Well, I had a sip last night. Actually, I was full into my cup. I suppose, and no fouls were performed, except against my brain cells. Life has been so slow lately, that at least it was something. No, slow life is not an ‘excuse’ nor a reason, it just happens to coincide with the incident. I do not even have a headache this morning.
I have not, been doing much lately. The neighbors seem to be moved in and settled. They are younger, but that should be fine. I started the lawn yesterday, and did it the way I had been thinking. I cut half of it, at an angle. Monday or Tuesday I will cut across that, then I will begin taking turns mowing the lawn with my neighbor. I see with bumps caused by this and that, the slight hills and valleys on the lawn, my angles are not great. There are some rows, too, which are wider and some that are narrower. I am hoping that over time, this will even out, both as the rest of the lawn eventually gets mowed and as I get better at doing this.
My Mom says she will be coming up in August. I will be glad to see her. I will not be able to go all out for her, yet she will not go away hungry, or have any unmet need. Food, too, should be good. Beyond that, not much is happening or going to happen in the near future. Summers seem just as bad as winters, no one wants to do a thing.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
A time to remember.
Do you want to know. In a previous post, so hidden by the mundane, I let you have a taste. However, here, you should find the truth. Before you click, be sure you wish to know. Once again, take notice. Do not go here if you are afraid of the truth. I know what lives under my skin. Do you?
A time for silly notions, I suppose.
A time for silly notions, I suppose.
Friday, July 20, 2007
What is it with clothiers?
Land’s End had a neat new service. They have enough clothes that fit well enough, and occasionally I buy a shirt or two, chinos, or something else if their offering looks better and is priced better than, say, Eddie Bauer’s or that other one. I am looking at a pair of tendals (tennis shoe sandal mutt, $39, not too bad). The service allows one to create a virtual model, so as to virtually try on clothes, get the best fit recommendation, and see how things might look together. That last must be for women, because honestly, I just wear it if I like it and put it with whatever. If it looks too ridiculous, I either change or begin to enjoy that. Anyway, so I go to put in my numbers. There seems to be some difficulty. First, I tinker around to get my known size to work with the model. There are still some problems, but I think I am making progress. I do it this way and that. It ends up, they cannot do my size. I can wear their middling clothes, yet they cannot render me in their machine. At 6’4”, 300, with a 52” chest, 40” waste, and a 34” inseam, with a fatty muscular build, they cannot render my model. I even tried to handicap them 20 pounds. No go. Blarney, I say. And, I do not care, that is NOT that big. It is odd too, though I have never been able to squeeze my chest measurement below a 52”, I only wear an extra large tall, not double (or more) as most manufacturers recommend. There are a lot of tweaks with my size compared to my measurements along those lines, measurements seem to mean nothing practical regarding sizing. I thought I was doing the measurements wrong, so I had my mom, and my gal pal do them, they are right on or we are all wrong. I think they are just trying to play with my head. Once again, blarney!
No Doom rendering, urhm, other than the game and my cartoon. Ah well, the model just did not quite capture my nature anyway. I am a little, well, different would put it best. Ha!
Oh, I have been meaning to ask you bloggers: Have you all died or something? Get off it, or if you are off it, get back on it. Sheesh. Then again, maybe you all quit. Dunno. Just thought I would give you a boost if it is temporary.
No Doom rendering, urhm, other than the game and my cartoon. Ah well, the model just did not quite capture my nature anyway. I am a little, well, different would put it best. Ha!
Oh, I have been meaning to ask you bloggers: Have you all died or something? Get off it, or if you are off it, get back on it. Sheesh. Then again, maybe you all quit. Dunno. Just thought I would give you a boost if it is temporary.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Sleep deprivation is such a wonderful thing. Nap time I think you will agree.
I decided to mess around in the kitchen, though I did not get to doing another batch of bread. I did, however, concoct a version of garam masala that I can live with. I combined: black pepper, freshly ground; dried chiles, crushed; a mix of 1:1 cinnamon and allspice; cloves, crushed; the hottest cayenne pepper I can find; and cumin. Each of these were about equal in proportion, except the cayenne pepper, which was added at 1/3 comparative strength to allow a particular friend to have a chance to at least try it. I will tell her she should not try it, it is not for her delicate nature, and most likely she will. Otherwise, she would not, or, not while I am around and therefore not comment on it (since it would then be a theft and a moral thing). I then fried some ground chuck, added some of the remaining bean and rice mix, and heated the last into the fried ground chuck. I added half of the garam masala to the ground chuck as it was frying and half to the completed mix as it was being heated. I thought to go without salt, but this was far too bland for my taste, so I sprinkled, perhaps, a teaspoon of kosher salt into the final dish. I warmed up three (small) whole wheat tortillas. Along with a glass of milk, and this was just the thing.
The canoeing is off. It has rained, and a good bit, most recently. I do believe the whole camping thing is off. The Queen did indicate something was on the hoof, but neither of us, it is my sincerest belief, have a clue what is being herded into the chute. I thought about a hike, but almost anything outside is going to be muddy, probably quite wet, hot, humid, cold, and just a mess, all mixed and not at all foreseeable as to what is going to be when. So, I am thinking word games and barbed tongues. We usually enjoy jousting, so long as someone female is not having a bad day. Oh, fine, sometimes a guy gets to pouting, though I have no belief that this is a common thing. Not so common as that. A little French press coffee, hot or cold tea, some games, a video rental (King Kong, she says, is good, and there is a horror I want to see, urhm, Predictions is it?), and maybe a bite or two to eat. I went ahead and purchased bone in beef ribs, so we could try that later and have the Indian-Mexican-My food for lunch, with perhaps a salad from the Co-Op. I just do not yet know.
I should take a nap. I know the locust will be by as soon as work lets out, to feast upon my bones, so I should be prepared to repel, or at least greet, the pest. Then again, she might nap before showing, giving me even more time to nap. She will be a bit put out that I am going to the movie with my neighbor this eve, though I think she might be an extra guest if she pouts right. My neighbor knows not my woes with this woman, perhaps he should learn. He loves his wife dearly, but perhaps with such a learning experience, he might further cleave to his wife in absolute horror of the options. Ha! Anyway, and for the nonce, I bid thee ado and anon. Maybe anon and ado would be better. Get thee hie, English!
The canoeing is off. It has rained, and a good bit, most recently. I do believe the whole camping thing is off. The Queen did indicate something was on the hoof, but neither of us, it is my sincerest belief, have a clue what is being herded into the chute. I thought about a hike, but almost anything outside is going to be muddy, probably quite wet, hot, humid, cold, and just a mess, all mixed and not at all foreseeable as to what is going to be when. So, I am thinking word games and barbed tongues. We usually enjoy jousting, so long as someone female is not having a bad day. Oh, fine, sometimes a guy gets to pouting, though I have no belief that this is a common thing. Not so common as that. A little French press coffee, hot or cold tea, some games, a video rental (King Kong, she says, is good, and there is a horror I want to see, urhm, Predictions is it?), and maybe a bite or two to eat. I went ahead and purchased bone in beef ribs, so we could try that later and have the Indian-Mexican-My food for lunch, with perhaps a salad from the Co-Op. I just do not yet know.
I should take a nap. I know the locust will be by as soon as work lets out, to feast upon my bones, so I should be prepared to repel, or at least greet, the pest. Then again, she might nap before showing, giving me even more time to nap. She will be a bit put out that I am going to the movie with my neighbor this eve, though I think she might be an extra guest if she pouts right. My neighbor knows not my woes with this woman, perhaps he should learn. He loves his wife dearly, but perhaps with such a learning experience, he might further cleave to his wife in absolute horror of the options. Ha! Anyway, and for the nonce, I bid thee ado and anon. Maybe anon and ado would be better. Get thee hie, English!
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
The Thought Traveler: A Tale of Mischief, Wonder, and Woe. Part XI
I ask if this loot is all hers, or if she has come by it since the events. “It is all mine, minus a few of the specialty food items.”, she states. You had a pistol? “Yes, I have only shot it a few times. My Dad wanted me to have it since I was living off campus”. I ask if I may, with my eyes, and she nods. I take the piece, drop the magazine, and empty a round from the chamber. She was ready, I am a little surprised she did not have it out when I entered. Perhaps she had it under her, what I now realize was a, woolen cape. It is a 9 millimeter semi-auto. It is a pretty one, actually. It seems clean and new. I am not familiar with the Browning Hi-Power, and ask if she has the manual. She has everything, she answers by showing me. Have you ever cleaned, or broken it down, I ask. “No”. Would you like to learn, I ask? We have nothing but time, sometimes, and it would allow you a little added usefulness. “Yes, that might not be a bad idea”, though she seems a bit hesitant. Look, I will teach you these things, but only if you would use this to defend yourself or me. If not, I will help you get in shape to run. Really, pulling a gun you will not use is not only less than helpful, it might aggravate an already bad situation. Again, she says “Yes”, but I just do not feel well about it. We will see.
She also has a set of two way radios, some survival gear, a length of real climbing rope, and some odds and ends. I ask if she was an adventuring type. It seems not, these are remnants of a boyfriend, he had stored them and just never returned to retrieve these things. I suggest that she will need to learn some things to survive and be helpful. Climbing is an essential trick, especially in the city oddly. The “civil” nature of the area all but leaves the locals unaware that a person can or would go around a corner, toss a rope, shimmy to a hidden height, and have the rope up before they could ever round the corner. Even if found, a pistol is amazingly accurate, and since you are shooting down and only one of them at a time can see you, it’s pretty good odds. Even a crowd of ten scatters when three of their numbers falls in a few seconds.
Well, come with me. I will show you around the cave. “Cave, the first time you said that, I actually thought it was a cave, or at least cave like!”, she laughs. I suggest I call it a cave because I am a troll or ogre or something, or that is how I see it. She just shakes her head a bit and smiles again. I show her the rest of the compartmentalized main room. It is a large round room in which I have placed room screens so as to produce stations or little rooms. There are five areas: the central are is for food consumption, relaxation, games, and such; the first outer area has my communication set up; the next area has my ammunition production, partial weapon storage and cleaning, and all associated tools; then is the general storage area where I keep all dry goods from rope to dry foods to seasonal clothing and bedding; the final area is unused. There is the front foyer, as I call it, for hanging coats, jackets, and dirty or wet clothes, leaving shoes, umbrellas, and hats, and I show her how to stow these things, and were I prefer them. I then take her to the closet in the storage area. In there I keep all functional bedding, towels, and toiletries.
I take her to a real room, through a door, off the supply area, and suggest this is where she may sleep. We enter and there is a decent bed, two dressers, a small closet, a nightstand and lamp, a clothes hamper, and a waste paper basket. We are underground, I tell her though I am sure she suspects. You may freely use the lights, though I prefer to use red lights at night. I show her how the switch is set to facilitate this. I let her know that the whole place is rigged similarly. “Security", she asks? "Or are the red lights tactical or something?”. Ah, no, though technically they preserve night vision. Really, it is just because it was fun to do. It is sort of neat. She chuckles. Do you want an alarm clock, I ask? She has one, so we move on to the other door in this room. Inside is a bathroom, with a bath, separate shower, and all the facilities she should need. I ask what toiletries she might require, including of the feminine varietal. She peels off a list, and I note them on my pad. As we leave these two rooms, I begin looking through the supplies. I find most of what she wishes, a clean extra set of bedding, a few extra blankets, and a teddy bear for her. I hand them over and suggest she stock these where she feels best. When she returns, I go on.
I take her back to the weapons locker. I point to the door behind it and tell her that is my area. I suggest she not go in there. I suggest she not try to do so, whether I am here or not. I do not indicate why this is so, I only indicate that it might not be in her best interest, and I am not lying. Who knows what she is thinking, I only hope she takes this part to heart. Her big doe eyes tell me nothing, though she listens well, and glances when I point.
She also has a set of two way radios, some survival gear, a length of real climbing rope, and some odds and ends. I ask if she was an adventuring type. It seems not, these are remnants of a boyfriend, he had stored them and just never returned to retrieve these things. I suggest that she will need to learn some things to survive and be helpful. Climbing is an essential trick, especially in the city oddly. The “civil” nature of the area all but leaves the locals unaware that a person can or would go around a corner, toss a rope, shimmy to a hidden height, and have the rope up before they could ever round the corner. Even if found, a pistol is amazingly accurate, and since you are shooting down and only one of them at a time can see you, it’s pretty good odds. Even a crowd of ten scatters when three of their numbers falls in a few seconds.
Well, come with me. I will show you around the cave. “Cave, the first time you said that, I actually thought it was a cave, or at least cave like!”, she laughs. I suggest I call it a cave because I am a troll or ogre or something, or that is how I see it. She just shakes her head a bit and smiles again. I show her the rest of the compartmentalized main room. It is a large round room in which I have placed room screens so as to produce stations or little rooms. There are five areas: the central are is for food consumption, relaxation, games, and such; the first outer area has my communication set up; the next area has my ammunition production, partial weapon storage and cleaning, and all associated tools; then is the general storage area where I keep all dry goods from rope to dry foods to seasonal clothing and bedding; the final area is unused. There is the front foyer, as I call it, for hanging coats, jackets, and dirty or wet clothes, leaving shoes, umbrellas, and hats, and I show her how to stow these things, and were I prefer them. I then take her to the closet in the storage area. In there I keep all functional bedding, towels, and toiletries.
I take her to a real room, through a door, off the supply area, and suggest this is where she may sleep. We enter and there is a decent bed, two dressers, a small closet, a nightstand and lamp, a clothes hamper, and a waste paper basket. We are underground, I tell her though I am sure she suspects. You may freely use the lights, though I prefer to use red lights at night. I show her how the switch is set to facilitate this. I let her know that the whole place is rigged similarly. “Security", she asks? "Or are the red lights tactical or something?”. Ah, no, though technically they preserve night vision. Really, it is just because it was fun to do. It is sort of neat. She chuckles. Do you want an alarm clock, I ask? She has one, so we move on to the other door in this room. Inside is a bathroom, with a bath, separate shower, and all the facilities she should need. I ask what toiletries she might require, including of the feminine varietal. She peels off a list, and I note them on my pad. As we leave these two rooms, I begin looking through the supplies. I find most of what she wishes, a clean extra set of bedding, a few extra blankets, and a teddy bear for her. I hand them over and suggest she stock these where she feels best. When she returns, I go on.
I take her back to the weapons locker. I point to the door behind it and tell her that is my area. I suggest she not go in there. I suggest she not try to do so, whether I am here or not. I do not indicate why this is so, I only indicate that it might not be in her best interest, and I am not lying. Who knows what she is thinking, I only hope she takes this part to heart. Her big doe eyes tell me nothing, though she listens well, and glances when I point.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Gloomy thoughts on a cheery stormy day.
I am not doing as well as I have been. I have been a bit home bound, again. My sleep schedule is off, which is not helping. But more, my ability to get going on things is really off. At least I am awake a good deal more, I am fully functional if I cannot seem to find motivation in that I remember things, I still have little goals and meet some of them, I do some chores, and I try to eat a bit more regularly. As well, I have been writing, on this blog, the story, plus odd comments left here and there.
I will be camping this Wednesday or Thursday overnight. And, if I can catch my neighbor, I should be able to get out to another movie sometime this week. Plus, I have been to several movies with the Ice Queen lately, though she initiated. But only once did I get out to the path. I know I need to find more paths, for variety. This has become a sticking point. I can see that I am having some difficulties making certain decisions, finding data, and a few other things. Money has been difficult for me to manage, which does not help. Not being sure about my neighbor and whether I will feel the need to move does not help. And there are a few other things which might be blocking up the works, as well. Not sleeping enough is a part of it too, I am quite sure.
I might get out to the garage and work on the thing a bit. I need to get the snow blower to the front of the garage, anyway. It had been being stored in the vacant neighbors garage, but as she filled it with boxes, she asked me to move it. She has not wanted any help with moving things, and has seemed distant, so I have been avoiding her. I am not sure what that is about, though it adds to my suspicions. This is not the Ritz, mind you, but it is priced well enough above a simple two or three bedroom apartment that it would keep most out. The garage, washer and drier, and central air were my draw, even if it is nearly the cost of buying (a junk old or lower end slap up house is about what you would get at this price, with probably a 30 to 60 mile drive to town, but).
It just stormed, and I enjoyed. If I could live in a place where the weather constantly changed, and powerful storms were frequent, while the temps stayed cool to cold, I would be happy. Still, I do not complain too much about Iowa. Our winters, in my part, are long and what others like to call harsh. Even in this “Florida of Iowa”, as I call it, it can get chilly. The heat is a temporary annoyance which allows for sweet corn, and a bit of summer fun. However, demographically, it is changing from the education state to the ghetto state, and fast. All of the largest, many of the larger, and some of the small cities have been consumed by multiculturally diverse manufacturing slums. Drugs dens invade even the tiniest of towns. The orcs, ogres, trolls, and such have moved in and squatted. The place is lost to Democrats because of it, so there is no real hope here. Still, I will do what I do for this area, while I remain. Just popping out ever so occasionally for “fresh air” has calmed a lot of the “action” down. I really doubt if the neighborhood is going to do anything, after speaking with several neighbors. Still, I now wait to see about my new neighbor before I will invest in this further. Neighborhood Watch is probably my best bet, but I do not see that going anywhere. I really would like to get that class out of the way before departing, if that is the case. Yes, a lot of conflicting options, timetables, thoughts, and plans. No, it is not fun.
What was the last thing the dwarves wrote in their book, found in the tomb chamber? Ah… “They come.”
I will be camping this Wednesday or Thursday overnight. And, if I can catch my neighbor, I should be able to get out to another movie sometime this week. Plus, I have been to several movies with the Ice Queen lately, though she initiated. But only once did I get out to the path. I know I need to find more paths, for variety. This has become a sticking point. I can see that I am having some difficulties making certain decisions, finding data, and a few other things. Money has been difficult for me to manage, which does not help. Not being sure about my neighbor and whether I will feel the need to move does not help. And there are a few other things which might be blocking up the works, as well. Not sleeping enough is a part of it too, I am quite sure.
I might get out to the garage and work on the thing a bit. I need to get the snow blower to the front of the garage, anyway. It had been being stored in the vacant neighbors garage, but as she filled it with boxes, she asked me to move it. She has not wanted any help with moving things, and has seemed distant, so I have been avoiding her. I am not sure what that is about, though it adds to my suspicions. This is not the Ritz, mind you, but it is priced well enough above a simple two or three bedroom apartment that it would keep most out. The garage, washer and drier, and central air were my draw, even if it is nearly the cost of buying (a junk old or lower end slap up house is about what you would get at this price, with probably a 30 to 60 mile drive to town, but).
It just stormed, and I enjoyed. If I could live in a place where the weather constantly changed, and powerful storms were frequent, while the temps stayed cool to cold, I would be happy. Still, I do not complain too much about Iowa. Our winters, in my part, are long and what others like to call harsh. Even in this “Florida of Iowa”, as I call it, it can get chilly. The heat is a temporary annoyance which allows for sweet corn, and a bit of summer fun. However, demographically, it is changing from the education state to the ghetto state, and fast. All of the largest, many of the larger, and some of the small cities have been consumed by multiculturally diverse manufacturing slums. Drugs dens invade even the tiniest of towns. The orcs, ogres, trolls, and such have moved in and squatted. The place is lost to Democrats because of it, so there is no real hope here. Still, I will do what I do for this area, while I remain. Just popping out ever so occasionally for “fresh air” has calmed a lot of the “action” down. I really doubt if the neighborhood is going to do anything, after speaking with several neighbors. Still, I now wait to see about my new neighbor before I will invest in this further. Neighborhood Watch is probably my best bet, but I do not see that going anywhere. I really would like to get that class out of the way before departing, if that is the case. Yes, a lot of conflicting options, timetables, thoughts, and plans. No, it is not fun.
What was the last thing the dwarves wrote in their book, found in the tomb chamber? Ah… “They come.”
The Thought Traveler: A Tale of Mischief, Wonder, and Woe. Part X
The trip back to the cave is uneventful. There was something going on several blocks away, but the sounds were odd, in that I just could not put them together into a cohesive guess. If I was not lugging a baby, I would have attempted to find out what was happening. As is, I thought it best to just keep going. I circle the cave, checking for signs of approach or entrance. My spider web is intact, no one is nearby, so I go in. I do not show Cindy any of this, not yet, maybe never. Some of these reset themselves, just adding to a counter quietly. I should be able to track her coming and going, party size, everything. In we go, to settle accounts.
When we get into the first room, I take off my jacket and hang it on a hook. I suggest she do likewise. Going on into the central area, I head for the central “room” and begin seeing to my gear. First I get everything out and off and set them on the table. Next, I check them off my list as present, stowing some things, putting my pistol and keys back, and moving my blade’s scabbard from my waste to my leg, instead of putting it up too, seeing that I now have unknown company. I look over the menu, and decide on a few things, grab the tea, and about to set up when I remember company. Cindy? She is just inside the main room, gazing around. Over here, are you hungry? “Well, yes, I suppose”. Well, come on over. I show her what is available and suggest she make herself at home. “Fresh tomatoes, apples, lots of vegetables actually! You do well for yourself. Do you mind?” Not at all, and, it’s summer. A little looking, a little care, a few seeds, and well, I make do. The jerky is all beef, but I will probably have to go to deer after this is out, in five years!” I laugh. She politely laughs, she just doesn’t understand how much jerky I have.
She really loads up on the fresh vegetables, taking only a sliver of jerky. She sets herself a place and is about to set when she remembers her goods and is about to go get them. NO! Eat, relax, it is safe and we will get to that. She is torn, but after considering, decides to enjoy her meal. It is pleasant to feed people. For some reason, it is a joy to me. Though I cooked none of this, I did tend, gather, and now provide it. That is enough for it to be enjoyed. I ask if she would wish some sugar or honey with her tea? “No, not this time. I really like the mint though.” I suggest every other pot of tea I make, or so, I add some mint.
After we finish our meal, I show her how I take care of disposable and non-disposable dining items. I suggest if she means to be here, she learn my ways. If she wishes to do more, fine, less is not so tolerated. As well, if I slack, it is my cave. I will not hear it. I also make it clear she is quite free to stay or go, temporarily or permanently. However, I would like to know her plans. Coming in while I am napping might not be a happy event, surprises do not suit me. She seems to understand, but one can never tell. “Oh, she says.”, and jumps up, clears her place as I have asked, and goes for her items.
When we get into the first room, I take off my jacket and hang it on a hook. I suggest she do likewise. Going on into the central area, I head for the central “room” and begin seeing to my gear. First I get everything out and off and set them on the table. Next, I check them off my list as present, stowing some things, putting my pistol and keys back, and moving my blade’s scabbard from my waste to my leg, instead of putting it up too, seeing that I now have unknown company. I look over the menu, and decide on a few things, grab the tea, and about to set up when I remember company. Cindy? She is just inside the main room, gazing around. Over here, are you hungry? “Well, yes, I suppose”. Well, come on over. I show her what is available and suggest she make herself at home. “Fresh tomatoes, apples, lots of vegetables actually! You do well for yourself. Do you mind?” Not at all, and, it’s summer. A little looking, a little care, a few seeds, and well, I make do. The jerky is all beef, but I will probably have to go to deer after this is out, in five years!” I laugh. She politely laughs, she just doesn’t understand how much jerky I have.
She really loads up on the fresh vegetables, taking only a sliver of jerky. She sets herself a place and is about to set when she remembers her goods and is about to go get them. NO! Eat, relax, it is safe and we will get to that. She is torn, but after considering, decides to enjoy her meal. It is pleasant to feed people. For some reason, it is a joy to me. Though I cooked none of this, I did tend, gather, and now provide it. That is enough for it to be enjoyed. I ask if she would wish some sugar or honey with her tea? “No, not this time. I really like the mint though.” I suggest every other pot of tea I make, or so, I add some mint.
After we finish our meal, I show her how I take care of disposable and non-disposable dining items. I suggest if she means to be here, she learn my ways. If she wishes to do more, fine, less is not so tolerated. As well, if I slack, it is my cave. I will not hear it. I also make it clear she is quite free to stay or go, temporarily or permanently. However, I would like to know her plans. Coming in while I am napping might not be a happy event, surprises do not suit me. She seems to understand, but one can never tell. “Oh, she says.”, and jumps up, clears her place as I have asked, and goes for her items.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
The Thought Traveler: A Tale of Mischief, Wonder, and Woe. Part IX
I unlock and open the door and almost exit when I feel him. I draw my pistol and ask him to come around the wall and in the door, slowly. I guarantee the dry wall will not spare him, and neither will I. He begins his entrance. I point the gun at his forehead, alone I ask? “Yea”, and not happy about it. I give the workers a glance or two to let them know they are not forgotten. I back up a cautious step then two and suggest with the pistol that he drop whatever it is he is carrying. A pretty hefty security club, good choice, not necessarily lethal. I again command with the barrel, a seat for the gentleman. I then swing around and shut the door.
Do not tell me your party is getting off work and hordes of you will be entering the building, I ask. “No, not at all. I was just straggling back to see Mathew before going on to the compound. I forgot my… some stuff, and I had wanted to talk to him”. And, what is your name? “I am Phil Markum.” I see, why where you going to brain me then? “I did not know who you were, and I wanted to make sure these two were safe.” Ah, ahah. You see, that is not a good answer. Either you are a fool, a liar, or a lying fool. I am starting to think you all are real trouble. Now, are any of you considering interfering with my quiet exit? “No”, nearly in unison. I do not suppose you would mind if I borrowed your club, just for a bit, would you? “No” he says and nods. I really thought about hitting him on the head with it, then handing it back… control, friend, control I thought to myself. You should be able to find the club hereabouts tomorrow, should you really want it back. I go to the door again, listen, open it, a quick glance one way, then the other, a solid look up and down, and I leave the room. I shut the door, and decide to lock it. I head toward the guarded room. When I get to the corner, I turn around and head back down the hall, locking every door. I get to the worker room, and I hear muffled conversations but do not bother to attempt to eavesdrop. I complete the locking process and move toward the stairs. Isabelle appears, and begs attention. I feel rushed, but grab a few treats, offer one, scratch behind her ears as I squat and listen, then leave a few more treats and move on.
Down to the second level I go, and I make my way to Cindy’s room. Oh, yes, the code. I run through this, then check the door. Locked, so I get out the keys and unlock it. I enter and see no one, I look in the room I first saw her, then check the rest of the rooms. She is gone. Well, that makes my job easier. And, I had considered tricking her away too, so I cannot be too sore. I am too tired to mess with checking for food items, and being low, she most likely would have cleaned the place out when she left. I do, however, close and lock the door. Down the hall, down the steps, right on to the manager’s spaces. So far, so good. I unlock the door, grab the Legos, and head out. With my list, and the fact the group in the top floor is not foraging, I suspect that with a mild use of caution, I should be able to sort and cache the food and items at my leisure. Tonight is over, this boy is tired.
I head out, moving toward my now familiar wooded retreat. I take the path through the foliage, and am about to cut around my usual path home. “Jeff”. It was not loud, or harsh, or even said while someone was moving toward me, but it was just enough above the sounds of hush I needed and expected that I drew, kneeled, and aimed, at Cindy in a heartbeat. I glance around and see it is just us two. She is clean. I lower, then holster, as she recovers a bit and then wonders what to say. I move toward her, hello Cindy. “Hello. Hey, I heard some things upstairs and I became afraid. I decided to get out and believed this is the way you would go, so I waited here. Here is what food I had left, and some other things”. Bring them along, we will check them at my place. Oh, I cannot believe I am taking her to my place, my CAVE! Maybe we can find her a place of her own soon. Yeah, a girlfriend would not be bad, but uhm, she is a bit young and a bit pretty for me, and this is not exactly the time for romance. She does have a cute wiggle. Off we go. Hmm, how did she do that? I am just trying to remember just how that happened. She did not even ask, and as it seems, did not have to ask. Had I not been so side-tracked, back to her apartment since I consider it safe she would have gone. I had better watch this one, and myself around her. I do not like tricks.
As we are about to leave the sheltering wooded area, a pause, I take a good look around, and then motion her closer. I mention the need for caution, I suggest she walk softly, and I also suggest that she avoid contact, follow my lead unless I suggest otherwise, and get my attention quietly if she notices some one or something I have failed to notice, then whisper in my ear, perhaps point if that seems safe or it is vital. I tell her that if we are separated, to meet back here, or if absolutely not feasible, then go to her apartment and meet there. I check her understanding, and suggest that if she is a perpetual difficulty, I will abandon her. She seems to understand. A quick check and away I go. I do slow my pace to accommodate, at least at this point. In time, I will expect her to be able to keep up the pace while moving quietly, should we become allies.
Do not tell me your party is getting off work and hordes of you will be entering the building, I ask. “No, not at all. I was just straggling back to see Mathew before going on to the compound. I forgot my… some stuff, and I had wanted to talk to him”. And, what is your name? “I am Phil Markum.” I see, why where you going to brain me then? “I did not know who you were, and I wanted to make sure these two were safe.” Ah, ahah. You see, that is not a good answer. Either you are a fool, a liar, or a lying fool. I am starting to think you all are real trouble. Now, are any of you considering interfering with my quiet exit? “No”, nearly in unison. I do not suppose you would mind if I borrowed your club, just for a bit, would you? “No” he says and nods. I really thought about hitting him on the head with it, then handing it back… control, friend, control I thought to myself. You should be able to find the club hereabouts tomorrow, should you really want it back. I go to the door again, listen, open it, a quick glance one way, then the other, a solid look up and down, and I leave the room. I shut the door, and decide to lock it. I head toward the guarded room. When I get to the corner, I turn around and head back down the hall, locking every door. I get to the worker room, and I hear muffled conversations but do not bother to attempt to eavesdrop. I complete the locking process and move toward the stairs. Isabelle appears, and begs attention. I feel rushed, but grab a few treats, offer one, scratch behind her ears as I squat and listen, then leave a few more treats and move on.
Down to the second level I go, and I make my way to Cindy’s room. Oh, yes, the code. I run through this, then check the door. Locked, so I get out the keys and unlock it. I enter and see no one, I look in the room I first saw her, then check the rest of the rooms. She is gone. Well, that makes my job easier. And, I had considered tricking her away too, so I cannot be too sore. I am too tired to mess with checking for food items, and being low, she most likely would have cleaned the place out when she left. I do, however, close and lock the door. Down the hall, down the steps, right on to the manager’s spaces. So far, so good. I unlock the door, grab the Legos, and head out. With my list, and the fact the group in the top floor is not foraging, I suspect that with a mild use of caution, I should be able to sort and cache the food and items at my leisure. Tonight is over, this boy is tired.
I head out, moving toward my now familiar wooded retreat. I take the path through the foliage, and am about to cut around my usual path home. “Jeff”. It was not loud, or harsh, or even said while someone was moving toward me, but it was just enough above the sounds of hush I needed and expected that I drew, kneeled, and aimed, at Cindy in a heartbeat. I glance around and see it is just us two. She is clean. I lower, then holster, as she recovers a bit and then wonders what to say. I move toward her, hello Cindy. “Hello. Hey, I heard some things upstairs and I became afraid. I decided to get out and believed this is the way you would go, so I waited here. Here is what food I had left, and some other things”. Bring them along, we will check them at my place. Oh, I cannot believe I am taking her to my place, my CAVE! Maybe we can find her a place of her own soon. Yeah, a girlfriend would not be bad, but uhm, she is a bit young and a bit pretty for me, and this is not exactly the time for romance. She does have a cute wiggle. Off we go. Hmm, how did she do that? I am just trying to remember just how that happened. She did not even ask, and as it seems, did not have to ask. Had I not been so side-tracked, back to her apartment since I consider it safe she would have gone. I had better watch this one, and myself around her. I do not like tricks.
As we are about to leave the sheltering wooded area, a pause, I take a good look around, and then motion her closer. I mention the need for caution, I suggest she walk softly, and I also suggest that she avoid contact, follow my lead unless I suggest otherwise, and get my attention quietly if she notices some one or something I have failed to notice, then whisper in my ear, perhaps point if that seems safe or it is vital. I tell her that if we are separated, to meet back here, or if absolutely not feasible, then go to her apartment and meet there. I check her understanding, and suggest that if she is a perpetual difficulty, I will abandon her. She seems to understand. A quick check and away I go. I do slow my pace to accommodate, at least at this point. In time, I will expect her to be able to keep up the pace while moving quietly, should we become allies.
Five questions, many answers, and perhaps none.
I received this from Cruel Virgin, and after some thought, a lot of thought, time, and finally a sip of tea in a shaded area, refreshed by breeze and light and shadow and a fine summer day, I produced. I write.
1. You are a wonderful writer. What do you hope to achieve as a writer?
Any good writer should attempt to leverage that skill toward the betterment of man, or so it is said. And should I indeed be a good writer, it would be presumed that this would be my goal. However, I have two difficulties with this. The first difficulty is one of faith. Simply, I do not believe I am a good writer. The remaining problem will haunt me all of my days. It is the belief that as powerful as any can be for the good, that potential goodness is exactly equaled by the potential for evil. There is no way around it. This is what is truly crippling me, and I am working on it, but it is slow work. I just am not sure I wish to be an influence. This too, has it’s perils. The litany continues into the forever.
2. Do you believe that we are on a spiritual journey or that life is a random coincidence? If you believe the former, do you have a sense of the journey? If you believe the latter, can you explain why? Elaborate at will.
I have seen both, or made great efforts toward their ends, at one point in life or another. Science and math, philosophy and real social order, nature and business have all lead back to the same door. Try as I may, to remain honest, I finally went through that entrance and stand firmly inside the Cathedral of the Divine. I sense the journey poignantly, desperately, if at times unhappily. I do not know all the places this road leads, though I know where it started, some of where it and I have been, and where it inexorably ends, but I do not know tomorrow because of this way. I only know that when tomorrow comes, should it come, I would rather be on it and dead for it then off it again and alive for a moment longer.
3. What do you think is terribly wrong with our society? What would you do to change it?
What is terribly wrong with our society is sin. This will not change here, now, as things are. Yet, there is a hope given to us. In this nation, tilting off to the left and nihilism as it is and has been, is the greatest chance at realizing that hope and spreading it. That hope is to enjoy freedom, real personal sincere and true freedom. But freedom is not a complete freedom. It is only the freedom to choose between good and bad and then enjoy the fruits or pay the price of or for our choice. What can be done, in this plane, is simple. A re-coupling of consequences to actions. This would require some large portion of prejudice, a choosing of what is and is not allowed, acceptable, permitted by the real government of this land, should this still be a truly free nation. That government is you, your neighbor, your cousins, your fellows, and me. If we choose to be free and define that freedom, in no uncertain terms, the government will respond, churches will respond, culture and society will mend, and there will be hope. Barring that, there is little that will happen and this nation, like the rest, will become a nation of peoples employed and owned by the state in the form of governance and corporations (that last just another entity of the state).
So, the question is, what will we do? I do my part, but there are few who truly join in this work. Most are cowed, confused, disheartened, dead. Time will tell.
4. Have you ever had an epiphany in which something suddenly became real and truthful, changing your entire life direction?
Yes, an odd one. Back in another life (figurative, this one), attending another church, living with my last lady, I was sure she was cheating on me. I stewed and fretted, cursed and moaned, and doubted her passively. Finally, I decided to bring this to God. “God”, I say, “God, please help me with this woeful woman and her lusting ways!”. Now, God did not speak back to me, but he did open the spill gates. The magic mystery eight-ball that is my mind answered back in no uncertain terms. “Care for the log in your eye before castigating the sty in her eye!”. Wow, and I do mean wow. What I saw in those moments was only everything. I could not write it all, there are no books or sets of books or paper enough, there are no words for some of it, and my mind will never be able to hold it all in any case. That was so clear, clean, crips, and true that I knew. And so I did. First thing, no more internet porn. I fell off that wagon exactly once. Now, I am free. But I am free from more than that. I became free of the worry of the woman. She is in God’s hands. And, one might say as well, that was the final nail in the coffin. I realized my life was forfeit and I wished for it to be redeemed, I finally wanted to live. I also realized where this could be done. The only place it could be done, as I knew and know it. It took two and a half more years to follow my marching orders past my fears and doubts, but follow them I have. So, yes, unequivocally yes.
5. Do you vote? Have you any hope for the upcoming election.
Yes, I do vote. It is an odd and dated social custom. I have come to believe it is not a party to my freedom. Did not Stalin win every election, did not Hussein win every election? No, it is impractically applied in order that it maintain my freedom. The original documents provide the way back to that, at least in as much as landowners and men be the voters. Without that, our leaders are the puppets of the unintended, unlearned, and incapable voter, to put it bluntly, to the socialist devil in the worst of our lot. They cannot maintain a freedom with their hands out and up. And yet, to not vote and attempt to have my word provide some balance, even if forced to vote for the socialist over the communist, it is what I have in that regard. And, so, I vote.
Hope, however, is it’s own thing. Hope, for me, is not derived from an election, even should it be held in the way I see things. That is a grace, and yes, I have it. I have lost that before, and without it, God surely seems dead, goodness holds no allure, and life is as meaningless as the money taken by the mugger. Hope lives here but is here of His will and my faith. In this way, I do not worry.
Update:
Per the interview rules:
1. Leave me a comment saying “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with a post containing your the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
1. You are a wonderful writer. What do you hope to achieve as a writer?
Any good writer should attempt to leverage that skill toward the betterment of man, or so it is said. And should I indeed be a good writer, it would be presumed that this would be my goal. However, I have two difficulties with this. The first difficulty is one of faith. Simply, I do not believe I am a good writer. The remaining problem will haunt me all of my days. It is the belief that as powerful as any can be for the good, that potential goodness is exactly equaled by the potential for evil. There is no way around it. This is what is truly crippling me, and I am working on it, but it is slow work. I just am not sure I wish to be an influence. This too, has it’s perils. The litany continues into the forever.
2. Do you believe that we are on a spiritual journey or that life is a random coincidence? If you believe the former, do you have a sense of the journey? If you believe the latter, can you explain why? Elaborate at will.
I have seen both, or made great efforts toward their ends, at one point in life or another. Science and math, philosophy and real social order, nature and business have all lead back to the same door. Try as I may, to remain honest, I finally went through that entrance and stand firmly inside the Cathedral of the Divine. I sense the journey poignantly, desperately, if at times unhappily. I do not know all the places this road leads, though I know where it started, some of where it and I have been, and where it inexorably ends, but I do not know tomorrow because of this way. I only know that when tomorrow comes, should it come, I would rather be on it and dead for it then off it again and alive for a moment longer.
3. What do you think is terribly wrong with our society? What would you do to change it?
What is terribly wrong with our society is sin. This will not change here, now, as things are. Yet, there is a hope given to us. In this nation, tilting off to the left and nihilism as it is and has been, is the greatest chance at realizing that hope and spreading it. That hope is to enjoy freedom, real personal sincere and true freedom. But freedom is not a complete freedom. It is only the freedom to choose between good and bad and then enjoy the fruits or pay the price of or for our choice. What can be done, in this plane, is simple. A re-coupling of consequences to actions. This would require some large portion of prejudice, a choosing of what is and is not allowed, acceptable, permitted by the real government of this land, should this still be a truly free nation. That government is you, your neighbor, your cousins, your fellows, and me. If we choose to be free and define that freedom, in no uncertain terms, the government will respond, churches will respond, culture and society will mend, and there will be hope. Barring that, there is little that will happen and this nation, like the rest, will become a nation of peoples employed and owned by the state in the form of governance and corporations (that last just another entity of the state).
So, the question is, what will we do? I do my part, but there are few who truly join in this work. Most are cowed, confused, disheartened, dead. Time will tell.
4. Have you ever had an epiphany in which something suddenly became real and truthful, changing your entire life direction?
Yes, an odd one. Back in another life (figurative, this one), attending another church, living with my last lady, I was sure she was cheating on me. I stewed and fretted, cursed and moaned, and doubted her passively. Finally, I decided to bring this to God. “God”, I say, “God, please help me with this woeful woman and her lusting ways!”. Now, God did not speak back to me, but he did open the spill gates. The magic mystery eight-ball that is my mind answered back in no uncertain terms. “Care for the log in your eye before castigating the sty in her eye!”. Wow, and I do mean wow. What I saw in those moments was only everything. I could not write it all, there are no books or sets of books or paper enough, there are no words for some of it, and my mind will never be able to hold it all in any case. That was so clear, clean, crips, and true that I knew. And so I did. First thing, no more internet porn. I fell off that wagon exactly once. Now, I am free. But I am free from more than that. I became free of the worry of the woman. She is in God’s hands. And, one might say as well, that was the final nail in the coffin. I realized my life was forfeit and I wished for it to be redeemed, I finally wanted to live. I also realized where this could be done. The only place it could be done, as I knew and know it. It took two and a half more years to follow my marching orders past my fears and doubts, but follow them I have. So, yes, unequivocally yes.
5. Do you vote? Have you any hope for the upcoming election.
Yes, I do vote. It is an odd and dated social custom. I have come to believe it is not a party to my freedom. Did not Stalin win every election, did not Hussein win every election? No, it is impractically applied in order that it maintain my freedom. The original documents provide the way back to that, at least in as much as landowners and men be the voters. Without that, our leaders are the puppets of the unintended, unlearned, and incapable voter, to put it bluntly, to the socialist devil in the worst of our lot. They cannot maintain a freedom with their hands out and up. And yet, to not vote and attempt to have my word provide some balance, even if forced to vote for the socialist over the communist, it is what I have in that regard. And, so, I vote.
Hope, however, is it’s own thing. Hope, for me, is not derived from an election, even should it be held in the way I see things. That is a grace, and yes, I have it. I have lost that before, and without it, God surely seems dead, goodness holds no allure, and life is as meaningless as the money taken by the mugger. Hope lives here but is here of His will and my faith. In this way, I do not worry.
Update:
Per the interview rules:
1. Leave me a comment saying “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with a post containing your the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
Sunday, and all is good, mostly.
I have asked to be interviewed, and I see the questions before me. My echo chamber rings with answers, questions, doubts, and words, yet the writing will not begin. I must contemplate, though not too much longer I hope. I suppose I could glibly write a whatever, yet that is against my grain. Either do something right or do nothing. That is how I live, and perhaps why so little gets done? Well, that and being a bit of a procrastinator and sleeping for months to years at a time. As I am waking though, I must find that something that propels the others forward. So, I do work at this. I will do this, in reasonably time, and correctly.
I have completed one task which was unsure to be done. I purchased, through an associate for various and technical reasons, a wrought iron bistro table and chairs, with an umbrella. I enjoyed my first iced tea in the shade of said only a short time ago. I am satisfied. It only has two chairs, though if more company arrives, I may use my camp chair. It should be a splendid little place to enjoy parts of my day, entertain company when the cave is ooc, or send the fiery Vader Lady when she gets hyped on one of her liberal deliriums or other, including my air conditioning. Fie, get the hither, maybe tither, I can never be sure so long as it is a cardinal direction with me as the stationary center and her as the item with which to calculate increasing speed and distance, to attain a, hopefully, high velocity. Fie!
I also spoke with the neighbors this day. I had purchased a dozen ears of corn the other day, and thought provide a dozen for them. I was not sure they still had the added coterie remaining in residence or not, and yet, with a family of 6, such a small gift could do no harm. I was able to see AND hold the newest resident! Some things are exciting to me! This little one is only days old. He can barely make out my face, but he sure looked, when he was not considering sleeping or relieving himself as I suspect were both strong considerations. Neither occurred, to my knowledge, and back to Dad he went. I know I always say it is the little things folks, and in size perhaps this was, but in no way is holding a miracle a small thing. It was a blessing.
So, during the blessing, I spoke with the neighbors. I had, by an odd quirk, needed to see them this morning in any case. I had, it seems, locked myself out of my apartment, leaving my keys in my jacket. I rarely wear jackets this late of season, but when I went out last eve, it seemed right. I will have to change the habit of leaving the keys in the jacket. I had thought I was jacket trained, but this snuck up on me. So, while retrieving the keys, I was graciously welcomed in to speak with the family, happily on all accounts gladly. I had locked myself out at 6:30, yet I waited until 8:30 to pay a visit. I try to be polite, even in need. As well, the morning was a delight. I did enjoy the day’s blossoming.
I did forget, somewhat purposefully, to see about fishing tomorrow, as had been scheduled, and as a thing I had intended to discuss. One of the discussions concerned movies we had all recently watched. Some had watched Ratatouille, and I had seen Harry Potter, and they had seen Transformers. I indicated that I wanted to see Transformers, he said it was good enough that he wanted to see it again, and would I be interested in going. So, we set that for Wednesday, late, after wisely checking with the misses. Therefore, and at that time, I thought to let the Monday fishing expedition slide so as not to be too demanding of time in such a short space. I then explained what I thought of Harry Potter and Ratatouille. I think I detailed those here, previously, so will spare that. It seems they will be taking a vacation to their home area soon. Yet, they fear the fruits of their labor will go unused. They have three tomato plants, a zucchini plant, and a cucumber plant which they suggested I utilize. And so I shall! My first BLT of the year is in sight. Drats, update. The Queen and myself will be going camping that eve. I will have to adjust this with the neighbor and see what else will work. *blush* Well, there are advantages to diary blogging after all.
The Queen did make an appearance today. I however, had taken a nap shortly after regaining entry to my abode. I cannot say when she arrived, though I know she was still here at 14:00 or so. She was beginning my kitchen cleaning, which I have been quite remiss in resolving. That will help, and I should be able to get to the rest of it now and more easily with the bit she did and the order she brought to the eclectic and growing symphony of disarray. She, apparently, had no pants washed for work this evening. As well, she had decided to do the favor which I had asked. She, being the financier for the aforementioned purchase, thought today would be the right time, leaving tomorrow to her needs or wants. And, she had decided on the price. She required that I obtain a clothes drying umbrella, and place it. So easy, if a bit pricey, so the deal was struck. I had already made purchase of some items in thanks, yet I do not mind this. I left the drier in her truck, thinking she might have meant it for her place, but this was not the way of it. I can almost guarantee whichever way I had gone with the drier, it would have been the wrong one, trust me. She indeed wished it to be placed here, and indicated where it should go. I thought where it might better fit, at that particular moment, yet wisely withheld my sudden wisdom, with some effort or forethought(?). Then off she went, leaving me to my druthers. First thing, curtains are closed and ac goes down. Nice.
Since then, I have just been reading my favorites, praying for those who need or who I see may need, commenting like the fool I am, and just enjoying my day. I think it is time for a spot of tea, a pipe (do not ask, as yes with patch), and a little time obtaining “fresh air”. Life is not all bad, not even mostly bad, even if at times the bad seems to blot out the rest. Not a blot on the horizon this day. Be at peace.
I have completed one task which was unsure to be done. I purchased, through an associate for various and technical reasons, a wrought iron bistro table and chairs, with an umbrella. I enjoyed my first iced tea in the shade of said only a short time ago. I am satisfied. It only has two chairs, though if more company arrives, I may use my camp chair. It should be a splendid little place to enjoy parts of my day, entertain company when the cave is ooc, or send the fiery Vader Lady when she gets hyped on one of her liberal deliriums or other, including my air conditioning. Fie, get the hither, maybe tither, I can never be sure so long as it is a cardinal direction with me as the stationary center and her as the item with which to calculate increasing speed and distance, to attain a, hopefully, high velocity. Fie!
I also spoke with the neighbors this day. I had purchased a dozen ears of corn the other day, and thought provide a dozen for them. I was not sure they still had the added coterie remaining in residence or not, and yet, with a family of 6, such a small gift could do no harm. I was able to see AND hold the newest resident! Some things are exciting to me! This little one is only days old. He can barely make out my face, but he sure looked, when he was not considering sleeping or relieving himself as I suspect were both strong considerations. Neither occurred, to my knowledge, and back to Dad he went. I know I always say it is the little things folks, and in size perhaps this was, but in no way is holding a miracle a small thing. It was a blessing.
So, during the blessing, I spoke with the neighbors. I had, by an odd quirk, needed to see them this morning in any case. I had, it seems, locked myself out of my apartment, leaving my keys in my jacket. I rarely wear jackets this late of season, but when I went out last eve, it seemed right. I will have to change the habit of leaving the keys in the jacket. I had thought I was jacket trained, but this snuck up on me. So, while retrieving the keys, I was graciously welcomed in to speak with the family, happily on all accounts gladly. I had locked myself out at 6:30, yet I waited until 8:30 to pay a visit. I try to be polite, even in need. As well, the morning was a delight. I did enjoy the day’s blossoming.
I did forget, somewhat purposefully, to see about fishing tomorrow, as had been scheduled, and as a thing I had intended to discuss. One of the discussions concerned movies we had all recently watched. Some had watched Ratatouille, and I had seen Harry Potter, and they had seen Transformers. I indicated that I wanted to see Transformers, he said it was good enough that he wanted to see it again, and would I be interested in going. So, we set that for Wednesday, late, after wisely checking with the misses. Therefore, and at that time, I thought to let the Monday fishing expedition slide so as not to be too demanding of time in such a short space. I then explained what I thought of Harry Potter and Ratatouille. I think I detailed those here, previously, so will spare that. It seems they will be taking a vacation to their home area soon. Yet, they fear the fruits of their labor will go unused. They have three tomato plants, a zucchini plant, and a cucumber plant which they suggested I utilize. And so I shall! My first BLT of the year is in sight. Drats, update. The Queen and myself will be going camping that eve. I will have to adjust this with the neighbor and see what else will work. *blush* Well, there are advantages to diary blogging after all.
The Queen did make an appearance today. I however, had taken a nap shortly after regaining entry to my abode. I cannot say when she arrived, though I know she was still here at 14:00 or so. She was beginning my kitchen cleaning, which I have been quite remiss in resolving. That will help, and I should be able to get to the rest of it now and more easily with the bit she did and the order she brought to the eclectic and growing symphony of disarray. She, apparently, had no pants washed for work this evening. As well, she had decided to do the favor which I had asked. She, being the financier for the aforementioned purchase, thought today would be the right time, leaving tomorrow to her needs or wants. And, she had decided on the price. She required that I obtain a clothes drying umbrella, and place it. So easy, if a bit pricey, so the deal was struck. I had already made purchase of some items in thanks, yet I do not mind this. I left the drier in her truck, thinking she might have meant it for her place, but this was not the way of it. I can almost guarantee whichever way I had gone with the drier, it would have been the wrong one, trust me. She indeed wished it to be placed here, and indicated where it should go. I thought where it might better fit, at that particular moment, yet wisely withheld my sudden wisdom, with some effort or forethought(?). Then off she went, leaving me to my druthers. First thing, curtains are closed and ac goes down. Nice.
Since then, I have just been reading my favorites, praying for those who need or who I see may need, commenting like the fool I am, and just enjoying my day. I think it is time for a spot of tea, a pipe (do not ask, as yes with patch), and a little time obtaining “fresh air”. Life is not all bad, not even mostly bad, even if at times the bad seems to blot out the rest. Not a blot on the horizon this day. Be at peace.
The Thought Traveler: A Tale of Mischief, Wonder, and Woe. Part VIII
I take a great deal of time moving along the hall. At every third door, I stop, listen, unlock, then investigate the suites. The master key, so far, has not failed me. All of the apartments seem to be turned into open bedrooms, with only the kitchen and bathrooms serving their intended purposes. Most beds are made, some look unused, others used and made, while a few are used and unmade. Partially filled hampers are in some sleeping quarters, towels on racks to dry, more stored in cabinets. Occasionally, apartments are set up for occupancy, yet seem completely unused. These I keep unlocked, as emergency hideaways or safe rooms, locking all the others as I leave them, noting them on my pad. I find nothing of use in the rooms, no food though signs of recent cooking, limited toiletries, no tools, even the bedding items seem a bit worn.
I look at my map, and then look up. I am just around the corner from where I believe the man entered the room. I remember where the last safe room is and orientate myself this side of the hall corner so that should I need to move swiftly, I will know where to go. I settle into a squat, leaning into the wall as well, I slide my goggles back, then ease over to glance around the corner and down the hall. I take stock of what I am seeing for a moment, then I regain the safety of the corner. There are two small light sources, one this side and the other on the far side of the suspected door. The door itself is to my left, though it seems as though there might be an alcove on the right hand of the hallway, across from the door. Something tells me someone is in that alcove. There is not a better place to attempt a peak, as the opposite end of the lighted hall is a mirror image of this one. One more glance, and I realize my suspicions. I can see just enough of the peaked alcove roof descending to be sure it is not a door, and then I see a part of a shoe sticking out from the floor of it. Decisions, guesses.
I pull back to my last safe room, enter, close and lock the door, and think. These people do not seem aggressive, or of the worst or basest nature, and yet there is nothing indicating they are friendly. Still, this door down the hall seems to be guarded and the man who entered that door seems to be a man in charge, not someone who would necessarily negotiate or give out information. The rooms with the workers, on the other hand, seems a bit safer. Worst case scenario, at least I am closer to the stairwell should I need to attempt an escape. Facing a potentially hostile female and boy is less of a risk than facing at least two probably both adult males as well as having to potentially face the female and juvenile should I succeed here in a bad scene. Yes, a plan forms.
I listen at the door. It seems no one is the wiser. I unlock the door, and head back the way I had come. I close on the door in question, and as I am passing a door to my closest safe room, I check it. Unlocked and ready. I enter this one, shut and lock the door, and listen, again. The workers are no longer working. I can hear no sound at first. Then I hear some voices, quietly talking, perhaps a recording, I just cannot tell. I hear nothing else, save a slight hum from the heart of the building, the slight amount that reaches all this way, or perhaps is generated closer. Yet, I have a feeling my presence is known. I am sure I have either been spotted, heard, or found out in some other manner. I just know it. Decisions, guesses.
The obvious safest play would be to attempt to escape. Perhaps taking one of the other routs. The middle play would be to attempt to make contact with the workers. The last choice, one which has already been set aside, and more so now, is to attempt to make contact with the man, though more likely his guard first. To the workers, I decide. I am reaching for the door when I hear the door to the workers room being unlocked. I do so, as well, though quietly. I open my door and begin toward their door. Some voices, something about not yet, I have to, please, it will be trouble. I grab the handle, turn it gently, and open the door. The woman’s eyes widen in surprise and fear, she almost screams. Tim, it seems, spins and almost topples backwards into and onto the woman. They seem to catch each others stumble. She recovers the quickest, eyes calming though still wary, “Yes, what is it?”. I love the way women speak when they know the game just left their court. Not meaning to intrude, I suggest. I merely needed supplies and was searching buildings. I had arrived here and started looking around when I came upon you. Could we speak?
Her eyes are hard, unyielding, yet she agrees. I step forward to get out of the hallway, and she means to stand her ground but yields at the last moment. She leads Tim over and away, and corals him to their mutual safety. I close the door and lock it. As I have said, I begin, I am merely scavenging food, tools, supplies, and such. I mean you no harm. I must admit to being curious about what all is going on here. And I am a bit surprised you have not scavenged the rest of this building yourselves. Would you care to discuss any of this? “You will need to speak with Jim, James actually”. James is not here, and I would like to hear your version, or what you feel you can share, or I would have a difficult time trusting someone named James or you just because you suggest it would be best. Can you see my dilemma? “We are working here. The area and recent events are being researched. We are merely storage and housekeeping workers, so we do not know more”. What is your name, by the way? “I am Sarah and this”, she indicates to the young man, “is Tim”. What is your policy toward locals? Do you have a force with you, or are you also your own defense? “What do you mean, we.. they are scientists, nothing more. There might be a firearm or two, just in case mind you, but we expect no trouble”. What channel are you using? “What”? On your radio, what channel? “Oh, channel 9”. Ok, I will leave now. I will make a channel check at 20:00 tomorrow evening. I will do that for three days running. If he is interested in talking, he’ll find a way to be on that channel at that time.
I look at my map, and then look up. I am just around the corner from where I believe the man entered the room. I remember where the last safe room is and orientate myself this side of the hall corner so that should I need to move swiftly, I will know where to go. I settle into a squat, leaning into the wall as well, I slide my goggles back, then ease over to glance around the corner and down the hall. I take stock of what I am seeing for a moment, then I regain the safety of the corner. There are two small light sources, one this side and the other on the far side of the suspected door. The door itself is to my left, though it seems as though there might be an alcove on the right hand of the hallway, across from the door. Something tells me someone is in that alcove. There is not a better place to attempt a peak, as the opposite end of the lighted hall is a mirror image of this one. One more glance, and I realize my suspicions. I can see just enough of the peaked alcove roof descending to be sure it is not a door, and then I see a part of a shoe sticking out from the floor of it. Decisions, guesses.
I pull back to my last safe room, enter, close and lock the door, and think. These people do not seem aggressive, or of the worst or basest nature, and yet there is nothing indicating they are friendly. Still, this door down the hall seems to be guarded and the man who entered that door seems to be a man in charge, not someone who would necessarily negotiate or give out information. The rooms with the workers, on the other hand, seems a bit safer. Worst case scenario, at least I am closer to the stairwell should I need to attempt an escape. Facing a potentially hostile female and boy is less of a risk than facing at least two probably both adult males as well as having to potentially face the female and juvenile should I succeed here in a bad scene. Yes, a plan forms.
I listen at the door. It seems no one is the wiser. I unlock the door, and head back the way I had come. I close on the door in question, and as I am passing a door to my closest safe room, I check it. Unlocked and ready. I enter this one, shut and lock the door, and listen, again. The workers are no longer working. I can hear no sound at first. Then I hear some voices, quietly talking, perhaps a recording, I just cannot tell. I hear nothing else, save a slight hum from the heart of the building, the slight amount that reaches all this way, or perhaps is generated closer. Yet, I have a feeling my presence is known. I am sure I have either been spotted, heard, or found out in some other manner. I just know it. Decisions, guesses.
The obvious safest play would be to attempt to escape. Perhaps taking one of the other routs. The middle play would be to attempt to make contact with the workers. The last choice, one which has already been set aside, and more so now, is to attempt to make contact with the man, though more likely his guard first. To the workers, I decide. I am reaching for the door when I hear the door to the workers room being unlocked. I do so, as well, though quietly. I open my door and begin toward their door. Some voices, something about not yet, I have to, please, it will be trouble. I grab the handle, turn it gently, and open the door. The woman’s eyes widen in surprise and fear, she almost screams. Tim, it seems, spins and almost topples backwards into and onto the woman. They seem to catch each others stumble. She recovers the quickest, eyes calming though still wary, “Yes, what is it?”. I love the way women speak when they know the game just left their court. Not meaning to intrude, I suggest. I merely needed supplies and was searching buildings. I had arrived here and started looking around when I came upon you. Could we speak?
Her eyes are hard, unyielding, yet she agrees. I step forward to get out of the hallway, and she means to stand her ground but yields at the last moment. She leads Tim over and away, and corals him to their mutual safety. I close the door and lock it. As I have said, I begin, I am merely scavenging food, tools, supplies, and such. I mean you no harm. I must admit to being curious about what all is going on here. And I am a bit surprised you have not scavenged the rest of this building yourselves. Would you care to discuss any of this? “You will need to speak with Jim, James actually”. James is not here, and I would like to hear your version, or what you feel you can share, or I would have a difficult time trusting someone named James or you just because you suggest it would be best. Can you see my dilemma? “We are working here. The area and recent events are being researched. We are merely storage and housekeeping workers, so we do not know more”. What is your name, by the way? “I am Sarah and this”, she indicates to the young man, “is Tim”. What is your policy toward locals? Do you have a force with you, or are you also your own defense? “What do you mean, we.. they are scientists, nothing more. There might be a firearm or two, just in case mind you, but we expect no trouble”. What channel are you using? “What”? On your radio, what channel? “Oh, channel 9”. Ok, I will leave now. I will make a channel check at 20:00 tomorrow evening. I will do that for three days running. If he is interested in talking, he’ll find a way to be on that channel at that time.
A day past and thoughts.
So, I stayed up all day yesterday, awaking at 10:00 (I think), going back to bed at 19:30 with the aid of doc’s magic pills. I woke at 23:00 but was able to go back to sleep until 1:15 perhaps. Maybe it is the summer light and heat, maybe between the meds and my improvements, maybe whatever, I do not know, what I know is the end result has meant very little sleep lately. So far it has mostly been an inconvenience. I am sure that, stretched too long, I will be little better than when I slept too much. So, I am tracking it, perhaps even studying it to see if there is some specific or singular reason I can detect, or clues I could pass on to my doctor.
I would like to do the lawn today, though I do not think Sunday is the correct day to do that, so I will wait until Monday. I have not taken care of confession, college, or a number of other things either. Slogging through the morass, doing what I can when I can, and enjoying the moments and memories. It is not a bad thing.
I went with Q.O.D. to the newest Harry Potter movie yesterday. She had already watched it, but wanted to see it again. She finds great pleasure in it, almost akin to Trekies. I enjoy it like any other children’s story. They do not even attempt to make it adult compatible, so for me it is very much one dimensional or less. Imagine… throw a rock, it hits water, skips into wall, then falls to the ground and lays still. Ok. It is in color. I am not too worried about the “magical” aspect of it. I am too into Shakespeare, or am at points, from my earliest teens to a few years ago, to argue such a point. It just is not my cup of tea. Narnia was only ok, as an adult, though the message was good so even better. The Lord of the Rings, Shakespeare, and some of the classics I read as a child are about all that have followed me to this point. Now, the company was good, and we had lunch on the way, and visited a pet shop as well. It was a fun bit of a day.
I am still a bit off my game. Though some of it is this sleep oddity, some of it is more. There are a lot of changes, some new hopes, and a lot more work and play being done. The uncertainty about whether I will move or not has been playing on my mind strongly. I have not met the neighbor’s boyfriend, so I do not yet know how that will go. Her daughter is adorable, and better, my other neighbor’s daughter will now, finally, have a girl her age with which to play. All have been boys in the neighborhood, so far, in her age group. Moving would have to happen quickly and would sap my finances. Beyond, I probably could not find a place here in the area that quickly, so I would, by necessity, need to move out if temporarily. This would also stop my plans for taking courses, if temporarily.
I would like to do the lawn today, though I do not think Sunday is the correct day to do that, so I will wait until Monday. I have not taken care of confession, college, or a number of other things either. Slogging through the morass, doing what I can when I can, and enjoying the moments and memories. It is not a bad thing.
I went with Q.O.D. to the newest Harry Potter movie yesterday. She had already watched it, but wanted to see it again. She finds great pleasure in it, almost akin to Trekies. I enjoy it like any other children’s story. They do not even attempt to make it adult compatible, so for me it is very much one dimensional or less. Imagine… throw a rock, it hits water, skips into wall, then falls to the ground and lays still. Ok. It is in color. I am not too worried about the “magical” aspect of it. I am too into Shakespeare, or am at points, from my earliest teens to a few years ago, to argue such a point. It just is not my cup of tea. Narnia was only ok, as an adult, though the message was good so even better. The Lord of the Rings, Shakespeare, and some of the classics I read as a child are about all that have followed me to this point. Now, the company was good, and we had lunch on the way, and visited a pet shop as well. It was a fun bit of a day.
I am still a bit off my game. Though some of it is this sleep oddity, some of it is more. There are a lot of changes, some new hopes, and a lot more work and play being done. The uncertainty about whether I will move or not has been playing on my mind strongly. I have not met the neighbor’s boyfriend, so I do not yet know how that will go. Her daughter is adorable, and better, my other neighbor’s daughter will now, finally, have a girl her age with which to play. All have been boys in the neighborhood, so far, in her age group. Moving would have to happen quickly and would sap my finances. Beyond, I probably could not find a place here in the area that quickly, so I would, by necessity, need to move out if temporarily. This would also stop my plans for taking courses, if temporarily.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
The Thought Traveler: A Tale of Mischief, Wonder, and Woe. Part VII
The second floor is clear, or at least, currently. I begin my trek to the stairwell and I hear a door close, above me, and perhaps near the center rear of the building. I will save that area for last. I look at the map, take my bearings, then go. The first three places are empty. As I approach the fourth, I realize someone is inside the place. Perhaps several people from the sounds of things. I cannot tell what they are doing, though they sound rather active. I move cautiously to the door, check for light under the door, none noted, and listen for voices or a more definite idea of what is happening inside.
Boxes are being moved from one of the side rooms to the main and entrance room, then they are being stacked. They do not sound very heavy, and the workers do not sound very large. Bothersome, they must have some light or, like me, goggles. A candle in the off room might not be bright enough for me to detect yet be bright enough to enable their effort. *slam* I believe that door I heard earlier closes and footsteps approach. I back away, back down the hall and around a corner. I thought about using my mirror, but that might reflect too much in this situation. I listen, and as I had hoped, the footfalls end at the door I had been eavesdropping. A jingle as keys are brought out and searched, as I hear the key inserted into the lock, I peel my goggles back and take a peak around the corner. A slightly larger than average man, with a candle in a jug, is entering the room, then gone. I hear work in the room end, and voices. I edge closer to try and make out what is being said. A little closer, closer, there…
“… yesterday. Didn’t James already tell you that?”, a man’s voice speaks. “Yes, but it wasn’t possible” says a woman’s voice. “We can only do so much. You tell James he either needs to send others to help, or he will just have to be patient”. Then something I can’t quite make out, and the door handle turns and the door opens quickly. I begin scooting backwards, when the man’s exit is arrested by a young, probably late teen, male voice, “Where is Jane? I thought she was supposed to visit and bring a few supplies?”. A long pause ensues as the man slowly turns to face the boy. I get around the corner, then to the next door, which I unlock with the master’s key, just in case. I return to the corner just as the man begins to speak, I can now hear well with the door open. “Jane was shot. Hold on, hold on, Tim. We think she will be fine. We are doing what we can for her, but she is weak and will not be up and about for a few weeks perhaps. She tried to find some spices at the grocery store on 5th, in spite of being warned off. I will send someone over to replace you tonight so that you can go see her”. Tim is irate, “And, when exactly where you going to tell me!” he shouts. The woman comes forward and everyone does their little part in the drama until the boy is calmed enough to let it go and the man is done. He exits, shuts the door, locks it, and leaves the way he came.
Decisions. Did I ever mention the fact that I really do not like making them? They all seem faked, even if one uses his best effort, searches for the best information, studies math and science so as to define the parameters in such a way that the decision should be the best, well, it just is what it is. Yes, guessing would be the best term. I think it is just called a decision because it seems more empowering, noble, or suggestive of leadership. I do not need power, I am not noble, and I am alone, I think I will call it guessing for myself. Great, procrastination through definition. Hey, actually, I like that. Still, back to guessing before I begin pondering some other foolish intricacy.
Well, he locked the door when he left, so I am guessing, the people in the room are not going anywhere. Not that they could not unlock the door, only that the actions seem contrary. No one up here is being quiet, particularly, so either they are or feel secure… weapons? devices? guards? the cat? *laughs* I suppose the cat could be a guard of sorts. I had best be paying attention here. I move toward the now shut and locked apartment door and quietly move past, looking closely at the walls and floor ahead of me. I can hear the noises of work as I near then pass the door. No work stoppage on my account, so I continue on. I have a decent idea of where the man is heading, and since I am following, I should be able to pinpoint the place with my map and the sound added to my current knowledge gained from working this floor so far. *slam* Yes, I look at the map and I believe I have it. I had best be careful here though.
Boxes are being moved from one of the side rooms to the main and entrance room, then they are being stacked. They do not sound very heavy, and the workers do not sound very large. Bothersome, they must have some light or, like me, goggles. A candle in the off room might not be bright enough for me to detect yet be bright enough to enable their effort. *slam* I believe that door I heard earlier closes and footsteps approach. I back away, back down the hall and around a corner. I thought about using my mirror, but that might reflect too much in this situation. I listen, and as I had hoped, the footfalls end at the door I had been eavesdropping. A jingle as keys are brought out and searched, as I hear the key inserted into the lock, I peel my goggles back and take a peak around the corner. A slightly larger than average man, with a candle in a jug, is entering the room, then gone. I hear work in the room end, and voices. I edge closer to try and make out what is being said. A little closer, closer, there…
“… yesterday. Didn’t James already tell you that?”, a man’s voice speaks. “Yes, but it wasn’t possible” says a woman’s voice. “We can only do so much. You tell James he either needs to send others to help, or he will just have to be patient”. Then something I can’t quite make out, and the door handle turns and the door opens quickly. I begin scooting backwards, when the man’s exit is arrested by a young, probably late teen, male voice, “Where is Jane? I thought she was supposed to visit and bring a few supplies?”. A long pause ensues as the man slowly turns to face the boy. I get around the corner, then to the next door, which I unlock with the master’s key, just in case. I return to the corner just as the man begins to speak, I can now hear well with the door open. “Jane was shot. Hold on, hold on, Tim. We think she will be fine. We are doing what we can for her, but she is weak and will not be up and about for a few weeks perhaps. She tried to find some spices at the grocery store on 5th, in spite of being warned off. I will send someone over to replace you tonight so that you can go see her”. Tim is irate, “And, when exactly where you going to tell me!” he shouts. The woman comes forward and everyone does their little part in the drama until the boy is calmed enough to let it go and the man is done. He exits, shuts the door, locks it, and leaves the way he came.
Decisions. Did I ever mention the fact that I really do not like making them? They all seem faked, even if one uses his best effort, searches for the best information, studies math and science so as to define the parameters in such a way that the decision should be the best, well, it just is what it is. Yes, guessing would be the best term. I think it is just called a decision because it seems more empowering, noble, or suggestive of leadership. I do not need power, I am not noble, and I am alone, I think I will call it guessing for myself. Great, procrastination through definition. Hey, actually, I like that. Still, back to guessing before I begin pondering some other foolish intricacy.
Well, he locked the door when he left, so I am guessing, the people in the room are not going anywhere. Not that they could not unlock the door, only that the actions seem contrary. No one up here is being quiet, particularly, so either they are or feel secure… weapons? devices? guards? the cat? *laughs* I suppose the cat could be a guard of sorts. I had best be paying attention here. I move toward the now shut and locked apartment door and quietly move past, looking closely at the walls and floor ahead of me. I can hear the noises of work as I near then pass the door. No work stoppage on my account, so I continue on. I have a decent idea of where the man is heading, and since I am following, I should be able to pinpoint the place with my map and the sound added to my current knowledge gained from working this floor so far. *slam* Yes, I look at the map and I believe I have it. I had best be careful here though.
Friday, July 13, 2007
The Jedi master commences to show his self mastery by 'simulating' crying like a baby.
Sleep would be good. After being up a day and a half, I finally went down like I should at somewhere after 19:00 but before 21:00. I then woke about 23:30. Oddly, I have a rare case of heartburn. As well, I feel all slept out. My systems are sluggish, but they are not sleep ready. I am guessing a sleep medication would be best. I just hate taking that stuff.
I have not been writing more on my story, but I do have a little bit left in reserve. I’ll be setting a portion out shortly. Focus just was not there earlier. Sorry about that. I have noticed that I am not alone in this, news and blogging have dried up. The heat, summer time blues, the high humidity doldrums, or what ever has taken it’s toll on traffic.
However, this slow up has given me time for reflection. The more I blog on my site and visit and comment on other sites, the more I realize I have a whole lot of nothing to say. Nothing I work hard at saying comes out meaning anything more that mundane obvious nothingness. There is no wisdom, no intricate intelligent offering, no literary technical genius. I am just happy when reading it later I do not seem too much of a fool, too emotional, or make too many errors regarding my English usage. Some of the earlier posts make me wonder if people think I should just be given a large dose of something, head gear, and locked in a padded room until I die or the world devolves to the secular liberalism that is Hitler, Stalin, and Hillary and just honestly euthanizes me. In a secular world, actually, that is correct.
I hope my writing and logic have improved. I cannot see it, honestly. I am working on a piece for this page, but it is not going to be a 10 minute write like the others. I am actually putting time and thought into it, when I can muster it. And yet, I have little hope that this piece will be anything greater than the rest. Oh, fewer errors, better cohesion, but there is much more to a truly good essay. There is a truth and a brilliance that catches one’s notice like that fine rare meal one awaits in hunger. I do not even think the reader needs to be brilliant, only relatively keen on English and awake. See, no matter how I twist, turn, push, and pull on those bits of logic, grammar, and vocabulary, it does not work. It is enjoyable, if frustrating.
What brought this up was a couple of comments I recently posted. One of these took me a long time to create. Now, it was today or last night, and in my over-exhaustive state, but upon reading it later, I could not believe it. It looked like I let a ten year old write it, if I might have edited a bit. *sigh* I can only wonder what people think when they read there or here. As I said, I have an idea of what they might suggest. I do not know how to deal with this, I guess, is where I am finally getting.
I really enjoy writing. And yet, I do not care to be shamed by my inability, perhaps my disability, at times. I enjoy reading peoples work, and commenting. Yet I so often hurt feelings, say too much, say it so blandly, plainly, or simply that it ends up meaning nothing, i.e. Oh, your lawn is overgrown? Maybe you could mow it. Bingo, I think someone is on the ball, eh? Stepping on toes, squashing the daisies, speaking in the plain terms of the simpleton, and really having nothing more to offer than my company seems to be unsettling to me. As I said, I am just not sure where to go with it. I guess, as others, I will have to tame my passions in this arena, dull my senses, and just create my own psychic thorazine.
I have not been writing more on my story, but I do have a little bit left in reserve. I’ll be setting a portion out shortly. Focus just was not there earlier. Sorry about that. I have noticed that I am not alone in this, news and blogging have dried up. The heat, summer time blues, the high humidity doldrums, or what ever has taken it’s toll on traffic.
However, this slow up has given me time for reflection. The more I blog on my site and visit and comment on other sites, the more I realize I have a whole lot of nothing to say. Nothing I work hard at saying comes out meaning anything more that mundane obvious nothingness. There is no wisdom, no intricate intelligent offering, no literary technical genius. I am just happy when reading it later I do not seem too much of a fool, too emotional, or make too many errors regarding my English usage. Some of the earlier posts make me wonder if people think I should just be given a large dose of something, head gear, and locked in a padded room until I die or the world devolves to the secular liberalism that is Hitler, Stalin, and Hillary and just honestly euthanizes me. In a secular world, actually, that is correct.
I hope my writing and logic have improved. I cannot see it, honestly. I am working on a piece for this page, but it is not going to be a 10 minute write like the others. I am actually putting time and thought into it, when I can muster it. And yet, I have little hope that this piece will be anything greater than the rest. Oh, fewer errors, better cohesion, but there is much more to a truly good essay. There is a truth and a brilliance that catches one’s notice like that fine rare meal one awaits in hunger. I do not even think the reader needs to be brilliant, only relatively keen on English and awake. See, no matter how I twist, turn, push, and pull on those bits of logic, grammar, and vocabulary, it does not work. It is enjoyable, if frustrating.
What brought this up was a couple of comments I recently posted. One of these took me a long time to create. Now, it was today or last night, and in my over-exhaustive state, but upon reading it later, I could not believe it. It looked like I let a ten year old write it, if I might have edited a bit. *sigh* I can only wonder what people think when they read there or here. As I said, I have an idea of what they might suggest. I do not know how to deal with this, I guess, is where I am finally getting.
I really enjoy writing. And yet, I do not care to be shamed by my inability, perhaps my disability, at times. I enjoy reading peoples work, and commenting. Yet I so often hurt feelings, say too much, say it so blandly, plainly, or simply that it ends up meaning nothing, i.e. Oh, your lawn is overgrown? Maybe you could mow it. Bingo, I think someone is on the ball, eh? Stepping on toes, squashing the daisies, speaking in the plain terms of the simpleton, and really having nothing more to offer than my company seems to be unsettling to me. As I said, I am just not sure where to go with it. I guess, as others, I will have to tame my passions in this arena, dull my senses, and just create my own psychic thorazine.
Is it bedtime yet?
I think this guy knows how I feel, or is it vice versa, this morning. Though we both seem to be in pretty good condition, for the condition we are in. I could not sleep last night, and may not be able to sleep for a while. Since I am up, it would be good to just try and stay up as long as I am able. I did not do much last night, tinkering on the computer, looking at this, reading that, going there, and getting nothing done. I was unable to write, and did not even put up parts of the story I have written and edited. It was a waste of awake time. Hmm, not sure what is going on.
I know I am putting together an essay which will be controversial. Perhaps the thoughts whirling around those issues are like bees in my breeches. Or perhaps just the writing process itself, choosing the right words, deciding how to express my thoughts most poignantly, making sure the essay, from whole to paragraph to sentence to clause makes sense, is connected within and without those structures, and concludes simply. Staying on track seems to be difficult for me. Oh, did you see that? I can be writing and then, it is 9:25 here and now, be distracted by, Rocky sure was hungry, I am surprised those last three fish are still alive, whatever passes before my eyes, into my ears, activates my other sensory receptors, or even non-sensory events such as premonitions, emotions, or metabolic changes. Ah yes, the patch is troubling. I have nothing to chew or smoke, and that is a part of it. Now would be a good time to nail my foot to the floor. What was that about, should your hand lead you to sin, better to lop it off and barbeque it rather than smoke forever? Well, you know what I mean.
I tried to call Tiger Lily, but her phone is shut off. I hope she is getting sleep, by my suspicion says not. She is probably off working in her rich friend’s yard. Pulling invasive species. I haven’t yet asked if she will get to the Mexicans next, or if she is still too busy with Europeans. I think it would be lost on her, and she would then just think I hate Mexicans. Well, yes and no, the people could be fine but the action is not. Their illegal nature makes like or dislike irrelevant. Half of my adopted family IS Mexican, legally born here, some here before Europeans. My birth parents were a little under half native American. As such, if she wants to be technical in her libcrat way, I want her AND the Mexicans out. Conservative European descendents can stay though. Well, conservative Christian Europeans can stay. They produce more than hot air and theories about it. Or, their hot air productions end in toys, foods, and neat stuff. Or, their hot air does not come with bad breath, drug dulled minds, and a death wish they would like to share with all others. Similar with the Mexicans, if they are functionally productive, ask to enter and receive that grant, and do not commit crimes, cool. The rest must go back to the socialism that spawned them and their nature, and their desire to come here. Let them fix their problems in their own land rather than bringing them here and helping to expand our similar problem until we are just another Mexico. Did you realize they have the same per capita GDP as we do? I do not care if Vox Day says there is no real basis for GDP as a functional gauge of the economy, I say otherwise. It may be an imperfect tool, it’s only a four pound hammer where a ten pound sledge might be better, but it’ll do in enough cases for my purposes.
Vox, invoking your name will possibly catch your eye (wreathed in flame, is it?). If you happen to pop in, and I have misunderstood, correct me here at your leisure. I would rather not be a “sample” on your site, however, as I’m not really making a play for points, hits, or such. See Daddy, not tip jar, advert space (for my profit), or anything. You are just well enough know among my few readers to be a target. If you happen to stop in to check the fuss. Hello. And, you are still wrong about that.
Oh, right, distractions. Love them. I think a truck went by, then a car in the other direction, both to the east, the car heading north. Then, hmmm, I think that must be a work vehicle beeping as it backs up in the swamp to my west, as trash pick up day there is Monday, and soda delivery for their machines happened only a few days ago. It is even worse when the windows are open and the ac is not on.
Oh, I am expecting Tiger Lily. I do not know why. Since I cannot get ahold of her, I cannot be sure. Though I do not think she wishes to do the favor, I know she needs certain things here, including her laundry and the turkey. She is being odd. Maybe she realizes nothing really will ever be there between us, that I cannot even see her that way anymore in truth. Maybe as I am becoming functional, active, and thinning, something is happening in her machine. Maybe I am just realizing she has always actually hated me and been trying to cause my fall and only comes by to try and hurt me, get what she can for free, and be the real (and as always liberal) Ugly American. Anyway, she has been weird. Then again, maybe she has found my blog and read something in there she cannot talk about, either because it is too true or because she sees it as so incorrect nothing can be done for it.. How would I really know what a cat thinks anyway? I think I understood my feline cat better than this feminine one.
Sleep deprivation is a wonderful thing and a pain. It is to psychic wanderings what dusk is to shadows, it is an amplifier. Shadows are significant to ghosts, and sometimes, deep enough in them, I am unsure if shadows are all I have or more, all that I am. Does any of that make any sense whatsoever? Then again, what are you but a more or less distinct shadow, here, now?
I did not do dishes, I will not be doing bread, I am not sure what I will be doing. Too tired to go anywhere, do much, concentrate, and yet I cannot sleep. It took me fours hours to finally push this out of my mind. ugh
I know I am putting together an essay which will be controversial. Perhaps the thoughts whirling around those issues are like bees in my breeches. Or perhaps just the writing process itself, choosing the right words, deciding how to express my thoughts most poignantly, making sure the essay, from whole to paragraph to sentence to clause makes sense, is connected within and without those structures, and concludes simply. Staying on track seems to be difficult for me. Oh, did you see that? I can be writing and then, it is 9:25 here and now, be distracted by, Rocky sure was hungry, I am surprised those last three fish are still alive, whatever passes before my eyes, into my ears, activates my other sensory receptors, or even non-sensory events such as premonitions, emotions, or metabolic changes. Ah yes, the patch is troubling. I have nothing to chew or smoke, and that is a part of it. Now would be a good time to nail my foot to the floor. What was that about, should your hand lead you to sin, better to lop it off and barbeque it rather than smoke forever? Well, you know what I mean.
I tried to call Tiger Lily, but her phone is shut off. I hope she is getting sleep, by my suspicion says not. She is probably off working in her rich friend’s yard. Pulling invasive species. I haven’t yet asked if she will get to the Mexicans next, or if she is still too busy with Europeans. I think it would be lost on her, and she would then just think I hate Mexicans. Well, yes and no, the people could be fine but the action is not. Their illegal nature makes like or dislike irrelevant. Half of my adopted family IS Mexican, legally born here, some here before Europeans. My birth parents were a little under half native American. As such, if she wants to be technical in her libcrat way, I want her AND the Mexicans out. Conservative European descendents can stay though. Well, conservative Christian Europeans can stay. They produce more than hot air and theories about it. Or, their hot air productions end in toys, foods, and neat stuff. Or, their hot air does not come with bad breath, drug dulled minds, and a death wish they would like to share with all others. Similar with the Mexicans, if they are functionally productive, ask to enter and receive that grant, and do not commit crimes, cool. The rest must go back to the socialism that spawned them and their nature, and their desire to come here. Let them fix their problems in their own land rather than bringing them here and helping to expand our similar problem until we are just another Mexico. Did you realize they have the same per capita GDP as we do? I do not care if Vox Day says there is no real basis for GDP as a functional gauge of the economy, I say otherwise. It may be an imperfect tool, it’s only a four pound hammer where a ten pound sledge might be better, but it’ll do in enough cases for my purposes.
Vox, invoking your name will possibly catch your eye (wreathed in flame, is it?). If you happen to pop in, and I have misunderstood, correct me here at your leisure. I would rather not be a “sample” on your site, however, as I’m not really making a play for points, hits, or such. See Daddy, not tip jar, advert space (for my profit), or anything. You are just well enough know among my few readers to be a target. If you happen to stop in to check the fuss. Hello. And, you are still wrong about that.
Oh, right, distractions. Love them. I think a truck went by, then a car in the other direction, both to the east, the car heading north. Then, hmmm, I think that must be a work vehicle beeping as it backs up in the swamp to my west, as trash pick up day there is Monday, and soda delivery for their machines happened only a few days ago. It is even worse when the windows are open and the ac is not on.
Oh, I am expecting Tiger Lily. I do not know why. Since I cannot get ahold of her, I cannot be sure. Though I do not think she wishes to do the favor, I know she needs certain things here, including her laundry and the turkey. She is being odd. Maybe she realizes nothing really will ever be there between us, that I cannot even see her that way anymore in truth. Maybe as I am becoming functional, active, and thinning, something is happening in her machine. Maybe I am just realizing she has always actually hated me and been trying to cause my fall and only comes by to try and hurt me, get what she can for free, and be the real (and as always liberal) Ugly American. Anyway, she has been weird. Then again, maybe she has found my blog and read something in there she cannot talk about, either because it is too true or because she sees it as so incorrect nothing can be done for it.. How would I really know what a cat thinks anyway? I think I understood my feline cat better than this feminine one.
Sleep deprivation is a wonderful thing and a pain. It is to psychic wanderings what dusk is to shadows, it is an amplifier. Shadows are significant to ghosts, and sometimes, deep enough in them, I am unsure if shadows are all I have or more, all that I am. Does any of that make any sense whatsoever? Then again, what are you but a more or less distinct shadow, here, now?
I did not do dishes, I will not be doing bread, I am not sure what I will be doing. Too tired to go anywhere, do much, concentrate, and yet I cannot sleep. It took me fours hours to finally push this out of my mind. ugh
Thursday, July 12, 2007
A day half done, a man well pleased. I might even deserve a Snicker's bar.
I visited the neighbors today. I had seen them, all of them, return. Mom and the new baby have been away for several days, and Dad has been scarce. I let them settle in for a bit, then grabbed a couple of loaves and out I went. She looks a great deal better. I could see the toll of carrying and intermittent labor events coupled with an inability to sleep had been having on her prior to delivery, and for a couple of weeks I should think. She looks rested and relaxed, though I am sure she is not full up to speed, and with the care and feeding, they are not going to be settled for a bit. He had just put the little one to rest, so I did not get to meet my newest neighbor. In time. Oh, he suggest we might get to fishing this coming Monday. The older young ones need to get out of the house, where they have been bound for a while, and I think Mom would like a little peace and quiet. hehehe Yep, it works.
During my visit, I had discussed some of things I have been doing and have planned. And it occurred to me that it had been some time since I had been to the path. So, I suggested I might do that today. He wants to see that area too. I suggested if he or he and the boys go along, that swim trunks might not be a bad plan. I do not know if that will work out, but it would be good. I really want to figure out how to do a swim after my hikes, securely, singularly, though. I sort of think the wife will be asking him to get out more, now that she has delivered, with the boys. Fishing and target practice should be starting back up a bit more.
Good to my word, I grabbed a few things, some of which will now be permanent pieces for my vehicle; a dry bag with several sets of clothes, a pair of dry boots, a towel, and some other things, a couple of blankets, and though they are not there yet, a couple of old pillows which I need to find old pillow cases for before putting in the machine. I should also begin a search for a water container for out there too. It will get hot, but when you are thirsty, and it is dirty suspect water or warmish sure water, that choice is easy. Yes, I am rigging the machine to be an all week’er, or more. In time, it will be.
My lady friend was busy with major laundry, the type that requires front load machines, so she was at the Laundromat today. I had hoped she would stop by, but then I was not exactly well and truly awake, and she was busy. I am hoping she will stop tomorrow. She has laundry here to take home, turkey parted out for her, and I have asked for a minor favor. We will see, but I really do hope she arrives soon.
Yes, ok, I probably will get the kitchen back in order today. I liked that bread so much, I want to make another batch, maybe two, in the next few days. I would like to be able to bake two for the new neighbors, delivering it when they are moved in and while the bread is still warm. So, it behooves me to get going on that. I think I will hold off on playing with the Dyna-Flex for a few days, however. It was all fun and games, but I am getting a bit too sore, I believe. No serious pain, just some limits and crankiness in needed muscles. And, I will probably get back to writing again. I had written part of the story ahead, in a flow that was incredible. I probably wrote five or six pages in a few hours at most. I thought about going on, as it was just working, but the hour had grown late and I had only intended to attempt to edit some things. Beautiful, now if I could get it to work when I want it to. Ha, every writer, great or small, probably wishes that. I think I will grab a turkey drumstick, a glass of iced tea, and something else I have not yet decided.
Oh, no more pipe. I smoked the last of it last eve, and am back on the patch. Trust me, I searched high and low for one more puff. The patch is working, though I am a bit fidgety. That is good, up to a point. So far, so good, as far as that goes.
During my visit, I had discussed some of things I have been doing and have planned. And it occurred to me that it had been some time since I had been to the path. So, I suggested I might do that today. He wants to see that area too. I suggested if he or he and the boys go along, that swim trunks might not be a bad plan. I do not know if that will work out, but it would be good. I really want to figure out how to do a swim after my hikes, securely, singularly, though. I sort of think the wife will be asking him to get out more, now that she has delivered, with the boys. Fishing and target practice should be starting back up a bit more.
Good to my word, I grabbed a few things, some of which will now be permanent pieces for my vehicle; a dry bag with several sets of clothes, a pair of dry boots, a towel, and some other things, a couple of blankets, and though they are not there yet, a couple of old pillows which I need to find old pillow cases for before putting in the machine. I should also begin a search for a water container for out there too. It will get hot, but when you are thirsty, and it is dirty suspect water or warmish sure water, that choice is easy. Yes, I am rigging the machine to be an all week’er, or more. In time, it will be.
My lady friend was busy with major laundry, the type that requires front load machines, so she was at the Laundromat today. I had hoped she would stop by, but then I was not exactly well and truly awake, and she was busy. I am hoping she will stop tomorrow. She has laundry here to take home, turkey parted out for her, and I have asked for a minor favor. We will see, but I really do hope she arrives soon.
Yes, ok, I probably will get the kitchen back in order today. I liked that bread so much, I want to make another batch, maybe two, in the next few days. I would like to be able to bake two for the new neighbors, delivering it when they are moved in and while the bread is still warm. So, it behooves me to get going on that. I think I will hold off on playing with the Dyna-Flex for a few days, however. It was all fun and games, but I am getting a bit too sore, I believe. No serious pain, just some limits and crankiness in needed muscles. And, I will probably get back to writing again. I had written part of the story ahead, in a flow that was incredible. I probably wrote five or six pages in a few hours at most. I thought about going on, as it was just working, but the hour had grown late and I had only intended to attempt to edit some things. Beautiful, now if I could get it to work when I want it to. Ha, every writer, great or small, probably wishes that. I think I will grab a turkey drumstick, a glass of iced tea, and something else I have not yet decided.
Oh, no more pipe. I smoked the last of it last eve, and am back on the patch. Trust me, I searched high and low for one more puff. The patch is working, though I am a bit fidgety. That is good, up to a point. So far, so good, as far as that goes.
It will be a slow day, it seems.
I awoke a bit late, not until 10:30 the first time, and then probably because of a phone call. My friend must have just noticed that I called, but it was from last night when her phone was off. I’ve noticed my phone is problematic lately too, so I am going to have to track down the number we need to dial to update our phone’s software. Blasted things, still they have their points.
After that little excursion into awake land, I retreated back to dreamscape. I am just rising for the day at 14:30. It is not a grand start or a fast start, either. I did a good deal yesterday, barely having time to put out the posts I did and the responses on other blogs. I certainly felt rushed and under the gun most of the day. Listening to Marty Robins all day probably did not help that last.
I am unsure about my plans today. The dishes sit where they lay and I have no interest in that situation presently, though that may change. I still would like to get to mowing later in the evening, the eastern neighbors might be moving some stuff today, my southern neighbors need to be contacted. College could be investigated. I just do not know for sure what will get done and what I would like to do.
After that little excursion into awake land, I retreated back to dreamscape. I am just rising for the day at 14:30. It is not a grand start or a fast start, either. I did a good deal yesterday, barely having time to put out the posts I did and the responses on other blogs. I certainly felt rushed and under the gun most of the day. Listening to Marty Robins all day probably did not help that last.
I am unsure about my plans today. The dishes sit where they lay and I have no interest in that situation presently, though that may change. I still would like to get to mowing later in the evening, the eastern neighbors might be moving some stuff today, my southern neighbors need to be contacted. College could be investigated. I just do not know for sure what will get done and what I would like to do.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
The Thought Traveler: A Tale of Mischief, Wonder, and Woe. Part VI
At the top of these stairs, Isabelle sneaks up behind me on the stairs, then passes me and heads on up to the third floor. I have gotten used to her, and she rarely sneaks up on me now. She is a part of the place, one that I know. I listen closely as I begin my circuit. No sound or irregularity disturb my work through the first six places. I enter the second to the last on this floor, and begin my usual room check. In the second room I freeze, I see something unusual. I cannot make it out. I cannot tell if this is a person in a blanket like robe, an item that is covered, or something else. It did not move when I opened the door nor is there a sound.
I go into a comfortable squat, quietly easy my pistol to the ready, and watch. After a half hour, I decide I must do something. But what, speak, approach, or use another item to test or manipulate what I am seeing? I creep a little closer and a bit to the left, hoping to find a better angle with which to see more clearly what is before me. The mysterious item moves!
The top most part of it turns in my direction, and a night blind faces looks toward me, eyes wide in fear, in a place which would be hidden if not for the goggles. “Do not hurt me.” “Please.” She does not appear to be more than in her late teens or early twenties. I assure her of my intent. I ask if she will answer some question. “Yes.” Who are you, my name is Jeff I say. “Uhm, I am Cindy”. Are there others here, others you know of or work with? “No. Well, there are others, but I do not know them. I just hear them from time to time. I stay hidden here.” What are you doing for food? “Oh, I stocked up shortly before everyone else left. And, I had a key to a friends apartment. I do not know what happened to her, but her food was there and I brought that here as well. I am running out though.” I explain that I am scavenging myself, as the stores have become too dangerous to plunder. I suggest we might be able to work together. I then ask why she did not leave, herself. “My car was stolen, and I did not know what else to do. As you probably know, the phones do not work, and the few times I have tried the radio, I have found nothing but static.” Yes, trapped. Though I am not sure that is the most accurate, I could leave but I am not sure there is anywhere to go. I certainly will not let her know, however.
I let her know she is free to go or stay. She now knows I have the keys, so if she decides not to trust me, when I leave it might be a good time to exit the building and find her own way to another secure location, or take her chances attempting to do so. She indicates she will stay, so I suggest she lock the door behind me anyway. Since we do not know who the others are, maybe she has only been kept safe because her door has been locked and they did not have the keys. If it is I who am returning with the keys, I will tap three times, pause, and tap three more times, before unlocking the door. Use the chain as well. If this is not done by someone attempting to unlock the door, be over by the fire escape and take it, quietly, closing the window behind you if you can. You will be on your own in that case. It will mean whoever else here is aggressive and has overpowered me.
I leave the woman behind and begin my search. She is only sure they are on this or the floor above, none on the first floor, so I begin searching each apartment, rather than just the select that had been on my list, and carefully. This is now tight work. Having a potential dependent does not sit well with me either. I could always just unlock her door without tapping. No, I guess that just is not how I do things. If she does not work as a helper, however, I do not feel obliged to care for her beyond a little food, a wave, and a “Good luck”.
I go into a comfortable squat, quietly easy my pistol to the ready, and watch. After a half hour, I decide I must do something. But what, speak, approach, or use another item to test or manipulate what I am seeing? I creep a little closer and a bit to the left, hoping to find a better angle with which to see more clearly what is before me. The mysterious item moves!
The top most part of it turns in my direction, and a night blind faces looks toward me, eyes wide in fear, in a place which would be hidden if not for the goggles. “Do not hurt me.” “Please.” She does not appear to be more than in her late teens or early twenties. I assure her of my intent. I ask if she will answer some question. “Yes.” Who are you, my name is Jeff I say. “Uhm, I am Cindy”. Are there others here, others you know of or work with? “No. Well, there are others, but I do not know them. I just hear them from time to time. I stay hidden here.” What are you doing for food? “Oh, I stocked up shortly before everyone else left. And, I had a key to a friends apartment. I do not know what happened to her, but her food was there and I brought that here as well. I am running out though.” I explain that I am scavenging myself, as the stores have become too dangerous to plunder. I suggest we might be able to work together. I then ask why she did not leave, herself. “My car was stolen, and I did not know what else to do. As you probably know, the phones do not work, and the few times I have tried the radio, I have found nothing but static.” Yes, trapped. Though I am not sure that is the most accurate, I could leave but I am not sure there is anywhere to go. I certainly will not let her know, however.
I let her know she is free to go or stay. She now knows I have the keys, so if she decides not to trust me, when I leave it might be a good time to exit the building and find her own way to another secure location, or take her chances attempting to do so. She indicates she will stay, so I suggest she lock the door behind me anyway. Since we do not know who the others are, maybe she has only been kept safe because her door has been locked and they did not have the keys. If it is I who am returning with the keys, I will tap three times, pause, and tap three more times, before unlocking the door. Use the chain as well. If this is not done by someone attempting to unlock the door, be over by the fire escape and take it, quietly, closing the window behind you if you can. You will be on your own in that case. It will mean whoever else here is aggressive and has overpowered me.
I leave the woman behind and begin my search. She is only sure they are on this or the floor above, none on the first floor, so I begin searching each apartment, rather than just the select that had been on my list, and carefully. This is now tight work. Having a potential dependent does not sit well with me either. I could always just unlock her door without tapping. No, I guess that just is not how I do things. If she does not work as a helper, however, I do not feel obliged to care for her beyond a little food, a wave, and a “Good luck”.
Burned another one. Oh, another day that is.
The turkey turned out quite well. I was pleased with it. She ended up arriving quite late, so she brought only broccoli and a cucumber, which was fine. I produced a pan gravy, as the bird remained in the roaster, in the oven, on low. Firstly, I wished to keep it warm, lastly, it was a 23 pound bird so I wouldn’t have had a place for it anywhere anyway, at least until it was pieced down. Finally, there was the bread. It was quite good. I do believe even I liked the whole wheat mix better than the all white (non-bleached, as she probably would not have eaten it otherwise). She was happy with the meal. As a matter of fact, she acted a bit strange. She nearly kept it hidden, but I could have sworn I almost saw a tear. Who knows, it might just have been a fluke non-thing from just waking up, having nothing to do with anything but other thoughts in her head. Though, that is not my suspicion.
I have three loaves I will be handing out tomorrow. Probably to my southern neighbors as my eastern neighbors, by the sound of it, will not be actually moving in, only moving some things in. I have not yet met her boyfriend or child, and I am a little anxious. A move by August would be difficult. But if my landlord saw fit to introduce trouble here, he will just have to find some other renter to enjoy it. We will see, I suppose.
While I have been trying to quit chewing tobacco, I had to stop the patch, if temporarily. Though I was out of that tobacco, I still had pipe tobacco. I had started smoking it, while on the patch, and decided to either throw the tobacco away or halt the patch until that tobacco, too, was gone. You know, I just hate to waste (he’s lying). As well, there is much less nicotine in pipe tobacco and it is not inhaled, so it even less nicotine presenting (he’s fibbing). I am out, or will be by the end of the night, so, tomorrow, back on the patch (he’s telling the truth).
Of course, one of the good things that came about with this has been standing outside often. I stand or sit outside as I will not smoke in my apartment. I learned I actually enjoy being out, for spots at a time, in the sun and heat. A glass of ice tea or water, a bit of an eye on the neighborhood, and some “fresh air”. Now that the pipe is about done, I may continue this. Though I have a fancier design in mind. I spotted a little table and chairs, cast iron, with a greenish antique look which provides a place for an umbrella, and of course, an umbrella for it, the large outdoor bistro type. Yeah, I know, money and all, but… In honesty, I guess as long as I am staying up and busy, I will not be able to count pennies quite so easily.
I have also been working a great deal with a little hand held work out device. It is called a Dyno-Flex. I have the smallest of the lot. It produces about 25 pounds of force, when one finally learns how to work it. Beautiful little toy, actually. I know, in time, I will eventually be getting it’s bigger 40 pound force brother, and maybe even it’s 220 pound gorilla cousin. The Obfusticattor will get this one, as she actually has an interest. It is tightening up my arms amazingly well. I have been using it every time I go out for “fresh air”, so long as I am getting “fresh air”, I keep the thing in motion. My left arm is weaker, but I am attempting to even that out while adding some skills to that left arm. It has been used several hours a day, about a half an hour at a time, for the last three days or more. Perhaps I can get a little regimen going when I actually begin taking in fresh air.
Well, now to do some cleaning. I actually did a fairly good job of not having much of a mess. Of course, one does not cut a 23 pound turkey without some mess. And, of course, several pans where used for various other things. Oh, and the dishes, plates, silver ware, and every little other thing that is used, touched, over, and under the rest. Then again, the turkey may get set to storage, along with other foods, everything then rinsed and either soaked or set aside, and that final job be left for a new day (he’s thinking Friday, mayhap Saturday, do not be fooled into thinking tomorrow IS that new day).
Oh, ok, fine. I will put out today’s installment for those diehards. Ha! Tac eht llik, tac eht llik llik llik. hehehe
I have three loaves I will be handing out tomorrow. Probably to my southern neighbors as my eastern neighbors, by the sound of it, will not be actually moving in, only moving some things in. I have not yet met her boyfriend or child, and I am a little anxious. A move by August would be difficult. But if my landlord saw fit to introduce trouble here, he will just have to find some other renter to enjoy it. We will see, I suppose.
While I have been trying to quit chewing tobacco, I had to stop the patch, if temporarily. Though I was out of that tobacco, I still had pipe tobacco. I had started smoking it, while on the patch, and decided to either throw the tobacco away or halt the patch until that tobacco, too, was gone. You know, I just hate to waste (he’s lying). As well, there is much less nicotine in pipe tobacco and it is not inhaled, so it even less nicotine presenting (he’s fibbing). I am out, or will be by the end of the night, so, tomorrow, back on the patch (he’s telling the truth).
Of course, one of the good things that came about with this has been standing outside often. I stand or sit outside as I will not smoke in my apartment. I learned I actually enjoy being out, for spots at a time, in the sun and heat. A glass of ice tea or water, a bit of an eye on the neighborhood, and some “fresh air”. Now that the pipe is about done, I may continue this. Though I have a fancier design in mind. I spotted a little table and chairs, cast iron, with a greenish antique look which provides a place for an umbrella, and of course, an umbrella for it, the large outdoor bistro type. Yeah, I know, money and all, but… In honesty, I guess as long as I am staying up and busy, I will not be able to count pennies quite so easily.
I have also been working a great deal with a little hand held work out device. It is called a Dyno-Flex. I have the smallest of the lot. It produces about 25 pounds of force, when one finally learns how to work it. Beautiful little toy, actually. I know, in time, I will eventually be getting it’s bigger 40 pound force brother, and maybe even it’s 220 pound gorilla cousin. The Obfusticattor will get this one, as she actually has an interest. It is tightening up my arms amazingly well. I have been using it every time I go out for “fresh air”, so long as I am getting “fresh air”, I keep the thing in motion. My left arm is weaker, but I am attempting to even that out while adding some skills to that left arm. It has been used several hours a day, about a half an hour at a time, for the last three days or more. Perhaps I can get a little regimen going when I actually begin taking in fresh air.
Well, now to do some cleaning. I actually did a fairly good job of not having much of a mess. Of course, one does not cut a 23 pound turkey without some mess. And, of course, several pans where used for various other things. Oh, and the dishes, plates, silver ware, and every little other thing that is used, touched, over, and under the rest. Then again, the turkey may get set to storage, along with other foods, everything then rinsed and either soaked or set aside, and that final job be left for a new day (he’s thinking Friday, mayhap Saturday, do not be fooled into thinking tomorrow IS that new day).
Oh, ok, fine. I will put out today’s installment for those diehards. Ha! Tac eht llik, tac eht llik llik llik. hehehe
We are really cooking with oil now. I am just hoping a spark does not excite the times more.
Wow, busy, and more, even more busy. Busy on top of complicated right next to managing befoulment. What is the Ogre going on about, you ask. Well, I woke relatively early this morning, after finally crawling to bed quite late. It seems the Q.O.D. had some laundering tasks. She had just arrived, so I suspect even her sneaky attempt at being quiet was what woke me. We talk a bit, then she has to go do some things. She is unhappy with being so late, here, or on her return, I cannot remember. I never can tell what she is going on about when she gets this way and my brain has not followed my corpse into wakefulness. Well, no bother, I have a few things I would like to check, so I bypass my ears and start talking until she realizes she is unheard. With a little surprise, she notices me and begins to listen. Big eyes unsure if I am in the wrong for this, or if she has been being a twit. Not my thing, so I pass on and begin feeding her ears and brain.
Would you like turkey this evening? I could happily have it prepared for supper. “Oh, certainly, I think”. What time would you enjoy a thanksgiving and breaking of bread? “I suppose 21:00 would be sufficient”, she say. “Hmm, could you finish up my laundry, since you had wet stuff in the dryer? I am late, too late for *mumble*, and I am tired, so I want to go to bed”. You know I will do this, sure. So, she does a little this and that and flits like the hummingbird she reminds me off, and out the door she goes.
*ring* *buzz* Hello. “Pick up some corn, and would you like broccoli or *some other vegetable, I cannot remember now*, or both”? Huh? I am still not awake, mind you. I was happy to hear the phone, watch it vibe, AND realize I should answer it. You want what, or something (I am really good with words right now too!). “Yes, get corn, it should be on the corner. As I pass it, I will let you know if the vender is there. Nope, he is not there. So, which of those first two vegetables do you want”? Huh? Both (I lie sort of, I have no idea what she will be bringing, though I do want both of them). Will they be ready? “No, you will have to cook them”. Doh! I really say. No, will they be prepped. That would be good, as I’ve got a number of things going on. “Ok, sure”. Well, I do not say it, but… we will see.
So, I do this and that for a bit, decide how long the turkey will take, get cracking on setting up my work area, and look at the time. Ha, just enough time to do a batch of bread! This time I will try 1/3 cracked wheat flower. So, after all is ready, I begin that. The landlord knocks and we go out by the garage and speak. I let him know the tenant had stopped by, asking for his cel phone number, as his home phone is going unanswered. I had not been able to find it. He then tells me he had his son leave the keys in the garage, their side. I have the key to that garage, for the lawnmower, snow blower, and gas. However, half of any equation never works, so they went without the key for several days. *sigh* And, as we are out there, the other garage door is opened. We find it falling apart. Odd, mine too is problematic. We are having a difficulty. I believe we are going to need to get brand new locks for out there. My doors are find though, as I changed those myself most recently. No sets of keys for my place floating around. And, I am almost always home. It would not be good to enter should I be awake, worse should I be sleeping. I know she is here before she gets here usually. Should I not know who is here, things would get broken. Probably not dead, but totally disabled for the rest of their life and understanding fear, terror of death, horror at pain, I would leave them where I live. Most will not make it, and I am good with that. The tenant arrives, we all talk a bit, I offer my hand in helping her and her guy move in, tell her she may get some bread tomorrow, then excuse myself for that very reason. So much time has passed, I have to crack the whip to get it back, but this I do. However, I will not be able to get bread baked BEFORE the turkey needs to go in. Drats and daggnabbit too!
Supper in a few hours, laundry yet to get to, bread rising, vegetables to be steamed, gravy to be made, and I had hoped to do half of the lawn tonight, but urhm, not so much now. Other than that, not much going on in my littleverse. Oh, shoot, I had hoped to get to the wall tonight! *grumble, garbled things, and a few cusses* I will eat well. I flee to finish, start, and do a few middling steps.
Would you like turkey this evening? I could happily have it prepared for supper. “Oh, certainly, I think”. What time would you enjoy a thanksgiving and breaking of bread? “I suppose 21:00 would be sufficient”, she say. “Hmm, could you finish up my laundry, since you had wet stuff in the dryer? I am late, too late for *mumble*, and I am tired, so I want to go to bed”. You know I will do this, sure. So, she does a little this and that and flits like the hummingbird she reminds me off, and out the door she goes.
*ring* *buzz* Hello. “Pick up some corn, and would you like broccoli or *some other vegetable, I cannot remember now*, or both”? Huh? I am still not awake, mind you. I was happy to hear the phone, watch it vibe, AND realize I should answer it. You want what, or something (I am really good with words right now too!). “Yes, get corn, it should be on the corner. As I pass it, I will let you know if the vender is there. Nope, he is not there. So, which of those first two vegetables do you want”? Huh? Both (I lie sort of, I have no idea what she will be bringing, though I do want both of them). Will they be ready? “No, you will have to cook them”. Doh! I really say. No, will they be prepped. That would be good, as I’ve got a number of things going on. “Ok, sure”. Well, I do not say it, but… we will see.
So, I do this and that for a bit, decide how long the turkey will take, get cracking on setting up my work area, and look at the time. Ha, just enough time to do a batch of bread! This time I will try 1/3 cracked wheat flower. So, after all is ready, I begin that. The landlord knocks and we go out by the garage and speak. I let him know the tenant had stopped by, asking for his cel phone number, as his home phone is going unanswered. I had not been able to find it. He then tells me he had his son leave the keys in the garage, their side. I have the key to that garage, for the lawnmower, snow blower, and gas. However, half of any equation never works, so they went without the key for several days. *sigh* And, as we are out there, the other garage door is opened. We find it falling apart. Odd, mine too is problematic. We are having a difficulty. I believe we are going to need to get brand new locks for out there. My doors are find though, as I changed those myself most recently. No sets of keys for my place floating around. And, I am almost always home. It would not be good to enter should I be awake, worse should I be sleeping. I know she is here before she gets here usually. Should I not know who is here, things would get broken. Probably not dead, but totally disabled for the rest of their life and understanding fear, terror of death, horror at pain, I would leave them where I live. Most will not make it, and I am good with that. The tenant arrives, we all talk a bit, I offer my hand in helping her and her guy move in, tell her she may get some bread tomorrow, then excuse myself for that very reason. So much time has passed, I have to crack the whip to get it back, but this I do. However, I will not be able to get bread baked BEFORE the turkey needs to go in. Drats and daggnabbit too!
Supper in a few hours, laundry yet to get to, bread rising, vegetables to be steamed, gravy to be made, and I had hoped to do half of the lawn tonight, but urhm, not so much now. Other than that, not much going on in my littleverse. Oh, shoot, I had hoped to get to the wall tonight! *grumble, garbled things, and a few cusses* I will eat well. I flee to finish, start, and do a few middling steps.
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