The End of the Year

The end of anything, especially a year, is a good time for reflection, so here are some Random Thoughts.

It was a good year to remember the past...how I found my lovely wife, how my family grew, how it is still growing, how I miss distant friends and family, and how I really dislike cats most of the time. :)

It was a good year for watching Violet grow and seeing the Athens branch of the family move to a new home. I had my doubts when I first saw Old Haggard, but on reflection, it was a good move. My prayers for a wonderful future in the old house are constant for Jon, Missy, and Violet.

It was a good year for growing closer to all of my children. Events have led to closer relationships with Bob and his family, Sandy and her wonderful bunch of guys, Gretchen and her mystery guest, and, of course, Jon and his crew. Closer is good.

It was a good year to re-discover a new hobby. I really enjoy hanging out at the range. More closeness with my sons and son-in-law is a good byproduct. The guys at the range are good folks, too.

It was a good year to reinforce my suspicion of cats. Gizmo and Gracie are a constant source of puzzlement. Maybe I give cats too much credit for intelligence, but I cannot help but wonder what makes them tick.

It was a good year to see the extended family and a good chunk of America. My three weeks in the Jeep traveling to Ohio, Michigan, Montana, and Missouri were exceptional for the places, people, and friends I saw along the way. Thank you all for being part of my life.

It was a good year for almost everything I attempted. I am truly blessed.

It was a good year to reflect on the things I learned from my father. He would have been 88 today. Thanks, Dad, you made me the man I am. You're missed on a daily basis.

It was a good year to look forward to more time with family and friends.

I hope 2009 will be as good for you as 2008 was for me.

Home, Home on the Range

Warning: Gun Stuff follows.

The post-Christmas cleanup was just about over, and Bob had a new pistol that he really wanted to shoot, so I invited him to join Jon and myself for our Friday-during-the-lunch-hour session at the Firing Lane. In keeping with my theory that "if some is good, and more is better, then too much is just enough", I invited Slade to join us, too.

As with most things I try to organize, it got bigger than I expected. Bob invited Jerry, who had never shot his Glock, and Kevin, who also had a .40 that needed exercise.

I brought my .45 SW1911, .45 Colt Uberti Cattleman, the H&R Sportsman, and the Ciener .22 conversion for the 1911. Jon brought his Ruger 22/45, Bob his FNP-45, and Slade his PT1911 and a really nifty modified Ruger 22/45.

We took turns shooting everything in turn, and soon were about ankle deep in spent brass, shredded targets, and empty cartridge boxes. Between all the guns we probably put over 1,000 bullets into the sand at the end of the three lanes we had assigned.

The hit of the day had to be Slade's .22 Ruger. It had an aluminum upper and a (legal) suppressor on it. The loudest sound from the thing was the noise of the bolt clanking back and forth. Pretty cool.

To say that a good time was had by all might be a bit of an understatement.

Sunday, I was back. Sandy and Slade had given me a gift certificate to rent a "machine gun", so I gave Slade a call and arranged to meet him at 2:00 PM. On the way, I got a call saying Slade had been called to do something with the Sheriff's Office, and he would have to work. I went anyway, and shot up a couple of hundred rounds of .45 ACP. As I was leaving the semi-soundproofed part of the range, I saw Slade in the lobby. His work had gone quickly.

Not being one to turn my back on good fortune, we went to the counter and got checked out on the H&K MP-5, picked up a couple of Osama bin Ladin targets and 3 boxes of 9mm ammo. Back in the range area, we settled into my lane, and started loading the magazine. In the lane to my right, a young man was trying to teach his wife/girlfriend to shoot. We sort of interrupted his instruction when the MP-5 threw a stream of spent 9mm brass over the partition between lanes.

By the time Slade and I had finished with the 3 boxes of ammo, we were performing for about a dozen people. Nobody left the range with a frown on their face.

I think the next time, I'll rent the M-3 Grease Gun. :)

Christmas Is For Children...

...and there were a bunch of them at our house on Christmas Eve. The pictures are of the newest member of our extended family, the Christmas tree with about 50% of the loot on display, and "The Older Children".

Marilyn and "the world's oldest 12-year old" (that would be me) were host to Bob, Laura, Sara, Slade, Sandy, Tyler, Sam, Gretchen, Jon, Missy, and Violet. Marilyn did her usual great job of cooking ham, hash brown casserole, green beans, and an assortment of snacks and desserts that would put me in the hospital if I ate them on a regular basis.

There were gifts galore, and everyone had a great time spreading wrapping paper around the lower levels of the house. My wonderful wife gave me a couple of beautiful sports jackets, I gave her a pair of diamond and sapphire earrings, but the hit gift of the night must have been Violet's red car.

There must have been 50 miles put on the thing doing laps of the front hall, living room, dining room, and kitchen.

It was a good time, and I want to thank all of you for being my family.

To quote Peter Pan, "I won't grow up!" It would ruin Christmas, and I'm not ready for that.

Be well.

For Unto Us

Luke 2

The Birth of Jesus

1In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. 2(This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) 3And everyone went to his own town to register.
4So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. 5He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. 6While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, 7and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

The Shepherds and the Angels

8And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. 9An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. 11Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ[a] the Lord. 12This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."
13Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,
14"Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests."

15When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let's go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about."

16So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. 17When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, 18and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. 19But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. 20The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.

NIV

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God Bless Us, Every One. - Charles Dickens

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In the rush to get all the presents wrapped, cookies baked, and hams cooked we often forget the real gift we celebrate at Christmas. I just want to remind every one who reads this that Christ was, is, and will always be the greatest gift ever given.

Wishing everyone a Merry, Christ filled, Christmas from The Road Less Traveled.

The Day The Cat Stood Still

It's been an interesting morning, so far. I awoke to a dream of being in a "magic fingers" bed. It was actually Wally chasing some critter in his fur at the foot of the bed. After a cup of coffee, I turned on the TV to one of the old movie channels, and was met by Jill St.John in pink stretch pants and red boots running from alligators with fins and horns glued to them. It was the 736th remake of "The Lost World".

While I was watching red-dyed oatmeal and dry ice (lava) consume a subterranean cave, I made the mistake of hanging my hand out of the recliner. Gracie attacked. One minute, I was watching a really bad movie, the next I was trying to pry 4 pounds of needle sharp claws off of my hand. The kitten plays rough.

Right now, on the TV, Michael Rennie and Gort are trying to convince the people of the world to just get along. More power to them.

Judging from the sounds coming from upstairs, "somebody" would appreciate it if I get off my butt and start getting ready for the hoard on Christmas Eve, so I'll let you all go for now.

Catu barada nikto.

Christmas Cake

Compliments of my friend Candace, who is currently freezing somewhere in rural Indiana.

Once again this holiday, I have had requests for my tequila Christmas cake so here goes:

1 cup sugar
1 tsp. baking powder
1 cup water
1 tsp. salt
1 cup brown sugar
Lemon juice
4 large eggs
Nuts
1 bottle tequila
2 cups dried fruit

Sample the tequila to check quality
Take a large bowl, check the tequila again to be sure it is of the highest quality.
Repeat.
Turn on the electric mixer. Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add 1 teaspoon of sugar. Beat again.
At this point, it is best to make sure the tequila is sstill OK. Try another cup just in case.
Turn off the mixerer thingy.
Break 2 legs and add to the bowl and chuck iin the cup of dried fruit.
Pick the fruit up off the floor.
Mix on the turner.
If the fried druit getas stuck in the beaterers, just pry it loose with a drewscriver.
Sample the tequila to test for tonsisticity.
Next, sift 2 cups of salt, or something.
Check the tequila.
Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts.
Add one table.
Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find.
Greash the oven.
Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over.
Don't forget to beat off the turner
Finally, throw the bowl through the window.
Finish the tequila and wipe the counter with the cat.
Cherry Christmas

Oh Christmas Cat, Oh Christmas Cat...

I am convinced that God put me on this planet to provide toys for my wife's cats.

Gracie has discovered the Christmas tree. I'm sure that the living ornament will be depressed when we take the thing down.

Stay well.

Not Bad for a Thursday

Yesterday was a fairly good Thursday.

The weather, unlike most of the country, was warm, if mostly cloudy, and my work day was short. I left early because my youngest son was being honored at his place of work as Employee of the Year.

The hospital where he is a department manager has 4 categories where they make the EOTY award on an annual basis. Jon was nominated in 3 of the 4 categories. According to his boss, they wanted to give him at least 2 of the awards, but had to pick other people for those categories. I guess they didn't want to retire the trophy.

I always knew Jon was an over-achiever. Despite the fact that he makes me look like a slacker [ :-) ], I'm very proud of him.

Congratulations, Jon, you've earned every bit of it and your Mom and I could not be more pleased for you.

Keep up the good work.

Happy Birthday Mom

I hope it's a great one.

Love you much.

And Happy Birthday Pablo, too.

A Few Notes on Sunday

It was a good one. Lots of family, felines, food, and fun.

Marilyn got jerked around a little by her work. She was scheduled to go in at 0800, but got called while she was getting ready, and wound up on call. At 1100 the call came in, and she put on her blue scrubs and did the mad dash to the hospital. About 2 minutes after she left, the third call from the hospital arrived: "Never mind, we don't really need you." So she left work, and went shopping. :)

While all of this was going on, I was wandering around Wal-Mart looking for necessary stuff. I brought it all home, and decided to take a nap. Dreary Sunday afternoons are good for something, after all.

Nap over, it was time to get cleaned up a little and go to the Christmas Musical at Bob and Laura's church. Laura sang, Sara was an angel. Actually, Sara was a Lead Angel. This gave her wings, and a halo. The plebeian angels just had white robes with gauzy stuff flowing behind. Bob was a wise (too many opportunities here) man. He looks good in purple, white, and sequins. :)

Church music has changed since I was a kid. Back in the middle ages, we had pipe organs, pianos and trumpets and flutes on Easter Sunday. The choir sang Bach and Handel. It takes a bit of mental re-threading for me to get into a church with electric guitars and drums where I thought there was supposed to be an altar. The one thing that both of these churches have in common is genuine praise. I've sensed the Spirit in every place I've been where people gather to worship.

He was certainly present last night. The music was wonderful, the kids performed with an innocent enthusiasm that was a joy to behold, and the congregation shared their enthusiasm.

Marilyn and I sat with Laura's Mom, and were soon joined by Jon, Missy, and Violet. Vi spent the hour that they were there walking across laps to visit with M and myself. She was into the music, dancing and clapping with the best of them.

A high point, for me, of the service was the "Cardboard Testaments" where various members of the congregation had written what their life was like before coming to faith one one side of a square of cardboard, and how it had changed afterward on the other side. I was awed by some of these simple statements of faith and the evidence of the power of God to change people's lives. I was especially touched by Laura's. It made me glad she chose us for her in-laws.

It was a good time, and good for me to have been there.

Crimma Prents...

...Or Christmas Presents, if your name isn't Ozzy.

There have been numerous complaints over the years that Marilyn and I are hard to buy for. The gripe is something along the lines of: "If Dad (or Mom) needs something, he goes out and buys it, and anything that I might give him won't express how I really feel."

Well, I'll let you in on a little secret. I do buy what I think I need, and I know how you feel, and am awed by it.

It really does not matter to me what the gift is if it's given in a spirit of love. I can only recall one gift in 60 Christmases that I thought was done out of necessity ("I've got to give him something, so I'll give him this!") rather than out of desire to please. (Stop worrying, it didn't come from any of you. :) ) Any gift at all is sure to be well thought out by the giver and appreciated well beyond what it cost by the recipient.

So kids, when I say "It doesn't matter" when you ask what I want for Christmas, know that I'm not blowing you off. It really does not matter to me, because I know that you all love Mom and I, and we love you and are glad that you're all part of our lives.

It may be frustrating, but that's the way it is.

The Weekend

It was a good one.

Friday I met Marilyn, Missy, and Violet for a great lunch at Cracker Barrel in Athens. I was about 15 minutes early, so I just bummed around the store for a while. I've come to the conclusion that Cracker Barrel has two things that I can appreciate: all of the old stuff in the ceiling and walls, and the food. The store has little to hold my attention.

When the girls arrived, Vi was asleep. She slept on my shoulder until the food came, woke up happy, and proceeded to engage in her favorite activity...eating. For being only 14 months old, that girl can pack away some groceries. Still, she's right where she should be weight-wise, so I guess it's all good.

After lunch, I visited my favorite place, and blew up about 100 rounds of .45 ACP, 50 of .45 Colt, and a couple of hundred rounds of .22 LR. I'm improving. Most of the shots went where I wanted them to go.

Following the range, it was home to sit with Sara, the Queen of the Known Universe, until her parents got off work. We had a nice visit, and she worked on her "I will not forget my homework" sentences that her Dad had assigned following a bout of voluntary amnesia.

Saturday dawned, gray and cold, so I bummed around the garage for a while, and discovered 4 nearly completed knives that I had started on about 3 years ago and set aside. A little sanding, polishing, and a couple of coats of Tru-Oil later, they had a nifty, durable finish on the handles, and I have 4 more projects. Now I get to make sheaths.

Sunday was a good day, too. Marilyn had worked until 0-dark-thirty this morning, and slept in, so I took advantage of the peace and quiet and read for a while. When Marilyn put in an appearance, and we had spent plenty of time telling all the animals that we still loved them, we went out for a late lunch at the new IHOP here in town. From there, we went to Lowe's and picked up a new, improved, Christmas tree, a Rosemary wreath, and a partridge in a pear tree. On the way home, we hit the Publix, picked up some groceries, and got home in time to cook supper, which should be done in a few minutes.

I hope y'all had just as good of a weekend as I did. I got do do a lot of things I like to do, see a lot of people who make me really glad to be alive, and spend some time with my wife. What more could a man ask for?

Like I've said before, I'm blessed.

With Apolgies to Trisha Yearwood...Or How I Met My Wife

Trisha Yearwood's latest, Grammy nominated album is "Heaven, Heartache, and the Power of Love", a phrase that pretty well sums up the last 40 or so years of my life.

In the fall of 1967, I was attending a small junior college in a smaller town in the Midwest. One of the highlights of life in that town was the annual Fall Festival, a kind of County Fair/Oktoberfest held in September when the weather was still decent enough to be on the street without a parka after dark. Since there was a) little traffic, and b) no place to set up a midway, the main street of the town was blocked off and sprouted carnival rides, food vendors, craft displays, and a stage for the country music performers.

My roommate and I decided that, being Friday, and seeing that we were tired of watching mildew grow on the grout in the dormitory bathroom, we would see what was happening downtown (a 3 minute walk from the dorm). (I told you it was a small town). We wandered around for a while, and he met up with a girl he knew. Marilyn was with her, and was the most beautiful young woman I had ever seen. The fact that she found the skinny, bespectacled, nerd that I was (and probably still am) interesting was icing on the cake. I was immediately smitten. I still am, and always will be.

So, you see, Marilyn and I are probably the only people you will ever meet who can say that they ran into the love of their life in the middle of Main Street...on foot. :)

Somehow, 42 years have passed, filled with triumphs, tragedies, gains, losses, children and grandchildren. Every event has been a blessing that has caused us to grow, but the one constant has been Marilyn and our love for each other. I don't want to contemplate life without her. This Summer, we will celebrate our 40th anniversary, and I'm planning on at least 20 more.

Marilyn, I love you, and always will. You make life worth living.

Bob

Darned Global Warming!

As I sit here at the beginning of December, it is 32 F outside (should be in the mid 50s), and -459.67 F here in the house. I am cold...absolutely cold.

I don't know whether it is that I'm trying to get a cold, or if the 45 pounds I dropped under threat of great bodily harm has slowed my metabolism to the point where I can't generate enough heat to keep myself from freezing.

Regardless, I am a Global Warming Skeptic. I do not believe that carbon dioxide is a pollutant, or that the activities of man can have more than a local effect on the weather. (I'm thinking of a LOD campfire.) I do not believe that Oil is bad. I do not believe that we all have to drive dinky little cars and live like third world serfs to save the planet.

What I do believe is that if there is a climate problem, there will be a concerted effort to correct it without "help" from our "exalted leaders" in that swamp between Maryland and Virginia. I believe that the motivation of a free market will create opportunities to solve the problem at a profit, and the market will find a way to solve whatever is wrong. If there is a demand for something, some entrepreneur will find a way to supply it without some corrupt politicians telling him how to build his solution.

I believe that we can correct our errors. I have seen it. I grew up in Cleveland, Ohio when the Cuyahoga River was prone to catch fire. I remember having to be in the suburbs to tell that the sky was blue. I remember the landfill that is now Burke Lakefront Airport as a smoldering dump. I remember smokestacks belching black carbon where Cleveland Electric Illuminating generated electricity right next to that dump. I remember only carp in Lake Erie where walleye, bass, trout, and salmon now thrive.

All of that is gone, partly because people cared enough to do something about it. Unfortunately, the agency set up to make sure we no longer fouled the nest and the movement that spawned it, have become home to some of the most raving anti-capitalist whackos that the world has ever seen.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not anti-earth. I'm a conservationist at heart, and love the wild places in our country with a passion that is hard to describe. I feel closer to our Creator in the back country than anywhere else, and work with several organizations to preserve it. I am, also, pro-progress and pro-civilization. I like technology, and the benefits it brings to us. I would not leave the house without my cell phone. When I travel, my laptop travels, too. But there are some in the environmental movement that would have us dress in hemp, eat roots, and travel by foot everywhere we go, not because it is good for us, but because it would lower our standard of living to the level of the rest of the world.

America is (still) the greatest country on the face of this planet. Our poor people have a higher standard of living than the average European. Those who exploit the differences in earnings in this country or exploit our guilt at our supposed "destruction" of the planet, do so to increase their own power over the people who produce the jobs, the goods, and the services that we all desire and need.

I'm sure that the solution to our problems lies between a return to the middle ages, and relinquishing our freedoms to those who are out to "save" us. Our planet is a living organism with all of the ability to cleanse itself of poisons that our own bodies posses. Our people are smart enough to see through the charlatans that are selling themselves as saviors. As Abraham Lincoln said, "You can fool all of the people some of the time, some of the people all of the time, but you can't fool all of the people all of the time." We just need remember to be gentle with Mother Earth and carefully scrutinize those who would be our masters in the guise of solving our problems. We are not the problem, we are the solution.

Sorry. This got a little heavier than I intended, but I'm not cold any longer. :-)

Stay well, and stay warm.

"Clinging"

Just in case there was any question on my political position, here's a picture from "Bob's Rod and Gun Club". The green thing on the left is a fly rod tube.

Stay safe.

"Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free". John 8:32 (NIV)

Gracie Update

If you notice me watching my feet as I walk, I'm not depressed. It's a habit I'm developing to keep from stomping on Gracie. To say that she's improving with each passing day might be understating things.

She seems to like to chase the laces on my shoes. This is cool if I'm sitting with my feet dangling, but a bit disconcerting while I'm walking.

She is improving so rapidly, that Gizmo has take to roosting as high as possible to avoid having to "play" with the kitten. Wally, on the other hand loves to chase her. He's so good at it that Gracie might have to be renamed. "Slimer" might be a good name as she's almost always covered by puppy drool when Wally's around.

Life is good here at the casa, despite the cold rain that's falling right now.

Stay well.

Ciener Platinum Cup .22 Conversion

I know some of you might be interested in how my new Ciener Conversion performed. Those of you who aren't can skip the rest of this post. It's all gun stuff.

Basically, I took a box of everything I had around the house in .22 Long Rifle to the indoor range and blew them up. A few observations follow.

The aluminum slide and adjustable sights were a near-perfect fit on my SW1911's frame. Conversion is as simple as taking off the old slide/barrel and sliding the new one on. One note: My Wilson Bulletproof slide stop would not clear the magazines, but the stock SW stop works perfectly. Disassembly of the slide is easy, but requires a firm grip on the recoil spring guide to hold it compressed while the barrel is pulled out. Fortunately, the spring pressure is not all that high, compared to the .45 parts.

The aluminum magazines (only one came with the kit) hold 15 rounds, and seem to feed all of them without a problem. They can be easily taken apart for cleaning, and the surprisingly light spring pressure makes for easy loading. I like the fact that the back of the magazine can be removed. It makes it easy to clean the inside. Replacement mags are pricey at $35, but a spare is always a good idea.

Functioning on my SW1911 frame was nearly flawless. Full and partially loaded magazines functioned as I would expect. The kit is not designed to hold the slide back following the last shot. This is not really a problem, as there is enough room to pinch-check the pistol, despite the full length guide rod.

I fed it a box of each of the following with failures mentioned below each.

Remington Thunderbolt
1 Failure to Fire, which is typical of my experience with this ammo in my H&R Sportsman.

Remington Cyclone
None.

CCI Velocitor
1 Failure to Feed. This was the third magazine fired (47th round) in a brand new conversion kit, and was probably my fault for not seating the cartridges in the magazine properly. I dropped the mag, tapped it on my hand, and had no subsequent failures from a full box.

CCI Mini Mag
None.

Aguila Super Extra
None.

Aguila Supermaximum Hypervelocity
None.

Federal Champion HP
None. Ho-hum.

In total, I put close to 500 rounds through it (mostly the Federals) with 2 failures. Accuracy was as good as I was. At 15 yards, with a two-handed hold, 90% of the shots were in the black of a 25 yard NRA Timed/Rapid fire target, and the hits were right where the sights said they should be. The fliers were my fault, as I was more interested in how the unit functioned than in punching one ragged hole in the X-ring of the target. Some time soon, I'll shoot it from a rest, and report on accuracy.

I'm very pleased. If need be, I can now hunt squirrels with my ".45". :)

Black Friday

I don't really know why they call this "Black Friday", but to get in the spirit of things, I'll wear my black tactical pants, a black t-shirt, black boots, and a mostly black tiger stripe jacket when I go to the range to road test my black Ciener .22 conversion kit for my .45.

I plan to avoid the malls like I would the Black Death, and thoroughly blacken my hands with powder residue. When I get home, I'll add some more black while cleaning up the turkey fryer.

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Enough darkness, already.

Yesterday was a hectic/wonderful/hectic/wonderful get-together with all of my offspring, assorted wives and husbands, 4 grandchildren, visiting dogs, and 3 unexpected guests. My day started early, and ran late, but I would not trade one second of it for a year of almost anything else.

Marilyn, Sandy, Gretchen, Missy, and Laura all prepared some of the best food I've ever tasted. Even Slade and Jonathan (grape salad and deviled eggs, respectively) got into the food preparation mode. For my part, Bob and I spent about 45 minutes waiting for the turkey fryer to burn down the back yard while we did a 12 pound bird. I'm happy to report that the turkey was good, and everything near the house is still standing, although I never really thought of a dry-chemical fire extinquisher as being necessary food prep equipment.

The food was great, the family was better, and a surprise visit from my nephew, his wife, and daughter was the icing on the cake. I have not seen Paul for 2 years, and it was really good to have them drop by. He's been in the Navy for 18 years, as a hospital corpsman, and has been "green" for most of them. Currently he's with the Marines at Camp Lejeune, NC.

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Addendum to yesterday's post: I'm also extremely thankful for the sacrifices of those who chose to serve in our Military and the efforts they make to ensure we are, and remain the best nation on earth. There would not be a United States of America without their service.

Semper Fi.

Oh Give Thanks...

...Unto the Lord, for he is good, and his Mercy endures forever.

This Thanksgiving, I think I'll just list a few things for which I've good reason to be thankful.

My Mom. She gave me this wonderful Life, and I can never, ever thank her enough.

Marilyn. She's put up with me for nearly 40 years, and I still get just as excited as Wally when she comes home.

Bobby, Laura, and Sara. Three of the wittiest people I know, and a joy to be around, singly or in groups.

Sandy, Slade, Tyler, and Sam. My oldest (sorry, Sandy) daughter and her family are wonderful, giving people who make me glad every time I see them.

Gretchen. Always a joy after she came back from her very dark place, and proof of the existence of redemption.

Jon, Missy, and Violet. They have endless energy and an attitude that could make Pollyanna jealous. Vi is a constant source of wonder as she has grown every time I see her.

The Herd. Wally, Gizmo, and Gracie remind me of how much God has Blessed me.

My sister Amy and her husband Geoff, for taking such good care of Mom.

My brother and other sisters for being my brother and other sisters. I've learned a lot from all of them.

My friends. They keep me honest.

America. For all her troubles, still the best, most free and desired place on earth to thrive and raise a family. May she remain that way for a long time to come.

Dr. McBee. She lets me cheat on my diet on Thanksgiving, Christmas, and my birthday.

And finally, I'm thankful for the time the family is going to spend together today, eating, fellowshiping, and being family.

Thank you, Lord. Life is good.

Gracie the Crippled Kitten

Two weeks ago on Friday, I mentioned that one of the things on my "To Do" list was to play with Gracie the Crippled Kitten. A brief description and update on her condition follows.

About a month ago, Marilyn came home with a handful of blue-eyed purring fur. Gracie was full of energy and as playful as most kittens, but she had trouble getting traction with her hind feet on our hardwood floors. When she tried to turn, she would spin out like an old Porsche Turbo on a sheet of ice, hence the name Gracie.

After a couple of days, it became obvious that she was not merely clumsy, but there was a medical problem. A trip to the vet later, she was back home with about 2 weeks worth of antibiotics, and a grim prognosis.

Today, she went back for her follow up check. I'm happy to report (I think) that she will be with us for a while. She has gained over a pound, seems to be in good health, and can stand and walk almost like a normal kitten. Each day brings some improvement, and she's become fond of antagonizing Wally the Weather Dog.

Now if she would only learn to retract her claws...

Stay well.

Happy Anniversary, Sandy and Slade

Two years ago this afternoon, I was standing in a little church near Jersey, Georgia, dressed in my best "Come to Jesus" suit, giving my daughter to Slade.

I think it's been a great thing for both of them. I've watched them grow together and Sandy seems happier than she had been for years prior to this Wedding. Seeing Sandy smile is one of my favorite things, and I hope I get to see it for a lot of years to come.

God Bless you both.

Just One Quick Question

Wally the Weather Dog just came back into the house soaking wet. In the 6 weeks I've been on a 4 day work week, it's rained on four of my Fridays off.

Why?

OK, 2 quick questions.

Why doesn't it rain while I'm working from dark to dark, and let me play outside on my days off?

Life is unfair. But, I guess nobody ever told me it was supposed to be fair.

At least I get to go to the (indoor) range tonight for a little loud, quality time with my son, my SW1911, Uberti Cattleman, and Mom's old H&R Sportsman. Let it rain.

Stay well.

Sunday

We had a wonderful Sunday afternoon. Marilyn had invited the kids over for a late lunch, and everybody showed up. The roster included: Marilyn and myself; Bobby, fresh from the LOD gathering in the mountains, along with Laura and Sara; Slade, Sandy, Tyler and Sam from the Jersey branch of the family; Jon, Missy and Violet from the Athens chapter, and Gretchen. Wally, Gizmo and Gracie all put in an appearance at one time or another, too.

I cranked up the grill and seared some mammal flesh, Marilyn had some home-made broccoli salad, killer mac and cheese, salsa and chips, a fruit plate, and miscellaneous trimmings for the burgers. We all ate way the heck too much and generally had a terrific time.

I thank God for all of them, especially my wonderful wife who keeps thinking up these get-togethers. It's great to be able to get a house full of people who get along so well together (except maybe Tyler and Sam...but they're brothers, and you can't expect perfection :)). Even the dog and cats got along.

As I've said before, I'm truly blessed.

Saturday

Today was a good one. I did nothing after about 0700 this morning except goof off. Around 0800, I pointed the Jeep North toward the Legion of Doom's fall convocation. After a leisurely 2 hour drive, I arrived at LOD Headquarters, North. In attendance were Bob, Pete, Kevin, and Jerry.

They had a bit of a skimpy campsite because someone who has a trailer full of camping stuff decided at the last minute to make it a one day camping experience. You all have my sincerest apologies. But in the Marine spirit of Improvise, Adapt, Overcome, they struck out for Wal-Mart in Clayton, and bought whatever they needed that I didn't bring in my trailer. I promise I'll attend the entire spring fling, with my trailer in tow.

I hung around with them for about 5 hours, until the Drunkshoes tournament started, then took my leave. I arrived home around 5 after getting off to a slow start. There was a funeral procession from Clayton to Talulah Falls, that had traffic backed up for about 12 miles. Once the deceased turned left, the clot broke loose, and I set a record pace getting home.

It was a little windy today, and the fall colors in the Georgia Mountains were at their peak when I arrived in Clayton, and severely diminished when I left. It's amazing how a succession of 25 MPH wind gusts can nearly clear a grove of trees of their Fall foliage. No matter the season, the mountains put me closer to God's creation than anything I can think of, with the possible exception of my grandchildren (and long suffering wife and children, too).

I have truly been blessed.

Make it a great weekend, and stay safe.

...And miles to go before I sleep...

Today I get to reap the benefits of a 4 day work week. I've got a Friday with nothing to do!

Except...

Listen to geese flying by

Get tires for Jeep

Wash Jeep (I know, a clean Jeep is a sign of a sick mind, but it's really getting grubby...and who cares that it's supposed to rain this afternoon?)

Deliver Miter Saw to Sandy and Slade's house (They're spending their free time this weekend doing crown molding.)

Drive to Athens to pick up Aunt Sophie (the nagging Garmin Nuvi 350 GPS) for Gretchen's trip to Savannah

Visit with Missy and Vi

Stop by The Firing Lane and blow up a couple of hundred rounds of .45.

Be back at house before 3:00 to visit with Sara after school.

Check on my improvements to a database backup (so I'm working on my day off...what of it?)

Turn on TV

Collapse into recliner

Pass out

Wake up

Work from home for a while

Greet Marilyn as she returns from Work

Dinner

Play with Gracie the crippled kitten

Pack Jeep for trip to mountains tomorrow

Check on database backup (again)


What can I say? God's been good to me, and I'm not bored.

Update:

I've accomplished most of the things on the list. As of 2130, I've not delivered the miter saw, (Sandy was going to swing by after visiting Home Depot and pick it up) and unfortunately, the visit with Missy and Vi got canceled due to new intelligence on Gretchen's departure. She's not leaving until next Friday, so I don't have to pick up the Garmin.

The work parts are still on, as the backup doesn't run until 2330.

Stay well.

Doh! A Deer!...and a Rice Rocket

This morning I had the mixed experience of witnessing a collision between a low-flying sport bike and a small deer. I say mixed, because after the horrifyingly spectacular collision and disintegration of the bike, and watching the rider slide and roll about 75 yards down Jersey road, I had the good fortune to find the young man only slightly injured.

I was headed south away from the house around 6:30 this morning, when I saw one very bright headlight come up behind me. When the double yellow line turned to dashed, the bike pulled out to pass. About the time he was to the end of what I could see in my headlights, I saw the deer crossing the road from the right. He saw it too, but was a lot closer and moving a lot faster than I. He center-punched the deer without having time to hit his brakes. There was an explosion of fur, faring, and flashes of sparks from the bike skidding down the road. The bike traveled about 100 yards into the woods on the right side of the road and knocked down a couple of dead trees before it came to rest.

The rider rolled, slid and flipped about 1/3 of that distance and came to a stop just off the right shoulder of the road. The deer was gutted and went to the left shoulder. There were quite a few bike and deer bits left in the middle of the road.

I stopped, jumped out of the Jeep and approached rider, expecting to find him dead or severely injured. He was curled up in a ball, and moving, so I asked him how badly he was hurt as I was dialing 911. He said he didn't know, and I told him not to try to move. By the time the Sheriff's deputy showed up, he had decided that he was not dead, had nothing broken, and did not want an ambulance. His injuries, other than to his pride, were a slight case of road rash on his right knee and knuckles, a leather jacket trying to imitate suede, and a split, skinned, and otherwise trashed helmet. He griped that it was a $400 brain bucket, and I pointed out that what he had in it during the wreck was probably worth every penny of it.

All in all, he was a very lucky young man.

Like they used to say on Hill Street Blues, Be careful out there.

You never know when God will throw a deer at you. :)

No more OOPS!

Last evening, Bob dropped by with the new axle for his truck. By 8:00 PM, the gray lump in my driveway had been replaced by the red and white one. The truck is working fine, and Bob says it's about 800% quieter.

That was the good news from last night.

Be good, and remember that political events are like what the old country doctor told the hysterical mother of a baby who had swallowed a nickle. "This, too, shall pass."

Keep the faith.

OOPS!

Any time you're looking at something like this, you know that your afternoon is basically shot. (For those of you who never had grease ground into a fresh cut while working on something automotive, this is the inside of the rear differential on a 4 wheel drive F-150 pickup truck.)

Yesterday, I got a call from Bob asking if he could come over and use some of my tools (I think I have at least one of everything) to work on his truck. It was bleeding axle lube from the right rear wheel.

With the Fall Convocation of The Legion of Doom coming up next weekend, he kind of wanted his 4 wheel drive pickup to be functional.

He got here around 10 this morning, and we quickly got the truck up on jack stands and the wheels and brake drums off. The right side looked like a Saudi Sheik's dream. There was enough oil there to sink a well. We pulled the differential cover off, removed the cross pin, and pulled the c-clips that held in the axles. The left side was OK, The right axle had a nice groove that corresponded to the rollers in the wheel bearing. Bummer.

A quick trip to the local auto parts store, a $500 hit on my credit card for a new axle and a battery for my pickup, and a promise of a new axle shaft on Tuesday followed in rapid succession. We then cleaned up the bearing pockets in the ends of the axle tubes, stuck the new bearings in the freezer for about 30 min, and then tapped them into place. New seals were next, followed by the left axle, break drum, and wheel.

The net result of this is a 3-legged gray F-150 on jack stands in my driveway, and my pickup on loan to Bob. Hopefully, he can drop by on Tuesday after he votes for McCain and Palin, and we can finish the project.

I'm not real sure what the point of all this is, but it ate up most of my day, and was actually a lot of fun. I'm convinced that any time spent with your children or grandchildren is not held against your allotted time on earth. It's also good to see that your kids can turn into human beings again after they finish being teens. :)

Stay safe.

Halloween

Well, it's the second scariest day of the year (the scariest will be next Tuesday), and my day looks like this:

As soon as it's warm enough to work outside, I need to windrow the lawn then go back over it and suck up all the chopped litter. Drought has kept it dormant, genetics has kept most of it low, and Autumn has spread tons of pine straw across the majority of it. It's grown so little that I have not cut it for over a month, and I'm afraid that some little goblin will sprain an ankle on an errant pine cone tonight.

After I finish grinding the debris in the yard, it's off to the Firing Lane. I've got too much .45 ACP laying around the house, and the Smith needs the exercise. What am I saying? One can never have too much ammo. This fits my occasional philosophy: If some is good, and more is better, then too much is Just Enough.

When I've acquired a semi-permanent scent of burnt gunpowder, it's back home to be here when the Lovely Sara gets home from school. She can do her thing on the computer, and I can do my therapy cleaning the gun.

By the time she's picked up by her folks, it will be time to put Wally the Weather Dog in the fenced yard, and the little spooks should be hitting the driveway. I hope we have a ton of them. In years past, our neighborhood in Monroe was the easiest one for the folks south of town to hit. Thirty years of growth and new construction have created better places to Trick or Treat. There are other, more generous, areas for the candy seekers to visit, but we still get our fair share of short people being herded around by their folks.

Marilyn should be home from work at the local ER about the time the "looting" peaks, so I should be able to retreat to the den to recover.

It looks like it should be a good day.

If you're going to be out tonight, be safe and watch out for the short people.

OK, I've Been MIA for a While

Sorry. Y'all can flog me later.

But to make up for it, I'm going to shamelessly steal something from a good friend, and give it to everybody who reads this.

A couple of weeks ago, it was my good fortune to spend a Saturday in complete idleness, sitting near a campfire in the Georgia Mountains. The highlight of the day was my friend Greg, who is wasting his life messing with computers. He should have a big mushroom shaped white hat and an apron as his signature look. The man can make a Webber Kettle sing.

Thanks mainly to Greg, the menu at our camping excursions has progressed from Beenie-Weenies and sardines to White Bean Chili and Asian Marinated Flank Steak.

Herewith, the recipes for the Chili and Marinade.

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White bean Chili

This is Greg's creation and is very flexible. This is what he used on the "Saturday-to-die-for". You can adjust it in any fashion you wish,



4 lbs of ground chicken (Note, this is a LOT of meat).

8 to 12 tomatillo’s depending on size. He had ones that were about the size of a golf ball or just a tad larger. They can get like a medium tomato so if they are that large, use less.

3 cans of canelli beans

Green chili’s (He had one large can of whole and use about ¾ of it. Chopped) not hot, mild

2 serano chili’s or jalapeno seeded or not. If you want the heat, leave the seeds in

Juice of 3 limes

3 bay leaves

1 teaspoon of black pepper to taste

1 teaspoon sea salt or kosher salt to taste

1 ½ quarts of chicken stock

2 medium to large sweet onion’s

2 or 3 poblano peppers. Charred, seeded and diced (to char place the pepper whole on a burner gas or electric and let the outer skin start to blacken. Keep turning till the entire pepper is charred usually about 3 to 4 min. then place in a paper or plastic bag for 5 to 10 min. closed. Then take the pepper and peel the outer skin off and remove the seeds and dice)

2 or 3 cloves of garlic minced



brown chicken with some canola oil in a pot, then add the onions and garlic when onions are ½ half cooked add remaining ingredients and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 60 to 90 min.



That should get you there.. use any kind beans and peppers you want and it will still work great.


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For the Asian marinated flank steak or any other kind of steak.

Marinade for 1 steak.

1 tablespoon of Sesame oil (dark oil)

2 tablespoons of fish sauce (you can find this on the ethnic isle of the store)

2 cloves of garlic chopped or minced

1 tablespoon of fresh ginger grated

¼ cup extra virgin olive oil

¼ cup rice wine vinegar

Juice of 1 to 2 limes

½ cup soy sauce

¼ teaspoon black pepper

Stir together until oils and remainder of ingredients are mixed.

Take one flank steak and score with a knife across the grain on an angle about every 2 inches going 1/16 of an inch deep. Place the steak in a plastic bag and pour marinade over the meat and let sit at room temp for about 1 hour. Then refrigerate over night. Remove from refrigerator at least 30 minutes prior to cooking. Cook over the hot coals of the grill for 3 to 4 minutes per side or desired doneness.

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There you are. I hope this makes up for my absence.

My Dad and Big Boy's Toys

Disclaimer: If the pictures offend you, the "Back" button will take you someplace else.

My father, before he was my father, was a Staff Sargent with the 87th Infantry Division during WWII. He walked, rode trucks, and otherwise crossed a good portion of Europe (Cherbourg, France to Czechoslovakia, via Belgium, Luxembourg, and Germany) from the Fall of 1944 through V-E Day in 1945. Along the way, he participated in the relief of the Bulge, and helped to liberate the Buchenwald concentration camp. Before they sent him to Europe, he qualified Expert with most of the small arms in the U.S. inventory.

Suffice it to say, he knew which end of a firearm was the loud one, and his philosophy was that it was better to have one and not need it, than to need one and not have it. He did his best to impart this information and philosophy to me. He tried to teach me to be safe with weapons, to think of them, both edged and firearms, as tools, how to properly handle and care for them, and to enjoy trying to become proficient with them. I think it worked.

He's been gone for almost 18 years, and there's not a day that passes that I don't miss him. But, finding myself halfway down the long and winding road, I can look forward to seeing my sons pass this knowledge to their children, and look back with appreciation to the father that taught me.

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A couple of weeks ago, Bobby, Slade, and I descended on The Firing Lane in Athens (very much worth a visit if you're into guns) for an evening of good, loud, dirty fun. My .45s, .22, and Slade's .45 spent the best part of 45 minutes shredding paper at the indoor range. Between the three of us, we burned about 500 rounds of .45 ACP, 150 of .45 Colt, and 150 of .22. We reduced 6 targets to confetti, completely covered the floor with spent brass, undoubtedly did some permanent damage to our hearing, and absolutely enjoyed the heck out of the whole evening.

I enjoyed it so much, that I convinced my buddy Teddy to accompany me the following week for another 30 min session. I'm going back this week, too. It's fun, and I'm not nearly as good as I should be with the .45 auto. Practice, practice, practice. If I expect to live up to my father's example, I'll need to make this a regular event.

Besides, it gives me an excuse to share what I've learned with friends, sons, and sons-in-law and to have a wonderful time doing it.

There's not much more a man could want from a hobby, or a family.

Who needs The Weather Channel?

I certainly don't. I've got Wally the Weather Dog.

Here's how he works. You put him outside for a while, and when he comes back in, you know what the weather is like. If he's shivering, grab a coat. If he's coated in white, grab a snow shovel. If he's panting, it's gonna be hot.

I'll leave it as an exercise for the astute reader to determine what today's weather is doing. (Hint: So far today, it's done 2.91 inches of it.)

Happy Birthday, Violet!

Today is Violet's first birthday.

Being the kind of people who like to celebrate such "minor" events, Missy and Jon called everyone they knew and invited them to the (rapidly improving) new house. Everybody showed up. Missy's Mom, Dad, Sister (and sister's boyfriend), Marilyn, myself, Bob, Laura, Sara, Sandy, Slade, Tyler, Sam, Stevie (a complete non-relative who was spending the weekend with Sandy, Slade and the boys), Gretchen, Melissa and Tony Pepin, Jon's boss and her husband, and about 4 other friends from Jon and Missy's church, descended on the little house on the tall grass prairie. The house reminded me of the 10,000 pound truck with 20,000 pounds of canaries in it. Half had to keep flying to keep from overloading the thing.

To say that Vi enjoyed the company would be an understatement. She made out like a bandit on the gift front, and had a great time tearing into the boxes, bags and various gift containers.

Missy managed to pull this thing off in first class order, despite a house that is a) still basically undergoing extensive reconstructive surgery, and b) still being moved into. The food was great, the company was better, and the family was better still.

I can't wait for the next one.

The House - or, What I Did Last Weekend

I spent the weekend in a seemingly endless loop between Monroe and Winterville helping (I think) Jon and Missy get their house whipped into shape so they can move in.

After a little drama on Thursday at the closing (there was a minor glitch with the funding that was resolved later that evening) Jon, Missy, and I descended on their house to begin an instant rehab. I was Spackle Man. After years of neglect and modification (the former owner was a satellite TV freak and had cables running everywhere) the walls were full of divots and outright holes. My job (should I choose to accept it) was to seek and destroy said holes. If I may be so bold as to risk dislocation of my shoulder from patting myself on the back, I did a pretty fair job of finding most of them.

Friday was Paint Prep Night at the Brockmann's. The above parties, and a swarm of folks from Jon and Missy's church, proceeded to remove wallpaper, and begin to prep the patched walls for paint. Since I hate wallpaper more than Missy, I buttonholed Jon, and we headed for Lowe's, to purchase new lock sets for all of the doors. I spent the evening securing the house from unwanted visitors.

Saturday, I went to Bobby's house and borrowed his flat-bed trailer, loaded my lawnmower and gas cans, and went in search of gas. Once I found some, and picked myself up off the pavement when I looked at the price (up 50 cents from the previous day), I filled the Jeep and cans, and pointed the thing East.

Disclaimer: Politically incorrect comments follow. I know this spike in gas prices was caused by the threat of Hurricane Ike hitting about a dozen refineries in Texas. They took the wise precaution of shutting down before the storm hit, evacuated low lying areas, and did everything that New Orleans failed to do when Katrina hit. I have only one gripe about Ike. I think they should take every idiot junior reporter with a remote truck and a raincoat and send them to the desert when a major storm threatens our coasts. It's my humble opinion that the ratings-hungry morons that run cable news networks and these on-the-scene "experts" accounted for about half of the bump in the price of gas. What they did is the 21st century equivalent of yelling "Fire!" in a crowded theater. Concern and prudent precaution are good things. Standing outside in a hurricane with a microphone and camera telling people to evacuate or stay inside because it's dangerous to be outside is hypocritical and downright stupid. Telling the world that a dozen refineries might be damaged or destroyed by the storm borders on being criminal, and is nothing but pandering to the enviro-whackos who would love to see us all traveling by ox cart and living like medieval serfs.

Now, I feel better, and can continue with my saga.

I arrived at the house around noon, and was greeted by the sight of Jon unloading 27 gallons (no exaggeration) of paint from the back of a truck. There were about 8 cars in the driveway, and a bunch of young folks (the above church members and various friends) waiting eagerly for the start of the paint-a-thon. Being one to stay as far from paint as possible, I got on the mower. As you can seen from the picture, the lawn was suffering from neglect. It was closer to tall-grass-prairie than lawn.

Five hours later, the front and half of the side/back yard looked like the house was occupied. If I'd done this before the appraisal, it would have cost Jon and Missy another 10 grand to buy the house.

Sunday was a repeat of Saturday. Schlep the mower to the house and ride. I've got saddle sores. Maybe they're ant bites. Between mower sessions, Jon and I picked up two trailer loads of crap from the yard, and hauled it to the trash pile at the back of the lot. It was a lot easier than spreading the stuff from the pile around the yard. Unfortunately, everything we picked up was covered with ants. Amazing creatures. They're industrious, organized, 1/4 inch long and have 6 inch jaws. If they were a little bigger, I'd shoot them.

Another interesting bit of animal lore. At one point, I flushed a large rodent from a particularly thick clump of grass (think Robert Burns and substitute lawn mower for plow and rat for mouse). She (I assume it was a nesting mother) hopped around from one side of the strip I was cutting to the other. Every time I came past, she would scamper to the other side of the strip. When it got so narrow that she was running into herself trying to escape, she made a break for the next area of high grass. When I got to that area, we repeated the whole process until she was well and truly homeless.

Vermin, sore butt, bites, scrapes, and sunburn aside, I had a great weekend.

The house is progressing nicely, and today the carpet and tile installers will be there doing their bit to transform it from fixer-upper to home. Tonight, Marilyn and I are planning a visit to see how the rejuvenation is progressing.

Blessings on Missy, Jon, and Violet. You've chosen wisely. It's going to be a great place to live and grow.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZNORRRFFFF!... Huh?

If I said I had been working day and night, would you believe me? There's little reason not to, since I've been doing exactly that at the same place for 36+ years. I must be a slow learner.

Part of my problem is the nature of my business. I keep our sales agencies and other databases functioning. In most cases, nobody thinks about what I do until it stops working. When it does, it's automatically a database problem until our group can point the blame at the actual guilty party. Usually, the problem is some new, "improved" code from one of our developers. I think their motto is: "I never made a mistake in my life! One time I thought I had, but I was wrong."

But, to turn back to my insomnia and lack of blogging, I've been working on trying to make an unsupported version (that's OLD in English) of a database run where it was never intended to run. Just because something is possible, does not make it a good idea.

In this case, we're trying to run an agency on a virtual machine (a pretend server running as part of a bigger computer, but looking to the world like a stand alone server). VM and old versions of DB2 don't play nice together, so we moved the database off of the VM and onto...well let's just say we moved it. It solved our performance problem, but the maintenance stuff that has to happen each night is broken. Think of a car with the oil drain plug welded on. It's tough to change the oil. It will run OK for a while, but eventually, "She's gonna blow!"

The real problem is that the database now resides in what can be charitably called a non-production environment. It might also be called my laptop. Getting it moved to somewhere more secure is a priority, hence the lack of sleep.

Another part of my lack of blogging has been a bout of home improvement. I've been working on fixing the 937,000 little things that get ignored in the life of a 35 year old house. At least it gives me a chance to use power tools. The current project was replacing the door to the crawl space. That ate up most of last Saturday, and with luck will be finished tomorrow. Trust me when I say it will look a lot better than the old hunk of de-laminating plywood that formerly covered the opening.

Then there is the continuing saga of the homeless, Winterville Brockmanns. I spent Sunday with Jon at the new house, refreshing my drywall finishing skills while he and a friend crammed a water heater under the stairs. I need to get back tomorrow night and sand what I covered with mud over the weekend. I hear that the closing on the house is tomorrow at 3, and the painters are due to descend over the weekend, followed by the carpet folks. It's gonna be a little tight if I'm sanding my drywall patches (Patches? We don need no steenking patches!) while somebody else is in the room with a paint roller. My plan is to be in the semi-finished, new room, putting up edge guards, taping and mudding the seams in the (you guessed it!) drywall while the painters are attacking the rest of the house. One other task will be to swap out all of the locks for something where half of Oglethorpe County does not have a key.

It's going to be good to see Jon, Missy, Violet, Peabody, and Scarface (Ollie) in their new house. They ought to be just about settled in by the time Violet has a birthday at the end of the month. God bless them, they've got more energy than I can remember ever having.

Well, it's time to start siphoning the oil out of the computer dipstick tube, so I'll let you all go.

Later.

Sam

Thursday was Sam's 11th birthday. Yesterday, most of his kinfolks gathered at Sandy and Slade's house to celebrate. We had a great time, ate barbecue, visited, opened gifts, and generally acted like a big family.

Jon and Missy, thanks for calling. I realize you are temporarily not in the state, but it was very good of you to call him at his party.

The best gift (after the cash and video game) was the mini RC helicopter. Tyler and Sam took turns flying it around the living room, antagonizing the cats, and annoying (not really) the adults. I went looking for a giant flyswatter. The thing is a giant dragonfly.

I need to get one. Gizmo needs something to chase. :)

At any rate, Happy Birthday Sam! We're proud of you, and love you a lot.

Gizmo

Gizmo has adopted me. I don't really know why, but she has decided that I am her person. Let me emphasize that, while I can tolerate cats, I'm really more of a dog person. Cats are OK to look at, but I would not pick one as a pet. They tend to scratch and bite when they require service. Someone very astute once observed that dogs have masters and cats have staff.

My duties as servant to the cat commence each morning when I come down the stairs. That's when she does her best giant slalom impression between my moving feet. This wouldn't be so bad, but I usually get up around 0500 and don't turn on many lights. A black cat weaving in and out of your moving feet on a dark stairway is disconcerting to say the least. It could be downright dangerous if she weighed more than 5 lbs.

Once she has tried, and failed, to kill me as I enter the den, we check her food bowl, fill it if necessary, and then try to visit our favorite internet sites. After she has eaten, she takes up her place on the back of the chair-and-a-half in the den, and stays there most of the day. Occasionally she will make a patrol of the various sinks and bathtubs in the house looking for a drink from a dripping faucet. When the squirrels start running around the back yard, she'll take up her post on the top of a hutch in the dining room, and watch the activity. About once a week, we need to clean the nose prints off of the window.

Another morning activity is to bedevil Wally. An ambush from under some dresser or other piece of furniture will generally generate a game of catch-me-if-you-can. Usually Wally comes up empty. If he does catch her, he doesn't play hard enough to break her. He's good people, too.

One of her other quirks was her desire to get to the greatest altitude possible. The picture is of her on top of a 7' china hutch. She has not been up there lately. I think she cured herself of mountain climbing when she tried to cross the curtain rod to another display cabinet in the living room. When the mounting hook tore out of the wall and dumped her 6' to the floor, I think her enthusiasm was bruised in the impact.

Like I said, I'm not much of a feline fancier, but Gizmo is OK, for a cat.

The Hyperbolic Kitchen

It's gradually approaching completion, but I don't think it is ever going to hit the finish line.

The cabinet installers were back for about the 37th time today to put the project to rest. Steve, their leader, nearly expired when he discovered that we a) had only one glass window that fit, b) one of the thrice-ordered corner cabinets had a flaw that should have never passed a quality control inspection, and c) the glass shelves for the display cabinet were the wrong size. After his fit of apoplexy, he lit out of here like a shuttle launch, intent on issuing a slew of new brains to the folks who took our money and have so far failed to get the order straight.

In their favor, the installers got the corner cabinets installed, the trim installed, the correct cabinets in place over the refrigerator, and it looks fabulous.

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When I got home from work, there were women everywhere. Marilyn, Laura, Gretchen, Missy, Sara, and Violet were all camped in the living room, generally doing whatever Violet wanted. Wally was protecting them from whatever he thought he saw wandering past the storm door.

After playing with Vi for a while, Laura, Sara, and Gretchen went their ways, and Marilyn, Missy, Violet, and I all went out to dinner. Our waitress spent most of the evening in a parallel universe, but the food and company were great. Violet can eat her own weight every 6 hours, fall asleep immediately after dinner, and still stay slightly underweight. If I ate like she does, two things would certainly happen. I would weigh 300 pounds, and my doctor would send her Sicilian cousin Guido to 'splain the error of my ways to me.

All things considered, it was a pretty good day.

Old Stinks...But It's Better Than the Alternative

You know you're getting old when the first page of the Contacts on your cell phone all start with "Dr". Mine has 4, and this week I was glad one of them was there.

Sunday morning, I walked out of the house on the way to Wal-Mart, and winced. The brightness of the morning caused a pain above my left eye. By Monday morning, I was convinced that my old friend Iritis had returned for a visit. It's an inflammation of the iris in the eye. Sometimes, the iris will stick to whatever it slides against. When a bright light causes the pupil to contract, the friction (stiction?) is painful. Biblically painful, as in "If thy eye offend thee, pluck it out". In the past 10 years, I've had two episodes, and know the symptoms fairly well. I called the ophthalmologist and made the first appointment I could...2:15 on Tuesday.

Tuesday morning dawned, and I sat in the dark. Any time my eye tried to dilate, the pain was intense. I sat in the dark until my appointment, unable to look at a computer screen, read, or do much of anything. I discovered that I could mitigate the pain by wearing my sunglasses in the house. After tripping over stuff for several hours, I showed up at the doctor at 2:15, and by 2:40, I was diagnosed as, indeed, having Iritis. I left with a bottle of eye drops and an appointment to come back in a week. The drops are a steroid, and a miracle drug. After two applications, the inflammation was gone, and the pain with it. The bad part of this is that even though it feels better, it takes several weeks to clear it up. Until then, I get to put a drop in my eye 4 times a day, and see the ophthalmologist once a week until he blesses me and tells me to go and sin no more.

Well, enough of feeling sorry for myself. I guess the good part of this is that I have the doctor and treatment, and am feeling well enough to write about it.

Another good thing is that tomorrow morning, Steve the Cabinet Guy will be here with his platoon of Meso-Americans to finally finish the kitchen cabinet installation. Marilyn is cautiously optimistic that they will actually complete the job tomorrow. I remain skeptical (I feel like Pope Leo talking to Michelangelo..."When will you make an end?"), but it might just be that I'm still a little cranky from being ill.

Whatever the outcome, I'm looking forward to having it done.

Keep the faith.