Old Habits Die Hard

Got up early, before five am.  Since I take a new pill I don't "have to" make trips to the loo every other hour. But I am so in the habit, that I get up and write in my journal.

This morning there was no mail, an unusual state of affairs. I was just too blame early. There is always news on AOL, thank goodness for that. But there is nothing to react to, or write about.

Oh, there's Halloween, but I am over-filled with Halloween.  Television has for the past three weeks dragged out every horror story every produced, and shown them back to back.  They even showed the original Frankenstein with Boris Karloff as the monster.

There's nothing to do but go back to bed.

Standard Time, Little Luxuries, and the Hokey Pokey

We changed back to standard time.  Did you change the batteries in your smoke detectors?  Seems like batteries should last more than six months. Changing them twice a year is a little luxury we can afford in the name of safety.

Changed my watch to standard time, but in the morning it was sitting and blinking on the time I reset. It had failed to start the new time.  Then I noted that after a day's delay I had not changed the wall clock.  So I asked a care giver to do that.  Now I see that is sitting stuck on the time she changed it. Clocks hate the new time I guess.

Changing batteries more often than is absolutely necessary is a little luxury.  I knew a man who had two alarm clocks, an unnecessary expense.  He had two so that if woke while lying on his right side he could see a clock without turning over, and the same if he woke on his left side.

The same man had two copies of the morning paper delivered.  He could leave a  copy for his wife, and he could have a copy to read during the commute to work

A nurse in WWII was changing the sheets in the hospital bed and commented that she changed the hospital sheets daily, but in the barracks they got fresh sheets once a week.  She expressed a desire, upon returning to civilian life, to have fresh sheets daily.  I told her that was a little luxury she could afford, just because she wanted to.  And in fact, it that was where her heart lay, she could probably have NEW sheets every day... if she didn't need satin.

Frank Gilbreath, who invented time motion study, had revolutionized factory work, and even surgery, and was asked what he was trying to save time for.  He replied, "Why mumbly peg, if that is where your heart lies." He was saving time so we could enjoy little luxuries.

The title of this entry includes the Hokey Pokey.  I was lying in my bed singing Hokey Pokey in my head:  You put your whole self in, you put your whole self out, You do the Hokey Pokey and you turn yourself about.  Do the Hokey Pokey, that's what it's all about."  And I suddenly asked.  is that what life is all about?  Life is a dance?

Shakespeare said life is a tale told by an idiot.  He also said it is a stage and we are merely players, with our entrances and our exits.

All in all, I prefer to  think of life as a Hokey Pokey, rather than sound and fury signifying nothing. 

And with that I got up and wrote this entry

If I Were a Young Man

If I were a young man...

... I would still be flying my Ercoupe, the little two-place low-wing mono plane I had for years.  With other Ercoupe owners, we had group fly-ins weekly all over California and Arizona.  We were part of the jet-set with breakfast in Corona, Lunch at Anaheim, Supper in Santa Paula.  I even had a buffalo burger on Catalina Island one day.

...I would take a cabin cruiser up the inland water way from New Orleans to Bar Harbor.  You can cruise in safety all that way without setting foot in the Atlantic. What a way to travel.

...I would take a motor-home and follow the Lewis and Clark trail from St. Louis up the Missouri River and down the Columbia to the Pacific.  I would try to recapture the adventure they had exploring the Louisiana purchase.  What took them two years would, today, make a fine six-week sight seeing journey.

...With my motor home I would also follow the Santa Fe trail west.  I have actually stood in wagon tracks made by covered wagons in the middle of the nineteenth century.  I could use more of that.

...I would learn to play the piano. I loved to fiddle with the piano when I was a kid, and enjoyed picking out songs by ear.  With just a little introduction to music, I could now doodle on my keyboard in earnest.

...I would make a greater effort to learn a second language.  I was too lackadaisical in my efforts to learn Spanish, French, and Russian

...I would do again what I did right.  Learn photography, computers, Ham radio, touch typing. These interests have stuck with me and made my old age quite bearable. Also I learned to fly a plane and pilot a boat. I would again have a swimming pool.  I would repeat having a family  I would try to avoid wars,  however, and stepping on land mines.

Young folks, pay attention to grandfather. Do it now.  Have adventures and follow your passions with enthusiasm.  You get too old too soon.

Name a Song Starting with the Letter "I"

 George, our volunteer piano player for the old folks home has a collection of sheet music that numbers nearly 6000 titles, all alphabetized.  He comes twice a week bringing a brief case stuffed with a section of his collection. Usually all the tunes he plays start with same letter. 

George has us guess the name of the tune he is playing. We are entertained and our brains exercised.  He helps by playing them in alphabetical order, too.

Sunday, October 29, 2006 George played
I almost fell in Love

I am an American

I believe
I cain’t say no
I can dream, can’t I
I can’t begin t tell you
I can’t get started with you
I could have danced all night
I could write a book
I cover the waterfront
I cried for you
I don’t care if the sun don’t shine
I don’t know enough about you
I don’t know why
I don’t want to set the world on fire
I don’t want to walk without you
I dream of you
If I could be with you
If I didn’t care
If I had my way
If ever I loved you
I’ll walk alone
If this isn’t love
If you knew Susie,

 

And that was just one fourth of  the "I" songs.  Stay tuned.

 

I Ain't Got No Scurvy

If you have to be addicted to something, then being addicted to Limes is not such a bad deal.  Limes are always available, though the price varies according to which week we are in.

Limes at Sav-Mart were six for a dollar today. I bought a dozen.  Last week they were a dollar a dozen, so I bought two dozen.  I ate that two dozen in about a week. I cut about three a day in half, steel my senses, and eat 'em like oranges.  My gawd they sting.  But the flavor is wonderful.

Tablemate, Wilma, asked if they "help".  So I said, "Well, I sure won't get scurvy."

 The British navy has used limes for a couple of hundred years to prevent scurvy. Prior to that, a voyage of over three months could prove fatal to a quarter of the crew.  Scuvy, untreated, is fatal.  That's how the British sailors, and hence, all Brits, became nick-named Limey.

German naval ships did the same thing with saurkraut, and Germans were nick-named Krauts.  I could easily become addicted to saurkraut, too, but Limes are cheaper.

And although Limes were used for centuries to prevent scurvy, it was not until 1932 that anyone knew why.  It's the vitamin C, you see. 

Wikipedia, the online encyclopaedia, will tell you more about Limes and Scurvy than you need to know.

Return to Standard Time

This is the night when people will (1) set their clocks back to standard time when they go to bed, or (2) set their clocks back when they get up in the morning, or (3) most likely, forget to set their clocks.

But the OFFICIAL time to reset clocks is at 2 am daylight tme to 1 am standard time.

Since I am a night owl, I thought I might as well set the clock back at the official hour.  So in fifteen minutes it will be 1 am, all over again.

That will at the exact moment I get this posted.  I wonder what time will appear on the aol time stamp.on this entry. It takes about fifteen minutes for me to get this proof read , corrected, font set, and sent.

 

1961 Mustang

Joanne, a caregiver here at the old folks home, read my entry about tablemate Wilma who hides the jam dispenser in the napkin storage cupboard, and thought it was cute.

"What did Wilma say when she read it," asked Joanne.

"Heavens, I didn't show it to Wilma," I replied.  Joanne thought that was even funnier.

"Write about me," she said.

Okay, Joanne works on Saturdays only.  "What do you do the rest of the week," I asked her.

"I go to school."  But, not being a good reporter, I forgot to ask her what she is studying.

I love to see her arrive on Saturday. She drives in in her 1961 white Mustang convertible, with the top down. It is NOT a restored 1961 Mustang convertible  It is ORIGINAL.  And if it is missing a piece or two, you don't notice.  She is sporty and happy. 

I took a picture of it, and it looks new, but alas I cannot find the picture in the computer to show you here. 

So, Joanne, here is the entry about you. 

One A.M.

And I am a very unwilling participant.  Went to bed at ten pm and got so uncomfortable that I got up and took sleeping pills.  But here I am. 

Glad the Cardinals won the series.  Don't know why.  I have nothing against Detroit.

Didn't celebrate.  Went to bed instead.  But here I am.  Alas

LATER: Five AM.

Took a sleeping pill and actually had four good hours of sleep.  The world looks better now. 

Something New

Two A/M. That's the same.  What is different now is that I am officially on Assisted Living at the old folks home. 

That means a fifty percent raise in my rent, for my board and care.  Fifty percent  Wow. It also means that when I am ready to go back to bed, I pull a cord and a caregiver comes to help me transfer from wheel chair to bed.

It is  tough, and expensive, to lose your independence, but it comes with the age: eighty two.  (Most of the people my age are dead. Now isn't that a cheery thought for Two A.M.?)

I don't remember my birth, few of us do, but I remember the moment of my rebirth. That took place at a Radio Shack Store in 1979

I was idling there, probably buying electronic parts for some project or other and I spotted a computer.  That was new.  It had a keyboard like an adding machine, so I punched in a problem, say, four plus eight.  Nothing happened.

"So what's with the calculator? Nothing happens when I add four and eight," I tell the clerk.

"It did the math.  You have to tell it to PRINT so you can see the answer," said the clerk.  I thought that's pretty dumb. The adding machine on my desk knows to print the answer when you put in a problem. 

"But look at this," said the clerk typing in a line, and presto change-o, the computer instantly prints the times tables from one times one to twenty-five times twenty-five.  WOW said I. 

Before long, and a few visits later I bought a TRS-80,  I took it home and set it up at four pm and didn't move for eight hours.  I was hooked.

Twenty six years ago my computer had four kilobytes of RAM.  It loaded programs, from a cassette tape recorder, at 128 BPS, That's bytes per second, not Kilobytes, not Mega bytes, just bytes.

You had to write your own programs.  Nevertheless, I was hooked and have been ever since. 

That was my rebirth.  Today was my entry into old age.  That;s my life in the old folks home

Three A.M. Time to pull a cord and get helped back to bed.

Memories of My Days as a Teacher

Old Joke:

Rover, lay down. Damn it, Rover, lay down.

Excuse me, Sir, but Rover is an English Bulldog; you'll have to tell him to LIE down.

 

Spelling test

I used to test spelling by dictating sentences with the spelling words in them.  I used to say, "You pass the whole test if you write the first one correctly."  And the first one would be a sentence with the three "theres" in it, such as "They're going over there to get their books."

I rarely had any student get all the words right.

A preposition is a bad thing to end a sentence with.

Pity the poor English teacher who went upstairs to put his daughter to bed, and heard her say, "Oh, Daddy, why did you bring that book I didn't want to be read to out of up for?"

When I was a speech therapist

Daughter: Daddy, I want a dwink of wadoo.

Me: You want a DWINK of WADDO?

Daughter: (Panicked) No, no. I want a drrrink of rrrater.

 

Writer's Class

I got to writer's class and it was fun.  I was an hour and a quarter late beause the dial-a-ride bus was AN HOUR AND THREE QUARTERS LATE.

It is almost more trouble to get there than it is worth.

The topic was "songs that have meaning for us".  I got to sing my country song, My Dog Blue. 

A fifteen minute power writing topic, completed during the class was Halloween.  Almost all the seniors told about Halloween before "Trick or Treat" meant treat, and indeed meant Trick.  Several kinds of innocent vandalism were remembered, especially "Outhouse Tipping".

Did we all come from rural America?  Surely there weren't that many outhouses. 

Typos

I think I could cut down on the number of "typos" in my entries in my journal, if I would change the typeface. When text is entered, the face that it appears in the entry window, is not always the face that appears in the journal.

My favorite font, Comic Sans Serif, appears in the entry window in some other form, and it is tiny. I strain and struggle along trying to read the tiny print. I make lots of errors that I don't discover until I hit SAVE, and it appears in final form.  Then I have to go back and edit the entry.  Sometimes I give up, and leave the typo because the editing is too much trouble.

But this font, Verdana, appears nice and large in the entry window.  So this is a test, to see how it looks in final form. 

I think I'll stick with blue type on white background.

Opposites

What do a local hearing aid dealer and a math teacher have in common?

The are both volunteer piano players for the Old Folks Home where I live.  Both had bands when they were young. Both play wonderfully entertaining songs. But in a different respect, they are opposite.

The hearing aid dealer, a doctor, plays only by ear.  His repetoire is immense.  Call out a tune and he plays it. That's the way he puts together his play list, He sits at the piano, asks for requests, and when a title is called out, he tells a story about that tune, and plays it 

The math teacher, on the other hand, plays only from sheet music. "I like to play it the way it was written," he says. His repetoire is vast too, he has collected nearly 5000 songs in sheet music form.  As for requests, you have to make them a week ahead, so he can go through his files and select the msuic to bring.  He remembers what you ask for, and plays it, the next time he comes. 

The Math teacher brings a stack of music from his files, and plays through it, in alphbetical order.  "Today we're doing the S's," he will say.  We listen and guess the name of that tune.  It is a music performance and a quiz game.

George, the Math teacher is a favorite of mine, he encorages me to accompany him on my harmonicas.  He tells me the key the song is in, I select the correct harmonica and play along.  Funny, I can't solo, but I can accompany him by ear. And George comes twice a week and plays for a couple of hours each time. The hearing aid doctor came once a month. 

They are both great entertainers.

Book Review-preview: Running with Scissors

You can't really write a review until you have read the book, and I'm only on page 87 with 228 to go.  So here is what I MIGHT say if my 27% of the book is any indication.

The book is Running with Scisors by Augusten Burroughs.  I am reading it because it was handed o me, and because it is being made into a movie, and because I saw a television interview with Burroughs.

I want to know what makes it such a best-seller.  And I have figured out that you meet so many weird characters, that no matter how weird YOU are, compared to the characters you feel normal. So that's good, isn't it?  A book that make you feel good about yourself.

I'll probably have more to say about it after I read another 27%

Where's the Damn Jam?

All of us seniors at the old folks home have idiosyncracies, and one of the weirdest is that of my tablemate, Wilma.

Wilma gets to breakfast first.  For some reason she has taken a dislike to the little rack of indiviual servings of jam.  "That takes up too much space on the table," she says.  It doesn't.  It is a table for four and only two of use come to breakfast. But for some reason the jam rack annoys Wilma.

So she HIDES IT.

There is a napkin storage cupboard behind Wilma's chair, and, before I get there, she hides the jam in the cupboard and shuts the door. I arrive sip coffee and butter my toast, but... where's the damn jam? By now Wilma is back in her room, chortling no doubt, about the jam stash.

Every morning I have to go to the napkin cupboard and get the jam. No big deal, but curious and annoying.  I may have to speak to her about it.... again.

Crazy Like a Fox II

Watch the World Series on Fox.  On Fox?  How did Fox get into  this?  World Series has always been on NBC, hasn't it?  And ABC had Wonderful World of Sports featuring the thrill of victory and the...ah..agony of defeat.  Splat. Some strange isolated years CBS had the Olympics or the Series, but that was a fluke.  The World Series belonged to NBC.

And they paid dearly for the privilege.

How did Fox out bid them? That was risky.  If the Series happened to be dull, and sometimes it is, the advertisers would stay away in droves selling their soap, soup, suds, and such drivel elsewhere.  But the costs would go on.  Even with Tommy Lasorta making the promos, you have to have the ratings to pay the bills.  Tommy can only get you so many viewers.

CBS, keep your EYE on Fox, they're proud as a PEACOCK, NBC. Fox, the sports network.  It is enough to make ESPN shake in its boots.

Crazy Like a Fox

World Series tonight.  It is a wonderful culmination to summer. The best, or maybe just the luckiest, two baseball teams in the nation meet to settle just which league is toughest.

In the National League the pitcher has to take his turn at bat. In the American League the heavist hitter takes his place. Which makes for a better, fairer game? We have seven chances to find out. Some years it is one way, others it is the other.

The debate is moot.  The leagues are set in the ways, and baseball goes on.

Football goes on, too.  In spite of my warning to Professional Football, the game goes on with Defensive teams and Offensive teams.  I told them that unlimited substitution would ruin the game.  In my early years of watching, a player went in expecting, hoping to play the full sixty minutes.  But once a substitute came in for him, he was OUT of the game.  Period.  He became a spectator, just like me.

A Quarterback on offense was Tailback on defense. There were no offensive tackles and guards and defensive tackles and guards.  Just tackles and guards. When the ball changed hands, the players did not  run off the field and a new team rush in.  They just sighed and took their new positions and did the best they could.  To make the team, you had to be good on offense AND defense.

When the rules were changed, I told them, "You'll ruin the sport.  There'll be no 'sixty-minute-men' for us to worship. We'll have a bunch of specialists who can do only one thing.  Why, we'll probably have special Place Kickers to run in and kick field goals and points after touchdown, and then run off to drink Gatorade and warm the bench until the next time he is needed for a kickoff. Don't be spoil sports. Don't change the game."

Well, they changed it anyway, and, believe it or not, the game goes on. It goes on with it's pantywaist quarterback who con only throw the ball and duck our of the way of defensive guard who is approaching.  You want a few yards for a first down, you put in a full back the size of Mack truck to bulldoze his way through the defense. And as far as I can tell, the sport did not suffer.

So how about an Unlimited Substituon Rule for baseball.  The situation calls for a fastball, you put in your fastball pitcher. And the defense puts in it's fastball batter.  Now that's a contest.  The best against the best. 

Once the player gets on first, you put in a sprinter who can steal second in four seconds flat. If he gets to third you take him out and put in the home plate attack dog. A behemoth who can knock the poor catcher who has to guard the plate into the third row of the box seats.

If that comes to pass you will know it all started with the "designated hitter" who goes in just to bat for the pitcher. The pitchers who can hit, like Babe Ruth, are out of job, relegated to playing in the outfield.

Watch the start of the World Series tonight. You'll see what I mean.

One Little Pill

     For years I have had an old man's complaint. I have had to get up every two hours during the night to go to the bathroom. Once there I struggled to urinate. And it hurt.

   When the fequency increased to hourly, I was compelled to see a doctor about it. He gave me some professional samples of a certain pill.  "Take one at bed time. Only one," he said.

   That night I took one pill.

   And my problem was GONE. One pill.

    But because of habit, I get  up and come write in my journal.  Just think. one pill may have changed my journal entry behavior. I am less inspired to write in the middle of the night. Some of my best entries have been written in the middle of the night.

   Consider that one of the side-effects of the new drug.

Two AM Came Early

Here I am at my two AM journal entry post, and it is only Eleven thirty.  That is what happens when you go to bed at nine.

Well, the Cardinal-Mets games was over, so I turned in.  Cardinals get to meet Detroit in World Series tomorrow.  A couple of hours sleep, and I pop up eager to write.

Cardinals and Mets played game in the rain last night. It used to be that when it began to rain, a baseball game was stopped, the field covered with a tarp, and the game was delayed.  The players went into the club house to do whatever they do during delay..play cards, drink hot soup, whatever.  The fans huddled under grandstand roof and did whatever they did, too, like drink beer, boast and brag, wave silly little pennants.  When the rain stopped, the game resumed and they finished the game. 

If the rain kept up, spectators were given a "rain check" and told to go home.  The rain check could be redeemed as admission at some later game.  I think there was no money-back guarantee. 

Thank goodness for the Domes, covered arenas big enough to hold a whole baseball game.  If it rains, so what, you hold the game indoors.  Some Domes are convertible.  Nice day, put the top down...(actually roll back the top), if it starts to rain, put the top up.  I'd like that arrangement in a house.  You could even make it automatic, with a rain sensor to control the top, in case you were napping or out for a stroll.  

No need to go outside to view the stars at night.  Push a button and the roof rolls back, and you are there under the night sky.  I think that sounds romantic. As a  matter of fact, observatories have been doing that for years. 

Anyway, the game last night was a thriller.  A cliff hanger with each team in contention until the last out.  It aint over til it's over.  

My Two AM entry is finished, and it isn't midnight yet.  

AOL Overide

The new AOL Overide was difficult to install, hard to understand, and was unable to point me to all my old favorites, had no toolbar, and in general messed me up royally. The idea of something you can click on  the desktop that will put you on the internet sounds good.  Maybe it will work that way eventually. 

I was just getting to the point of being able to navigate around with the old system (9.0 Securtiy Edition SE) and the new one came out.  Oh, dear, more to learn. 

Not Enjoying It

Up at two am and NOT enjoying it.  Change of medication no doubt. But the change is working in other ways. 

Sigh, there is always a trade off.

Can't think of a single amusing thing to chat about.  Hmm, I was a big winner at the evening Rummy game. I enjoyed gloating about that.  The others took it in good spirits and teased back.

Ages of the  rummy players: 74, 82, 85, 87, 90,   IQ required to play the simplified version of Rummy that we play: 69.  Boring factor after the first two nights: 117%., and we play seven nights a week.  One usually has to win two hands to make a game.  We play about 8 to 10 hands each evening after supper. 

The same five of us play nightly.  Visitors drop in and watch the game, and are invited in, but usually decline.  Not everyone can stand such a juvenile game.  Most frequently heard comment:  That's not the way WE play Runmy.  Most frequent response: we had to "dumb the game down to our level".

The other night Jim and I were early, so we played a hand of Gin Rummy, and really had to THINK. We won't do that soon again. (Oh, the Gin game was weird.  We played it with our usual double deck of rummy cards, containing four Jokers.  Imagine Gin Rummy with jokers.)

The Rummy game started years ago when Jim and I used to play Cribbage after supper.  When a third person, Wilma, joined us the Cribbage got awkward. And when a fourth joined us, Ted, we had to switch games.  At other times we have tried Uno, Rook. Rummicubes, and even Dominoes, but we keep coming back to Old Folks Rummy, our "dumbed down" version of the children's  game. 

Doesn't it get boring?  Oh, my, yes.

(But it beats Bingo, the other Old Folks favorite.)

The Three Legged Bitch

   I once wrote a story about a "Three Legged Bitch", but I cannot remember it, nor can I find it.

   However, the title alone is enough to keep me looking.

Baseball Playoffs

St. Louis Cardinals won last night.  Now, it's back to New York for final games.  Cardinals have to win one, but New York Mets will have to win two in a row to earn a spot in the World Series.

Detroit is waiting in the wings while the National  League finishes it's business  Are they resting or are they "cooling off"?

I guess we will find out.  I think the series starts next week end. 

Nothing But a Link to Offer Tonight

Tonight's entry was posted in Dream Depository.

That's a sneaky way to publicize my new journal, isn't it?

Back at the Old Stand -- Early

    I am back at the old stand early tonight.  It is only 1:30.  I went to bed right after Two and a half Men, 9:30.  Got half my sleeping done, and now it is time to WRITE.

   Dial-a-Ride was good today.  They even came early.  I had to jump off the Internet and hustle when I got a call, "Chuck, your ride is here." I got to Art Class early, too.  Class was delightful.  About eight very talented, dedicated artists and myself  It is good to be in such skilled company.  Make me feel like an artist too, with my laptop Dell computer and my Paint progream as my medium.  The others are all ladies and they chatter about domestic things as they paint.  I sit and listen and mouse away. 

   The ride to class was exclusive, I was only one on the bus, but on the trip home we made four stops to let off other passengers and to pick up a couple.  Was a slow circuitous return. 

   Hmm, tonight I am leaving out words and letters as I type.  And spell check has been slow and tedious the last few nights, so I will probably skip it. 

   Worse than having to read through my typos, you have nothing here to read.  I cannot imagine a more boring entry. 

   Sorry, When I am good, I freely pat myself on the back, but I am not so quick to give myself a kick in the pants when I am bad.

   More tomorrow when I have something to say.

   Chuck, your un-proof-read journalist, closing his Blog for tonight

LATER: Four AM, and here I am back.  It seem like it was a mistake to go to bed ar 9:30, but I was so tired...

    One thing I miss, living in the old folks home, is the chance to go outside at night and look at the sky.  The moon is in the last quarter, so it is probably rising right now.  I'd love to go out and look, but it would mean too much fussing.  First, I'd have to dress.  They frown on naked men in the halls. I'd have to let a caregiver know I am going outside.  The doors have switches on them that announce over the caregivers phone: The Southeast Door is Open.

   But I'd like to go out and spot that rising moon, a crescent, as beautiful as new moon.  Question: why to crescent moons always have the points pointing upward?  It's true. New moons and old moons have the points upward.  .And the answer is, because the sun is shining on the other side of the earth. Glad I cleared that up for you.

   The patios and the south  garden at the home are all flood lighted.  No chance to see stars or moon there.  Even the parking lots are lighted.  We have successfullybanished night time around here.  Well, we are close enough to downtown so that you don't want a DARK night.  Spooks live in the gloom.

Bama Wmn tells me the Mets-Cardinals play off game has been postponed due to rain.  If they don't finish the play-offs, will they have to postpone the world series?  The series ran into November one year.

Before the Domes were invented, even the World Series got rained out from time to time.

4:40 AM... back to bed.  Next posting...ah, probably 6:15 AM

Yours truly, Sleepyhead

Insomniac Almanac -- Chapter Twelve

   Actually I'm not an insomniac.  I don't know what I am.  My routine this night was...

...slept one hour

...slept one hour

...slept one hour

...slept one hour

...got up and wrote in journal one hour

...slept two hours

...got up and wrote in journal, and here I am

    I got six hours of sleep.  You can't call that insomnia.  It is just that I got out of bed, into my wheel chair and back to bed six times during the night.  That's more peripatetic than insomniac.

   So here I am: UP.  And it is not even daylight yet.  It is too early to dress and go outside.  The street lights are still on. Carl's Jr will open in forty-five minutes, or there will even be coffee here at the old folks home.  In a couple of weeks we will shift back to Standard time. Fall back, remember. It will be daylight at this same hour.  The hour changes, not the daylight. We try  to stretch the useable daylight during the summer by fooling ourselves by changing the hour.  Mother nature does her thing without fail.

    Twice a year we upset our cycadian rhythmn by juggling the clock, and we do every year, even those years we juggle the calendar with leap day in February. Residents of Arizona steadfastly refuse to change their clocks with the rest of us clock jugglers.  Well, they are on the extreme west edge of their time zone, so they can afford to do it that way, don't you see.  But so are people in Nevada, and they go along with the rest of us.  Hail, Arizona, stand your ground. It is just a matter of who is the boss, the clock or us.

   If you call his tail a leg, how many legs has a jackass?  Five? No, Four.  Calling his tail a leg doesn't make it one. Calling Seven AM daybreak this month and Six AM datbreak next month doesn't fool anyone.  Well, yes it does, and if you forget to change your clocks you will show up for work an hour EARLY.  That is better than forgetting to change your clocks in the spring.  In that case you  show up an hour LATE and your pay check will be docked.

   I once used an entire journal entry explaining my proposed TEN HOUR clock.  The response was under-whelming. I won't do that again.

Insomniac Almanac -- Chapter Eleven

   Back at the old stand - Three AM in front of the computer.  I wonder why it seems so much longer booting up at three AM.

   I slept all right until three. But now I am awake and thinking about my class tomorrow, the dial-a-ride bus, and how to confirm my pick up.  They let me sit in front of the old folks home last week, finally arriving an hour and half late, and then leaving before I could talk to the driver.

   Also I am thinking about my class work tomorrow.  I plan to study colors, finding how to select complimentary colors without a color wheel, only a mathematical chart.  I plan to make a tangle of colored wires, or strings, or yarn, and then test the various colors to find harmonious combinations.

   My teacher, who is my daughter, has a wonderful color sense, and I will try to tap her knowledge on how to choose good combinations.  I wonder if her good color skills are inate or whether they come from the hours of observation and practice she has put in on them. I remember her teen years and the living room floor covered with posters and projects.

   She is married to a musician, who is as skilled in his art as she is in hers. His skill is the result of years of study and practice, but he comes from a musical family.  Is there some inate, in-born tendancy?  When people tell him,  "Oh, I'd give anything to have your skill in music," he thinks, "Oh, really, would you give up all your play time as a kid, and put it in, sitting at a piano, practicing tedious scales hour upon hour? I did." 

   I wonder what MY inate skills are, of if I have any. If I could go back in time, and talk to the youngster who was me, and tell him to hone and sharpen his natural talents, whatever they may have been, would he?  Probably not.  He was too busy with his friends, putting out a weekly mimeographed newspaper, The Sunmont Bee, or broadcasting music from his record player to friend's radio via a long wire stretched to his radio.

   Suddenly I'm chuckling.  We had to string the wire across a neighbor's yard without his knowing.  Or maybe he did know, and just tolerated the kids on either side of him.

   Maybe I did hone my inate skills. I love to write.  Could that have been in-born?  I love to write so much that I get up in the middle of the night to do it. "Chuck, I'd give anything to write like you." 

   Oh, yes? Would you give up precious hours of sleep at night, getting out of a soft bed to sit in front of a computer, tediously typing, correcting, and rewriting?  Well, I do.

Free Flight

I was delighted to find that Mapquest now has aerial photos paired with the maps they show.  I was able to see an aerial photo of the old folks home in which I live. I could see details like cars in the parking lot, and roof top coolers.  I could not find my own car, but I noticed that on the day the photo was taken our bus was parked in front of the main door.  I could estimate that the photo was taken two years ago since I could see piles of construction materials in our back parking lot an the remodeling was two years ago.

Then my using the arrows on the photo I could "fly" east over the nearby market, and on.  I flew over my daughter's house, and on.  I flew over the University of California, Merced, (at least the campus as it was under construction two years ago) and on over Lake Yosemite.

I continued flying east over the back roads I have wondered about.  As I have driven the back roads of Merced County I have wondered, what's over that hill.  I spotted lakes and creeks and streams that I had only known on maps. I could follow the trace of the old Chinese laborer built wall through the back country.  Over a hundred years ago labor was cheap and ranchers used Chinese laborers to hand build walls between their ranches using the field stones that lay littering their fields.  Those walls are still visible from the air today.

   I continued my flight into Mariposa county.  I became a little lost, I merely clicked on a map icon, and map lay over my route.  From time to time I had to zoom out, equivalent to increasing my aircraft altitude to get my bearings, but when I knew where I was, I was zoom down again so I could see individual building.

   I flew on to the tiny town of Hornitos, CA, which, over a century ago was county seat, then a booming mining community.  Then I aimed my aircraft up, becoming a space ship and climbed higher so I could see the whole of Merced.  Another click and I was high enough to see the whole central valley of California and the Pacific coast.  I clicked again I was high enough to see Alaska, Canada, and most of North America.

  I decided that was high enough, so I clicked again, the red X in the upper right hand corner of my window, and I was... seated in my chair in front of the computer screen.

Breathless.

Nightly Visit

Here I am, making my nightly visit to the journal. 

I enjoy this moment.  I review the journal and read the comments.

And I get ideas for new works: say, make the tubs all black.  What would that do?  Or, save those shades of blue in a tiny pallet and re-create the design with spray can, drawing the main path on top of them in white. 

Last night I literally dreamed up an episode for a story I am writing about life in a beach resort community.

And as I write this, the television is quietly playing classical music and there is a music appreciation lesson going on.  You don't get that in daytime, only day time drama. (Soap Operas)

Sleep?  I can do that in the daytime, usually right after the heavy lunch. Let the fish or beef or chicken digest.

Hmm, did you know that Schonberg moved away from tonality and after Tristan and Isolde, music was changed forever. You don't hear stuff like that in daytime.

I could stay up all night, but I think I'd better not.

Art Class -- Re-evaluating

Garnett looked at my Art Class project and suggested a swan.  A swan? On my nice abstract fountains?

No, thanks Garnett, I don't think so.

Art Class

I have made you wait...and wait...while I figured out how to transfer a file from the lap top to the desk computer.  Finally, I did it...whew.

I took my lap top to art class, and used the Paint program as my medium.  While others worked in paints or pastels, I worked in Dell Lap top. 

So here is my first effort at doing an art lesson in computer.

It does not look like three hours work, does it?  But it was, and tedious work.  It is a WORK IN PROGRESS.  I need to give those "fountains", if that is what they are, something to stand upon.  Now they look like they are floating in the air.

OH, wait a moment... here's the next draft... (lunch inspired me...I got back to work on it.)

New Sit-com

A new sit-com starts tonight that I am going to enjoy.  I watched a pre-view on AOL and it was hilarious.  It features John Lithgow and Jeffery Tambor and it called Twenty Good Years.

Care to join me?  I'll make the pop-corn.

Hey, Dave

Pardon me while I use my journal for a bit of personal communication:

 "Hey, Dave.  Sorry I missed class today, expecially since you were leading.  The Dial-a-ride bus did not show up.  In frustration, I watched four busses go by without stopping.  It finally arrived an hour and half late, and then left before I could speak to the driver. Also I don't have your email address nor your cell phone number, so I hope you will email me your address or phone.  Sincerely, Chuck."

Thanks, I needed to tell Dave about my problems.

 

Dream Depository

Hey, do you dream at night? Is it something you can share?

Visit my new journal Dream Depository.

Read about dreams, talk about dreams, share your dreams...day or night.  Someone may have an insight that you will find helpful.

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

Remember George Bulwer-Lytton?  He started his 1830 novel Paul Clifford with that famous sentence: It was a dark and stormy night.

How much fun it would be, thought I, to see what I could do with that line.  I added a drill sentence, stressing the SH sounds, from Grant Fairbanks Voice and Articulation Drillbook, 1940, A flash of lightening showed a fishing ship in the shallows close to shore. In one great crushing motion the ocean dashed it against the shoal.

Voila, I had the start of a novel.  And I gushed on for 1622 words more.  Wow, Karen, I have started a novel.  All I need to do is do that 22 more times and then run to my publisher.

My novel starts thus:

It was a dark and stormy night. A flash of lightening showed a fishing ship in the shallows close to the shoal. With one great crushing motion, the ocean sent it crashing onto the shore.

The horrified watchers gasped in horror as the cabin collapsed and shattered, but three figures in rain slickers could be seen clambering free of the wreckage. The three leaped into the waist deep water and started for shore.

The receding wave tugged at the three as they struggled forward against the current barely keeping their feet, and the hulk of the ship began sliding back into the sea. Some of the watchers ran forward into the water and helped the three on to the dry sand.

Safely ashore the three all began a strange behavior: they began laughing, all three in seeming concert.

One of the three was woman in her fifties. She shouted, apparently at the ocean, “Dry sand. This is dry sand we are on. You didn’t get us, and now you can’t. Furious you are, aren’t you? But we’re on the land.”

Another of the three, a man, told the rescuers, “A few minutes ago we were lost. Only yards from shore, we were lost, and the boat was breaking up. We were dying, a few minutes ago. We were doomed, but now, here we are on dry land.”

“Come inside,” said the rescuers leading the trio into a cabin.

“No, wait,’ exclaimed the woman. “I’m not through.” She faced the ocean again and threw off her rain slicker. She was bare. “See. See what you missed, you miserable beast, you lying bastard” She turned and strode into the cabin naked. “Have you got some clothes I could borrow,” she asked as casually as if requesting tea and crumpets.

My Job

Six AM and I am glad I do not have to punch a time clock.  I have a pension and a GI disability allowance. Thank you, taxpayers for the later.

I could sleep more if I wanted to. Instead I can rise when I want and retire when I want. My fellow resident, Jim, sleeps 'til noon and retires sometime in the early morning. I hated the regimen of work, but put in my years, and now I set my own hours.

Some of my fellow residents wish they COULD work.  Retirement is not for everyone.  I had a great-grandfather who retired in the early part of his life, when leisure is especially valuable, and then at age fifty went to work in a hardware store for the rest of his life.  Makes sense, for some.

Oh, I have given myself a job: un latch the garden gates in the morning and close them at sundown. No one hired me to do it, and without my attention it would not get done, and who cares. It keeps transients out of the garden and away from the building at night, but I am not sure they would come in anyway, nor that the latches keep them out if they are determined prowlers.  We once had transients sleeping under the thick bushes in the parking lot, but they haven't been back since the gardeners trimmed the bushes radically.

What does one do with himself if he has no work to go to?  Some read, wander the halls, watch television.  Bingo is very popular here at the old folks home: three times a week.  Listening to the call of random numbers is one way to spend your leisure time. Our nightly rummy game consumes an hour a day, but, my, it gets boring from time to time.

I am starting two classes weekly.  One an Art class, taught by my daughter, and the other a writing class for seniors.  Mostly we write nostalgia pieces and try to explain to  the modern generation what things were like in the "old days".

But the best is my Blog.  I have just spent forty minutes in pleasurable chit-chat with you, my friends.

Insomniac Almanac -- Not

Three AM, my usual time for making entries in the Insomniac Almanac, but I've been sleeping very well tonight, thank you.

Just thought you'd like to know. 

Back to bed. G'night.

A Different View

I sat out in the sun beside Chris, 99.  He says life is too LONG.  He wishes he had died seven years ago, when his wife did, in a car crash.

I have just written life is too SHORT.  There's more to do than time to do it. I didn't argue with him. Life is too short for that.

I wonder if I will change my view?  What about YOUR life: too long or too short?

My Nameless Paint Blog

Several people have had success viewing my new blog of Paint projects, so I guess it is safe to say, "Come visit my Paint Blog."

I am storing my projects that I create in Paint program.  That's the one that comes with many computers.  I have tagged each with an explanation of how it was created. That's the idea, to show my pictures and how they came to be. And you can leave comments: please do.

Or you can view as a slide show.  That's quicker and eliminates my self-agrandizing dribble.

Come to the grand opening.  Tea and biscuits are being served just down the hall..

Click on CHUCK'S NAMELESS PAINT BLOG.

 

First Attempt at Picture Blog

I have attempted to start a picture Blog of my Paint projects.  I THINK you can access it by clicking on http://www.flickr.com/photos/63257385@N00/?saved=1

Let me know if you can get on without registering. Or leave a comment if it doesn't work.

At any rate, it won't be as disasterous as my efforts to put movies in my journal.

Ga-Ga Over Google

There have been remarkable inventions in my life time, nuclear power, television, space exploration, but the least hearalded and most powerful may be the search engine, Google.

Google somehow prowls through the entire internet and finds the exact phrase or precise person you want to know about, and LINKS to it.  Talk about wonderful, or even Google Wonderful, and this is it.

For example, I put a silly little poem in my journal, and Dave, a reader, was able to ascertain that it was an original, not a real bit of literature by using Google.

Another example.  A line from a musical has popped into my head: We're so Gol Dern stubborn, we can stand touching noses and never see eye-to-eye.  I'd like to know the rest of the words to that song.  So, as soon as I post this, I'm going to Google that line.  Betcha I can find the rest of the song, order a copy online, pay for it online, and sing it for you next week.

Later: found it.

It was a line about Iowa. We're so By-God stubborn we can stand touching noses for a week and never see eye-to-eye..

Well, I'm not gonna order it or sing it, but I COULD.

It is Two AM -- Again

It is two AM again, only this time, I embrace it.  No insomnia.  I have had four good hours sleep, and will be going back for three more. I just stopped by on way to bathroom. Thought I'd look in on J-land.

I must have been dreaming, but I have no idea what it may have been.  I think that is the sign of a clear conscience: you dream but do not remember them. We tend to remember those heavy dreams that we produce when we are troubled.

My troubled times give me my LOST dream.  In that kind of dream, I am away from home and trying to get back and inumerable obstacles prevent it.  I have been trapped in mud, lost in a huge courtyard of Doric columns, wandering around the neighborhoods of my childhood. Usually in my dreams I am walking again, though once in a while I have a dream in which I am in my wheelchair.

I still toy with the idea of a DREAM REPOSITORY in which J-landers can make entries of their dreams as soon as they have them, while they are fresh in their minds.  Others can make comments about them.

Also I am toying with the idea of a picture blog on FLICKR.COM which would consist merely of my designs in Paint.  Or a picture blog of old back and white photos.  I have deposited some designs in Flickr already, but not sure how to access them or make them public yet.  I have so many things to explore.  I have no time to be old.  I have no time for doctors or hospitals.

When I complain about my old age ailments, people ask me, "What does the Doctor say about that?"  I have to admit I am too busy to see a doctor.  I have no time to waste getting the machine in which I live in working order.  Even if  I get it in perfect working order, it is old and the next part will wear out and I will have to spend time on that. Just wheel me up to my computer, or to my next class, and park me there. 

Life is too short, even if it eighty-two years long.  I suspect that Methusela said the same thing on his 900th birthday.  I can almost hear him saying, "Holy cats, someone help me blow out these candles, so I can get on with my life."

French Poetry

                                    MATIN

                         By Jacques O. Wien

                      A little known poet of France

 

I'm just a little Prison rat,

   Waiting for my bacon fat.

In the morning, when I'm wakin',

  'Tis then I wonder, Where's my bacon?

Weekend Assignment #132 -- Cell Phones

Weekend Assignment #132: Have people completely lost all sense of courtesy when it comes to their cell phones?

No.  "Some people" have, of course.  Some people still drink and drive, some people smoke around non-smokers, some people spit and swear in public.  But people, most people, have adjusted nicely to this inovation in communication.

My family put me on their family plan. Wonderful convenience.  It sure has been handy when my scooter stalled, or I have been lost, or I showed up at the wrong place or the wrong time.  But it is not on most of the time.

I think the time is coming when ALL phones will be portable and we will carry them with us.  The "home" phone will disappear.  A new set of manners will appear, and phone calls will not take precedence over face to face conversations.  Some sort of "Hold my calls, Miss Blue" will be built in, and people will still deal with one another in person, with the phone in a distant background. 

Extra credit: Have you ever answered your phone at an inappropriate time?  No, but my talking watch has announced the time, out-loud, during church and quiet musical presentations.  I forgot to mute it before the meeting began

And cell phoning while driving is serious no no.  But there again, I was an even worse offender.  I was a ham operator and had a ham radio in the car, and I used to try to drive and have a QSO (radio conversation) while driving IN MORSE CODE, tapping out my answers on a telegraph key attached to the radio.  That was really stupid, and I quickly gave up on that folly, but not before I had tried it.. 

Difference of Opinion

This morning at breakfast, I was thinking to myself how lucky I am to live in this old folks home (Assisted Living Facility) when my tablemate interrupted my thoughts by saying,  "I am sick to death of living in this damn place."

Expanding my Horizons

Suddenly, at age 82, I am blossoming..  I have just called the city bus to pick me up weekly and take me to art class.  I have a project in mind.  Instead of paints or drawing media, I will take my Dell laptop computer containing a Paint program.  I will try to do the lesson for the day, whether design or color oriented, on my laptop.

Also I am scheduled weekly to go to Writers Class at the Senior Center.  Maybe the laptop would be good there too.  Haven't considered that yet.  Perhaps I could get online from there, wireless, and be a research resource for the writers.  LOL.  I keep making up projects for myself.

Here at the old folks home, I sit and listen to George our volunteer piano player.  When he tells me what key he is playing in, I can accompany him on my harmonica.  Also I list the songs he has played and compile a complete compendium of his music.  I made up that assignment for myself.

Also, I assigned myself to unlock the back garden in the mornings and lock it up at night.  We haven't had any prowlers...but we MIGHT. Anyway it is something to do.  Also I appointed myself to tally the scores of our nightly rummy game.  Another self appointed individual, Jim, records the scores and keeps them in a book.  (Why? I don't know why? I suppose, like me, it is to keep busy.))

I also take pictures of the activities that take place here, print them on my desk top computer, and post them on the bulletin board. (Using push pins I had to buy at Staples.)

I decided that Talking watches, for seven dollars, was a good buy.  So I ordered half a dozen, and sell them at cost to residents who want them.  Saves them the trouble of ordering them from a catalogue.

I have a sore arm from patting myself on the back.

What? Again?

Another morning at 2:30.  And here I am again.  It's getting to be a habit.  Wonder why.  Sleep comes in little one hour segments.  I get in more dreams that way, anyway. 

What takes the computer so long to start up?  What mysterious things is it doing from the time I turn it on until it is ready to let me access my journal?  At least geting on AOL is easier now with broadband.  Imagine what start up and getting on line will be in a few years: Whoosh, and here you are.  I can't wait.

I had another nice day, Tuesday.  Less drama, but self satisfying nevertheless.  Included a trip to Staples to buy computer supplies: ink and paper, and some push pins.  The pins are for posting my creations on the bulletin board.  Somehow the pins I put in yesterday are gone today when I have something to add.  So I bring my own pins now. I wonder if Luther used Staples' push pins to post his theses to the church door.  Perhaps I am starting my own Reformation.

I have accepting friends here at the old folks home.  The accept my foibles and eccentricities.  They have a few of their own as well.  I hope I am as accepting of them as they are of me.

We had one problem with life at the old folks home yesterday: sharing.  We Rummy players have our card shuffler and decks of cards ready on the card table for our nightly game right after supper. We leave them there.  But,alas, in a shared community, others use the game room at other times, and use our cards too.  And yesterday they mixed our twin decks of cards with the hunderds of cards that other players have left from years gone by.  So five of us were trying to sort out two decks of cards from the hundreds of cards in a huge pile.  It was chaos.  Red decks, blue deckss, bicycle backs, carpet backs, and others. "Do you see any more red bicycle back diamonds," you would hear, or "Need a seven of spades here,: and, "I have three seven of spades here.  What back do you need?"  Today we have to get a couple of fresh decks, or we will have to give up on Rummy tonight.

And the shufflers.  The batteries get weak and the sufflers begin to balk.  Now we have two sufflers.  I take one home and put in fresh batteries, and hide it until the other begins to falter, then I swap, keeping at least one operating nightly.

The biggest topic of conversation at table is "What day is it?"  Somehow all the days run together for old folks. But the funny part is, we argue about it.  How can you argue about the day of the week?  It is WEDNESDAY or it ISN'T. Arguing will not change things.  Neither will arriving at a concensus.  If the folks in the dining hall vote three to two that it is Wednesday, that will not make it Wednesday if yesterday was actually Monday.  Thank goodness Bingg comes the same days each week.  Helps keep the week in order. Monday, Bingoday, Wednesday, Bingoday, Friday, Bingoday (half an hour earlier), Sunday. Week after week, and every week seems the same as the week before, and how they FLY by.  It is getting on toward Halloween again and it was just Halloween recently.  Oh, that was last year? My how the years fly by.

Oh, oh, here go the paramedics down the hall with a stretcher. No, they won't tell you who they are here to see.  Well, we will know soon enough.  Send not to see for whom the bells toll.  They toll for thee.  The paramedics will call on you soon enough.  Everyone needs them from time to time.

Yesterday was a good day.  Rummy, dinner, paramedics, shopping.

Two-thirty AM

Here I am at the keyboard at my most ususal time for making entries: 2:30 AM.  No, no insomnia this time.  I have been sleeping. Sleeping in short naps, anyway with frequent trips to the bathroom.  But as I passed the computer, I thought I would fire it up and tell what a great day I had yesterday.

Started with a light rain, the first of the season, and I enjoyed getting out and making Mudpuddle art with the wheels of my power chair. There weren't many puddles and when I had made tracks in all that were suitable, I snapped some pictures and put them here in the journal. (See entry below)

Then the bus from the old folks home was making an unscheduled run for "sight-seeing", so I seized the opportunity to get a ride to the Art Class my daughter teaches at the local college.  I grabbed my lap top and was delivered to the class.  My plan is to take the lap-top with the Paint program, and use that as my media, and follow the painting lessons, in Paint.

Whoops, I was an hour early. This was my first visit and I was confused.  But I played my harmonica and sat in the sun for the hour.

Daughter came, and brought a sandwich for lunch to share. Class convened, and I brought out my lap-top to demonstrate my plan...and LO.  The battery was dead.  I didn't know the computer could be on while the top was closed.  I had run the battery down without ever opening the top. So I met the other students, and enjoyed their art work but left early.

On my scooter, I trundled the two and half miles to home, stopping at the market. I had a delicious nap, if a nap can be called "delicious" .Then I rose and proceeded to do the art lesson on the desktop computer.

Using the Mudpuddle Art that I had made in the morning as a pattern, I created a design in Paint.

That took until supper.  After supper I played Rummy with the gang, and I won.  I even had a couple of "pat" hands.  A "pat" hand is one in which you are dealt all the cards you need to "go out", and win, and catch your opponents with hands full of cards which you add to YOUR score.

I scooted about a bit after dark, to the parking lot and back and out to latch the gates of the south garden, keeping us secure from wandering prowlers.  A bit of television, Studio 60 I think it is called, and to bed.

Now is that a day and half all in one, or not?

 

Mudpuddle Art -- Powerchair Version

The first rain of the season yesterday and last night.  So this morning I was out in my powerchair making Mudpuddle Art -- Powerchair Version

The Powerchair swivels and pivots in place, making nice florals and circles.

Powerchair working fine, but having trouble getting photos posted today.

My favorite puddle is rather small.  We need more rain.

Fancy That.

Sunday Seven and Saturday Six

Patrick asks us to study ourselves and then tell the world about it.

1. You're arranging to move. If money were no object, would you hire movers to come in and pack your belongings as well as drive them, or would you prefer to do the packing yourself? I usually pack my own stuff, but would rather have someone else do it all.  If some stuff gets lost, well, that is better than my having to sort and throw it out myself.

2. Of the new shows that have premiered so far this season, which were you most looking forward to seeing? I think it is called Studio 60 with guys from West Wing.

3. Did the show live up to your expectations? No.  It looks like it going to be okay, but no West Wing

4. Take the quiz: What type of lunatic are you? I took the quiz and it said I was normal. Really?

5. What habit of yours would you say is the craziest? I may be crazy, but not crazy enough to answer that.

6. What do you own more of:VHS Tapes, CDs, DVDs or Books? Tapes.  When I finish a book I give it away. But tapes contain family movies, movies I'd love to see again. I have hardly any CD's, but I love 'em.  They were made by members of my family.

Rain

   Hey.  It's rain.  I was out in it, getting rained on, ON PURPOSE.

   Then I made some practice Mud Puddle Art pictures with the tire tracks of my power chair.

   Gonna be a great season.  Remember this Mud Puddle Art from last year?