veranda, so I picked a heavy duty looking rocker but grabbed my spare coffee before lounging.  As the day wore on, I started to think about things, then began to drift.  Next thing I knew a man was standing next to me.

At least he was only chuckling at my startled reaction.  He gave me the time to collect myself.  I tried to say something a few times before I finally got out, John?  I held my hand out to shake, as I tried to coordinate getting out of the rocker.  How long had I been asleep?  He grabbed my hand and gave it a quick firm shake, then started... talking.  Fuck!  What the hell was he saying.  I realized I was backing away from him as if distance might help, maybe a little bit in fright or shock.  Were my ears going bad?  Was I still asleep?  Was this a dream?  Something, about strangers, I think.  And I heard "long time".  He didn't seem angry, or threatening.  After a short bit he stopped talking at me.  I knew it was English, but for the life of me I couldn't understand more than a few words.  He asked, a bit slower, if I wanted some coffee, I think.  I nodded.  He signaled for me to stay put and brought out a carafe of coffee, cream I think, some sugar, and a couple of mugs, setting that all on a small table near my chosen rocker.  He grabbed a chair and pulled it over, signaling me to take a seat.

As I was waking I remember who he reminded me of... Boomhauer!  I wouldn't have believed anyone talked like that in real life.  As I started waking up, and thinking about what he had said, in this context, some of it was almost seeming to come together and make some sense.  Something about not having many people out this way, asking if he could help maybe, and the rest of it was just gone.  He already made his coffee, so I got busy.  Oh, the package, I got up quickly, surprising him this time, then nearly ran to my vehicle.  Okay, now he looked a bit nervous and was watching me pretty closely.  I signed that everything was okay, and shouted that I had a package from Glen.  He seemed to ease up a bit, if he was still a bit tight, ready.

As I was returning with the packages, actually four of them, some of them with some heft, I looked... probably John?... over.  He was a shorter man, maybe 5'2"-4", in his mid-thirties, and would pass as a punk rocker from back in the day with his short but very defined yellow(?) mohawk and all.  Or was he naturally bright golden blond?  He didn't seem to have piercings or tattoos that I could see.  Nor was he dressed in alt garb.  Out here?  Looking like Billy Idol, talking like Boomhauer, what a kick I thought.

...

Later.

Still feeling it.

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While I am not on track, strictly speaking, I am moving along anyway.  I gathered all of the laundry I could find, which wasn't much.  But along with what I have in the washroom, I have about three loads to wash.  I had a load in the dryer, so I gave that a warm spin and it is in the living room in a basket, waiting to be folded.  I gave the area I had patched in this room a first coat of paint.  The mudding was very good, well blended and even.  Somewhere in there I set the coffee pot to work, then set the dishes to a fresh hot soak.  After that I headed to the back door.  I wasn't sure how messy or involved that job would be.  As it turns out it was as simple as hand-unscrewing the old spring-rod whole, grabbing a philips and screwing a plate for the new one in, then twisting the new spring-rod into place.  I then began the mudding process for the dings there, if I did decide to sand the area just a bit first which ended up being a really good call.  I did check first, and the new spring-rod keeps the door in check.  Now I just need to do a bit of folding while waiting for the mud and paint to dry.  I may need another coat of paint in this room, but I will definitely need another two or three rounds of mud near the back door.

Yeah, little things, but... very needed.  I have learned a very larger amount in just figuring out these small tasks, too.  Even if you read, somewhere, anywhere, how to do something, until you put your hands to it you really don't know what the tasks truly involve.  These are easy tasks.  But they also aren't well learned by reading.  Further, the tools described for many jobs... sometimes they suggest things you will never need or use, sometimes they don't suggest tools, techniques, or consumables that would work better or might be needed.  Oh, I held off painting the back ceiling.  I will do that at the same time I paint the back entry door wall patch, as they are the same color.  I don't want to have to wash the paint brush an extra time.

Oh, I had best try to find the number for the barber.  I am not sure how busy he is.  I am hoping an early afternoon double spot might be open.  One can never tell how busy a barber shop will be at any given time.  Even good ones have rush hours, days, weeks, and months.

Get to it, damn it.  We haven't got all day!  Bleh...  Something to eat first...  Later.

Youch!

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Waking up was absolute murder this morning.  I feel like I was filleted.  Yesterday was rough, too, if I thought that had to do with food.  I am not so sure at this point.  I may simply be feeling some push-back from my advances, or the weather is starting to close on me, the cold in particular, or... something.  I didn't end up doubling up medicine, fully, yesterday.  So, that probably wasn't it.  And besides, I was feeling it before that.  I may simply need to take a few days off this week, let my body heal and rest, and hit it again Monday.

My minor man-boobs have been changing though.  I can see it in the mirror, and by touch.  Not that they were real man-boobs, just it wasn't a proper chest with the extra fat.  Now it is turning into a small man's muscular chest.  The fat is going, the muscle is expanding, if visually it still isn't right, by touch it is definitely getting there.  Still, after two weeks and a day of swimming I am really enjoying it.  My whole body is tightening, slimming just a bit.  I didn't think swimming would help with my mid-section, but I may be seriously incorrect about that.  How that works, I couldn't say, though breathing may be a part of it, and somehow the arm strokes, and even kicking, are pulling on the midsection, perhaps?  I am loving the results, even if I may need to take a break.  I will probably go in Wednesday, if I can get an appointment for two at the barber.  It's no loss if I really am shot and have to back out.  If this is just a short difficulty, though, and I can work right over it, I might?

Sleep!  I needed it and got it.  It was so chock full of dreams, if I can't remember a single one, I can remember bits of what seems like 20 dreams.  I had a heck of a time getting out bed this morning too, sleeping right through the alarm until about 8:30.  The alarm caused a spasm of about five or ten of the dreams just in that time, I think.  At least now that I am awake, I am actually awake.  I am certain my body is at a shifting-gears point, and might need a break.  But the other part of it may have been my added Sunday scheduling and getting to some things Saturday.  I just don't know.  As I have said, while I am doing much more to include exercise, I am still extremely limited compared to an average guy.  I honestly couldn't put a day of work in for more than a few days without hitting serious problems.  I am expanding what I can do, but what I started with was little more than... taking a shower and getting dressed.  I... have a ways to go.

Today?  I have no clue.  If I am up to things, I will probably go ahead and do what I can.  A bit of painting, the back door stopper if I can find them and then mudding on the adjacent wall, dishes, and maybe laundry.  I am still waking up though, especially after the late rise.  Ugh!  I do feel like I've been working, if not too hard.  I am not, actually, worn out, either.  I simply feel about workouts as I would about a good meal.  I am... physically fitness-wise... full?  Something like that.  Actually, I think that is it, spot-on.  I feel like I have stretched and expanded as much as I feel able to do, for now.  Perhaps I will take the week off, from workouts, and begin trying to use the time to simply hit my task list.  Restarting next Monday.  We will see when Wednesday rolls around, or whenever I can schedule a couple of spots in the barber chair.

Good morning, by the way.

Lesson learned, breakfast it is.

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Swimming was murder today.  I did get showered and dressed and to Mass first, but then forgot my gym back and had to drive back home to get it.  I was already quite hungry, and getting my gym bag added time before lunch.  I had little energy to swim.  I was choking on each half lap, not even being able to kick out a full lap.  And I certainly didn't stick around to get on the pedals.  Not good.  Further, I do believe I will be figuring out a breakfast for every morning, as I can, from now on.  Oatmeal, Cream of Wheat, cracked wheat, and an egg or some other protein, perhaps with toast or a bagel.  I absolutely have to have something.  And it's not like I have nothing to improvise with.  Even a bowl of chili or cold pizza I was gifted on my way home would have been better than nothing.  Live and learn... or remember?

On the way home I did stop to eat.  I received one approving look from a sharp looking older woman, with probably her grandson.  I almost got a feeling like she was going to reach out and... adjust my shirt, as she would approvingly to a son, as he was heading out the door to the prom after she had properly set him to rights.  As I was eating, I happened to look up just at the right time and caught a mother, I had seen her enter and take her children back to the playroom, looking at me rather approvingly.  While neither of them were, say, interested...  and rightly so...  I did like the approval.  Yes, clean shaven.  I was dressed for Mass, still, of course.  So, yeah.  But still.  That is the reaction from those type of women I am looking for, exactly.  Unless of course they are having flashbacks to some favored crooner.  Ugh!  One never, for sure, can know what a woman is thinking.  Two general approvals in a row, however, from the right types?

Not too much else will happen today.  A couple of missionaries will be visiting today.  And dinner will be arriving before long.  The incoming food, actually, is about a third of what is sustaining my efforts, in the temporal manner.  Medicine and sheer will on some days are the other two things.  While I don't believe in the "village theory", I also believe no man is an island, although some of us can be dense as a rock.

Tomorrow?  I hope to figure out a door-stop for the back door, begin mudding the wall it has damaged, paint where needed, and finish laundry and dishes.  I drain the dishes, now, when I end up not washing them.  There are no more than ten things to wash, including three pieces of stainless utensils... what's my problem!  Some things simply never change.  Bah!  I'll... get them... eventually... probably tomorrow... probably.  Oh, and I might call the local barber.  My favorite gal has not called.  Either she couldn't find local work or she isn't interested.  Both my friend and myself need a trim, badly.  So...  My friend's friend suggested a barber.  I'll try to arrange for two haircuts Wednesday, if not then for Friday or next Monday, unless Monday is his off day?  Hmm, I better boil a dozen eggs while I am at it, too.  If I think I want to start doing that on the weekends, so that Friday is my dinner out day, as a reward, and so I don't have to see eggs as all I get for the rest of the week.  I need something to look forward to at the end of the week, and even a fast food meal will do.

Well, that's that.  Later.

Burning Man snobbery?

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As I wake, and run through my cycles, checking email is part of the run.  Two things regarding running man showed up in my in-box.  The first was quite fun to deal with.  Perhaps I shouldn't 'encourage the lad', especially after a bit of sipping.  But actually, stone cold sober for my part, I see... the possibilities.  It is most enjoyable discussing this event.  Hmm, this will be the first... planned in advance... event I have ever attended in my life.  The parties I discussed were often spur of the moment and I was simply picked up if I was available and interested (almost always the latter).  I have not even been to a rock concert.  Weird, I know, but... yeah.

The other email could have gotten under my skin.  Thankfully I am awake enough to have grabbed snark, anger, and such, and set them aside in order to deal with the situation, I think, more fruitfully, for my part.  As I wrote, however, what they decide is no skin off my nose.  I had attempted to join a local network of people who have and are planning to go to Burning Man, people here in Utah.  My email had been return, seemingly rejected.  I left it there.  Then, this morning, I get another rejection mail as follows:

Your request to the utah-announce mailing list

    Subscription request

has been rejected by the list moderator.  The moderator gave the
following reason for rejecting your request:

"Who are you and why do you want to be a part of us?"

Any questions or comments should be directed to the list administrator
at:

My response follows:

I am going to Burning Man this year, as a first timer.  And, I don't know that I do want to be a part of your group, or any other group.  I don't know you yet.  Still, the only way to find out is to join and see for myself.  As to who I am, well... I'm me?  More would be too much without context, if I doubt I could offer less.  As I don't know you, you can't know me, without... some association.  But that is quite up to you.  No skin off my nose, either way.  Good day.

Hrumph!  Your father was a hamster and your mother smelled of elderrrrrberries!  Ah, but I so enjoy such.  It is more fun than any threat to my need for collectivism, for I have no such need. Well, okay, that might be... pushing it a bit.  Change out love and put in groupthink, collectivism, herd-mentality, etc.  But... it tain't too far off the track, push come to shove.

Teh who?

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Though my phone, usually off when I sleep but too tired to mess with it last night, was on mute, the vibe is usually on and I heard that this morning.  Thankfully, I don't think it was plugged in, either.  What time was it?  No clue, couldn't focus, had to answer.  A good little fumble and jumble and...  Oh, hi mom!  Oh, I thought you would be up already.  No she didn't...  wait... she is a woman...  I won't blame it on that, either, though.  It is early, and her math skills may not have been up to par, thinking it was an hour later here?  Even I jumble that from time to time, at certain times.  Never mind, I didn't mind the early call.  When you sleep more regularly, an occasional interruption is quite easy to manage. She just wanted to say hello and talk to me before she got going, she suggested.  I think she did it to get a word in edge-wise, come to think of it!  A simple conversation and hoping I had a good week was the gist of it, I believe.  All good.  Back to sleep until the alarm, at 7:00, but it was easy to get up then.  So, no problems there, mom!

I didn't get to bed until after 23:00, almost midnight I think.  No matter, I simply cannot just go to bed after a more involved day.  My mind needs time to... register everything, think about things, remember, take notes.  Sleep was quite good though, when it happened.  No rolling, no thinking, no dreams, just a dark curtain drawn and down the sleep hole, at speed.  Waking was easy and good as well.  Gosh but I like nights like that!

Today?  What is today?  Monday?  Yep.  Okies, a shower, perhaps another shave (I look much better, as I trim, clean shaven, something I wondered about and had sort of rewarded yesterday).  Actually clean shaven or with up to a few days stubble are what look best on me, but I had been wearing well-worn scruff that needed to be tended.  Mass, at noon, then swimming?  Yep.  That is the plan.  And while I would like to do a few things this morning, I really don't see much happening, honestly, until 10:00 and a shower.

I forgot to reset my medicines yesterday and so didn't take medicines yesterday.  I will make up for that, though.  I know, I know, but I am dead set on taking every last one of those stinking pills, one way or another.  And, I seem to handle it well.  I am dead set on giving my heart the break it needs in order to repair.  Further, they have tried to get me to double up most of my pills, I simply haven't been able to do so for longer periods.  So doing so in the short run isn't a unmitigated risk.  Plus, I am maintaining function well enough when I do so.  I did reset them this morning and took medicine for last night and this morning.  This evening I will take the medicine for yesterday morning and this evening.  Gulp!  Bleh.  I have my daily vitamins and magnesium back in stock, too, finally.

Life isn't about being on top of everything, you can't do it.  It is about being on top of the prime things, for your part, and keeping up on the rest in as reasonable of a time frame as possible.  Well, and juggling what is most vital from time to time, with oddities coming your way at any moment.  Life, simply put, is impossible to... manage fully, wholly, and as you would have it.  Part of the draw of sciences and math is that, even if you can't solve the problem, or at least right at first, you know or can usually pretty quickly find exactly what it is.  Life isn't that easy.  Often you don't know you have a problem, or what the problem might be, so finding a solution for something that might be a mood, simple unregistered to the mind indigestion, or a misunderstanding, on your or someone else's part, is silly.  So be it.  I'm in it for life, though!

Hmm, on to some waking music and goofing.  Good day.

What a great Sunday!

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I was running just a wee late, by my time target.  I left home shortly after noon.  About halfway to town my friend called.  It seems the game was already on.  But, no problems there.  He asked if I could grab a lunch at McDonalds?  Sure, I hadn't brought anything but a six pack and a few sodas to detox before helping with the dinner.  I stopped at the grocery store first.  My budget, it was hoped, was $60.  I went to a store I don't usually shop at, but know.  They have a larger salad selection, if my memory served.  I was hoping to afford ten bags of salad and eight salad dressings.  Okay, yeah, well... honestly I knew that was going to be tight.  If I can't really afford it this month, I just promised that anything over $60 was on my nickle.  Yikes!  At the store I couldn't believe my eyes... the bags of salad were 3/$5!  Normally they are around $6 per.  I was easily able to get 15 bags (for 60 people?  I was already getting more than suggested, but I think the suggestion was incorrect), and six normal and one mongo bottle of salad dressing, some of which were on a serious sale as well, at a total cost of $43 and change!  Hey, sometimes it happens.  And it was the "right" salad mix, including romaine, carrots in some, and various other real lettuce and spinach too I believe.  I know some people love iceberg lettuce, but that is only water.  Hmm, it seems my last lady love did learn me a thing or two?  *smile*  And I learned.

A drive through McDonalds, then to my friends.  He was outside waiting, so I let him carry the lunch while I grabbed the *shhh, neighbor ladies might be listening* beer (it was in a cooler, it seems they think they have to sneak a drink, and maybe they do?).  I thought about bringing the bags of lettuce in, but it was sunny, my vehicle was plenty warm and buttoned up, and the sun was shining.  We ending up watching the rest of that one game, then most of another, before I had to go.  About halfway to Church I received a call suggesting how best to get into the lower part of the Church.  What is it with people calling me on the road?  :p

There were plenty of us to set up, arrange, and have things ready for the college students.  Being as cold as it was, it seems attendance was suppressed a bit.  Still, that meant plenty for all.  And, it probably is good there were fewer people.  Everyone really was able to eat a full meal, go back for seconds, and there was still let-overs (much of which were left for the college kids that live there at the Church).  Cleanup was much quicker and easier than anticipated.  One of the wives was there to help.  And, while I sometimes like things just for guys?  She was a great help.  Simply... all of us guys there are somewhat... domesticity challenged.  She just had an idea of where things might be and such, and gave a few orders (unthinking commands that women are wont to do, nothing bad) on some issues that functioned well.  I teased her about her giving me flashbacks from when my mom was here, then laughed.  I think she took it well... but she is a woman and women rarely have any sort of a sense for male humor.  Her husband got a chuckled, nervously?  I think she just looked a little confused?  Something.  Yep, she was appreciated, in my book.

I was back at home by 20:30, at the latest.  Nice, really nice.  All of it was rather fun.  I am actually looking forward to the Lenten dinners, I have told my friend to get ready for a Superbowl party at his house, and to see if his other friend wants to join.  Up to him, but yeah.  I can't believe how... easy... life is becoming.  I'm still a domestic 'tard, but that has to do with my loin "deficiency", something I will keep though, thank you!

Tomorrow, swimming.  I ate the eggs I "forgot" to take Friday, so I'll be "forced" to eat out again tomorrow.  But I will be boiling eggs for the rest of the week.  If nothing else, affordability is a factor.  But seriously, eggs are simply far better for what I need and want.  I figure one meal a week of fast food is just fine, calorie, fat, cost wise.  Eggs will do for the rest.  And, yes, for what it is worth, I will be getting on the stationary bike, again, as humbling as that is, after my swim.  This week I will continue to work on my kick-off, water 'balance', and *ugh* bilateral breathing.

Good night.  I'm hoping to finish up the dream-story tomorrow.  Yeah, I remember it still.  Usually if a dream stays past waking and into the day well, it is there like a story for as long as I keep thinking on it.  Sleep well.

A long day ahead.

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Okay, so...  Let me think.  I did get to bed by 22:30, and I woke at 7:03.  I don't hit snooze, or turn off the alarm until I rise, so times can and usually are odd.  I needed the sleep though.  Anyway, back to today.  I will be going to town, and actually be IN TOWN from around noon until whenever the meal is finished and we clean up.  The meal starts at 18:45, I believe, and runs until?  Hmm, 60 people of college age... It depends on seating.  My guess is there will be plenty of seating, and college kids with only pizza and salad and a drink probably snatch and sit to eat pretty quickly.  Still, two hours would probably see to feeding and clean up, so lets just say from noon to 22:00?  All good, at least I don't have a long drive back.  Anything before that?  Oh, the instructions for the camera!  I would like to find that, so that part of the project is finished.  If I can get that taken care of quickly, then I might get to fixing the back door so that it doesn't bang into the wall, then mudding that at least once, painting this front area if the mud looks good enough, and of course I have to fit a shower and I ought to shave as well.  As it turns out I won't be going to Mass, as I need to be down helping with set-up just after Mass is set to start.  Well... I try, and what works works, what doesn't doesn't.

Oh, I thought I would add a bit of technical "how to" to the blog today.  This is how to witness a violent crime.  No, a Mercedes is not required, or even necessarily helpful.  Sidearms, on the other hand, are required.  Mixing and stirring, backing at the temperature of a fired bullet or three, and you end up with law, order, and justice.  It makes for a wonderful brunch, though really, the meal works at any time of day or night.  It is a favored among victims, law abiding citizens, many officers of the law, although the criminally minded, egalitarian, and some other such types seem to be allergic to this meal.  This also serves... most.  :p
h/t Ace of Spades HQ

Gah!  I'm going to have to actually, you know, move... in the morning hours... if I want any of this to happen!  Why couldn't I just be a gerbil, or cat, or dog?  I truly hate mornings, in a way.  I love being awake in them, now.  I just don't like to have to actually... do something at this time of day.  It's probably even unhealthy!  Why, even in sex, you never hear of a mid-morning'er.  They start at nooners and move on from there, innit?

Good morning.  Where is my coffee?  Oh, right, I don't have coffeemate yet.

A proper weekend day.

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That's how I am seeing it.  I sanded and gave a first coat of paint to the light area in the back.  It does look, however, like I will need to paint again back there.  The mud in some areas just didn't take to that first coat.  I probably should have sanded, again, with a higher grit?  No, I think paint would stick better to the rougher surface.  The mud might just have, for whatever reason, soaked in more paint in a few spots.  As well, I have the spots near the front door mudded.  I had to do that three or four times, and wait for it to dry between, but I do believe it is done.  There were a few other things I did as well, plus I cleaned off the mud scrapers and the paint brush for use next time.  And, finally, I called my friend.  The game he had discussed... is on tonight.  Ah well.  I asked if there was anything on tomorrow, and if so would he want someone to watch it with.  Oh, well, that might be good, he thought.  The elder lad has a special type of enthusiasm.  :p  So, I need to be showered and heading out the door by noon, perhaps 11:30.  I need to do some shopping first.  Hmm... ten bags of lettuce mix?  My friend's refrigerator is usually pretty sparse, but that is a lot of salad.  It would freeze in the vehicle, over a five hour period, though.  The salad dressing I am not so worried about.  Hmm...  I will figure something out.

Reading Prayer and the Contemplative Life continues apace.  At least the questions are becoming more pertinent to my interest and actual applications.  The last few have regarded prayer, what to pray about, how saints and angels (and Mary really) are involved with prayer if I thought and correctly that I had this area pretty well down.  And, while the conflicting notions, when the whole question is otherwise foreign or new or technical, can be confusing, in the cases where I have some basic understandings, the contrarian thoughts actually help me see where I have gotten some of the notions I have or have held, and possibly from whom.  In these areas I truly enjoy the reading.  Well, I do enjoy the rest of the reading, it is more that I have nothing concrete to bring to that part of the ball game.

As well, a round of discussion about Burning Man between the chief and myself has been occuring.  They have an email flier, which I had forgotten to sign up to receive, which he forwarded with a question or thought or such.  The discussions began with that, then went on to other details.  Have you ever heard two brothers, excited about going to the fair this summer, discussing which rides first, what food stands to hit, if the girls were going to be nice or at least whether they would have pig-tails or a pony tail by which to get their attention, and such?  Yeah?  Well, okay, nuff said.

While the weekend is just whizzing by, at least I feel like I am doing something this time.  I am feeling it, from swimming.  My shoulders, as I am even becoming able to really reach out there, are just a tad sore.  And, bodily, I am a bit weary.  It's not too bad, on any front.  It is in line with what I actually want it to be.  But I do need these weekends off, now.  The little bits of work I am doing are just fine, and keep me up on things I had been slowing down with.  All very good.

 The Rooster of the Heights, continued...

All packed in, save for three of the five gallon water jugs, I began sorting and storing gear.  Finding my flashlight by which to set up the oil lanterns and light a small fire for the night was immediately necessary.  I could, probably, have done it in the near dark of dusk, having done it so often now.  The risk of burning down the cabin didn't seem worth the chance.  Once everything was sorted, stowed, and the day was truly over outside and in, I decided to... think.

I first got out a bottle of my fine $20 whiskey.  I had three bottles, just in case.  It was as good as I could afford, and then some, really.  Ah well, the price kept me to the realm of the reals while drinking it.  With the fire lit and the whiskey poured, I looked over the fly kit, then the gift certificate, and finally to the note.  Good friends is all I could think.  After that I began to think about the road.  I had my laptop, of course, but no internet.  Wait, actually...  I wonder if my sat-phone could link up out here?  My boss had expensed that for me just a year and a half ago, with trips into the desert and mountains being common and cell phone coverage being irregular to nonexistent, and deadlines being what they were.  Why the road?  A bit of searching found no information regarding the road.  GoogleEarth didn't even seem to show what I had just driven over.  Then again, do they really update as often as they suggest, especially in remote areas?  Are they subject to government... suggestion?  Could there be some sort of secret military base out here?  Ah, but this wasn't something I was going to figure out or investigate for the paper.  Not my area.  Just curious.  Back to the whiskey and the fire.

As I woke to the cold, I couldn't figure out why I was so cold.  The furnace must be out, off, or too low.  Perhaps a window broke?  Getting up I realized the furnace wasn't ever going to kick in, well, until I put the wood into it and then lit that.  Getting into warm morning clothes, then getting the fireplace going, then lighting the small cook stove, finally saw me returning to rightness.  Coffee, first thing.  My mouth was dry and that awful stale whiskey breath taste was enough for me to be begging the coffee to hurry.  A few slices of bacon and a few eggs from the cooler into the pan saw to a reasonable start.  Realizing I hadn't set up the shower so that would not be happening, and a cup of coffee, got me started toward what would be my day.

I grabbed my day kit, the fishing kit, the gift certificate, and headed back to town.  Glen.  A quick glance at the time on the dash and a bit of figuring made me almost certain I could be on the river by 11:00, noon tops.  At the store I asked for Glen.  He still owned, and ran, the store.  He was in town, probably Salt Lake, getting supplies and running a few errands.  The young woman checker, however, suggested what she had seen most of the men buying this last week.  Not wanting to use my certificate on a few pieces, and uncertain information, I simply bought several of each of the types suggested.  Leaving a note for Glen wouldn't really help, and he was supposed to be back later or at least by tomorrow.

As I had hoped I was on the water by 11:05.  I simply... started fishing.  By noonthirty I had caught my limit, if I had only kept one fish so far.  A fine rainbow, not too small, not too big.  Cleaned, filled with grass, and put in the basket.  I had heard about trout sashimi, it just wasn't quite my thing.  A small break at 3:17, for a bite to eat.  Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.  My usual fishing fair, the only time of the year I allowed my child side to choose my cuisine.  That and a coke I had snagged in town.  Another hour of fishing, one more perfect trout, another rainbow, in the basket, and looking forward to a few more hours on the water when something came crashing toward me on the far side of the river.

Whatever it was it must have been massive.  It seemed to be coming right toward the water, and really, directly toward me.  There was simply too much undergrowth, too many trees, to get a view.  It was some distance away, a hundred yards and closing?  I saw small trees go over, some of which didn't seem to pop back?  Had an elephant escaped the zoo?  My heart was beginning to pick up the pace.  I felt a bit cool as I gathered my things and started backing toward my vehicle.  At first I was moving so seemingly slowly, but as the... creature... approached, I picked up speed.  By the time it was within 50 yards I was packed, engine lit, and driving down the road.  But, which direction was I heading, where did I want to go, what should I do?  A thousand other thoughts and questions all clamoring for answers or consideration.

As it turned out I was driving deeper into the valley.  I had hit the accelerator, but kept checking my rear-view mirror to see if anything appeared even when it would have been impossible to see anything at the point I had been fishing.  What the hell was that?  A bear?  An elephant?  Should I drive to town and ask?  I had my .357 at the cabin.  Would that even wound such a beast?  I wasn't as desperate as I had been on the road on the way in, but I was shaken and upset again.  Again, I thought, as if an echo was needed.  Someone in town would have heard something, unless it really was an escaped elephant or tiger or such.  I really didn't want to slow down, nor did I want to drive back past the spot.  Something had really spooked me.  The speed, the size, the sound, the trees, all of it.  I realized I had to turn around!  The valley dead-ended and I was beyond the turn off for the cabin.  Fuck.

The drive back to town was without incident.  While I didn't mean to, I did slow as I passed my fishing spot, scanning for... anything.  A large animal, prints, downed trees, trampled scrub.  I then wondered if it had crossed the road and about shit myself while spinning my head like a frightened kid checking under the bed.  Nothing, no sign.  What a trip!  I sped up for the rest of the drive, cautiously, jumping at nothing from time to time.  The growth on the sides of the road, something I hadn't noticed coming in, would make for easily hiding a large predator.   I had to stop this nonsense, and keep my head on clear.  I drove right by the cabin turn off, and my pistol.  Then again, as I had wondered, would such a caliber even hurt a large beast?  I bought it for... bravado?  I had only shot it a few times.  It went on fishing trips, otherwise collecting dust.  It was the only gun I knew about and all I knew about guns.

Where to stop?  The station?  No.  I had worked with he man before if I didn't really know him.  I didn't really want to open up about this at the diner, either.  Glen!  He would know.  He fished that stream several hours just about every day of the week.  He spoke with the local and tourist fisherman.  He would know if anybody would.  What time was it?  I had a hard time focusing, first looking at the dash but not seeing it then feinting to my watch, and back, before I realized I was in a state, calmed myself a bit, and looked cleanly at the dash.  Was it really already 7:30?  I think the store was open until 8:00.  If Glen was going to be back today, he would be back.  The store was locked.  A sign on the door indicated the cashier would be back in 30 minutes but closing time was in 30 minutes.  I waited, just in case.  No one returned in an hour, and just as I was thinking of going to the diner for a little company to sooth my nerves, I saw the waitress... Janice, was it... stepping out of the front door, locking up behind her.  Damn.  Plus a dark drive to the cabin.

Well, we are getting there.

Good night.

A bit of work, now some waiting.

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The sun is out, the curtains all about are opened, and the mountains are a wondrous sight.  There is just enough snow on the drive from yesterday to be irritating to my notions but not enough to do anything about.  While it means no sweeping, it does induce some moaning and groaning.  I thought about what task to do first, and decided that a bowl of chili would top the list!  That is simply good chili.  I love the taste of beans and meat, and the heat is perfect in accentuating the brew.  I worried that the chili would slow me down, or even stop work.  No such luck.

I decided that sanding the ceiling would be the next most logical step.  Some of what I had already painted would have to be sanded.  And an area I had just patched could use it as well.  I started with 60 grit.  That took the vast majority of excess and mud-ugly off without a hitch.  I then stopped at 60 grit.  Good enough, and it is.  I suppose I could hove tried to make the ceiling perfectly flat, but I worried about other problems from trying, so I left it at "really good".  I then painted.  The paint match, by the way, at least for that area, is spot-on.  It looks to have been painted with either a roller by a perfectionist or by a condensed air sprayer.  I have been using a simple 3" brush, but taking my time, cross sectioning it, feathering, and such, so that when it dries the brush strokes, to my eyes, are almost invisible.  After the first coat there, I decided to mud the patch by the front door.  I am simply waiting, now, for that and the paint to dry.  If my last painting session is any good as an example, I probably won't need a second coat.

I also looked over my back door.  I have having problems, it seems, with that door hitting the wall as well.  The spring-rod door catcher at the bottom of the wall has failed, having lost the rubber stopper.  I have a couple of door catchers remaining.  I will, eventually, see to that as well.  It looks like the paint in the back hallway is the same paint used on the back ceiling in the washroom, so I should be good that way.  Oh, and I did put a load of dishes to soak, if I haven't quite gotten to the wash yet.  Still, I am pleased with the progress so far.

Back to the dream...

The Rooster of the Heights, continued...

Finishing my meal, leaving a tip of some note if to an odd reception, I left the diner.  Getting into my rig, I considered what to do next.  I wouldn't need anything, food or otherwise, from the general store, having packed for seclusion and to save pennies, and my tank was still three quarters full, while the sun was beginning to head to it's rest, I decided to just head to the cabin, unpack, and settle in... with a few shots of whiskey.  What a drive!

The cabin belonged to my first editor in chief from the last place I wrote.  The paper had been bought out and then the works had been transferred, to some odd place.  We had all been bought out, if on a nickle.  Philip was ready for retirement, so it was no skin off his nose.  I found a job rather quickly, though, with his help.  Having worked there from right out of college, for a bit more than a decade, as the star reporter in the end, I had come to know him well.  When he knew I was pretty beat, and knew what my budget could afford as to a vacation, he opened his cabin to me.  Keys are under the mat, is what he would say when it was time for me to take off.  The third year, returning looking a bit too plump for his eyes, he said nothing.  The disapproving look on his face, though, was sure.  The following summer, when I got to the cabin, I found a couple of fly-fishing rods, a fly fishing video, and a gift-certificate, hand written, for the local store.  A note suggested that I speak with Glen, the owner of the store, about which flies to purchase, as he fished himself and would know what is working, it said.  The advice that I not sit out my week was clear.  I hadn't talked to Phil in... three years?  I honestly wasn't sure if the old codger was still alive.  A quick call and the familiar... "The key is under the mat".  No need to tell me twice.  He was a man of fewer words than were necessary, usually, so it was never an issue with him.

The cabin, itself, was a  few and a half miles further into the valley, then up the side of a mountain.The drive was easy, unless the valley had changed as much as the drive in?  Fear crept in, and I found myself in a mild sweat at the notion.  I was still disoriented from the road.  I couldn't believe a road could even be made at such steep inclines.  What had they used to pave, an airplane?  I drove out of town, past the garage.  About a mile outside of town the road returned to the road I remembered, a graveled dirt almost two lane road, heading on back into the valley.  Well before the sun went down I found myself up the north slope, off in it's own section of land surrounded by some sort of government owned land, at the familiar cabin.  A miner's claim, kept by a family member, sold multiple times, having the taxes kept current, made the plot available to Philip when he had been my age... when being a reporter paid a bit better or when land was cheaper.

I prepped my gear and food for a fast pull and unload, not wanting to mess with the cold of the night or the dark.  Grabbing the first of what I suspected would be three loads not including water, I headed toward the cabin.  The key, as always, was under the... you guessed it.  I entered, took my gear to the smaller of the two main-floor rooms, I noticed something on the table.  Setting my gear in it's place in the room, I hurried to the table.  Something long and thin, wrapped and with a bow, plus a card.  My first thought was that Philip had a friend in the area who had left something for him, I was about to head out for the rest of my gear when I decided to look at the card.  It was addressed to me.  I decided to get the rest of my gear in first, again with trying to beat the night, but I burned with curiosity.  Upon getting the last of my gear, and one of the five gallon jugs of water in, I went straight to the table again.  "I doubted you remembered.  Philip" was all the card said, plus another hand written gift certificate for the local store.  A fly fishing rod, and a very good quality one was in the package.  I had to grin, then I wondered if Glen was still around.  He certainly did know what was catching fish.

...more later...  It's actually fun to write out the memory of the dream.  This isn't even close to the meat, but I'm getting there.  No, I'm not ad-libbing a bit.  My dreams are rather... detailed.  Later.