A bit chilly here, but it is damp Springtime in the NW

I put a favorite sweatshirt on to keep my warmth from fleeing. It is bright (like I was once) yellow (which I dare you to call me). It is comfortable, not very stylish, I have a rule, hoods can be better than hats, long sleeve is better than none, and that big belly pocket can replace gloves and keeps all kinds of stuff. I, like this sweatshirt, once functioned well in adverse weather - jogging along the road.

But upon closer examination, it resembles me too much now - wrinkled, weathered, worn and to the uncaring - worthless. Can't figure out if it was the running or the washing the sweat and dirt out that wears at it so much.

I leave you with a picture, remember that I am a very married man, and kept around for warmth, utility and memories of another time.

Time to get into the yard...

Read Isaiah 49 vs 13-22, it helped me a bit. Oklahoma knocked the foolishness in D.C. off the television, until this morning. We are between rain storms but just until tomorrow. A cousin and his family are waiting on an airplane for lift off to vacation, but they are together and safe. As I was watching the early reports and films from Oklahoma - I saw the communities, so hard hit, just coming together to get things right, just like the Texas town with the big explosion after the fire. That may be the problem in the Blues states - waiting for someone to take care of the problem, not knowing that they are the one everyone else is waiting upon. Yes, I am talking to you. Be good out there.

Up before the Sun, here anyway.

Couldn't keep sleeping, I am such a failure. But at  three in my morning darkness, I know that it is after the Sun has risen on the Mohawk Valley and people in Boston are wandering to work - wondering where the Revolution went, although I hold that New England could never get as far from the Mother Country as they pretended. It isn't called New England because it is an island.

At church I was asked why all the Appleseed events are in Eastern Washington, I blamed the culture of Seattle, but that isn't totally true. Mostly, many shooters are comfortable with their skill level, firearms, their local ranges and are quiet law abiding folks with real lives. The Appleseed events depend on personal experience and participation. If you think you are doing fine, you don't need the AS, but if you don't want to be the last rifleman in Western Washington, the Appleseed Organization would appreciate your participation. The program needs to expand, must become a valued part of a normal life.

When I explained I was going to Idaho for an Appleseed event, and to Oregon next month, he had a better idea of the distance and what it takes to make it happen. Border raiders needed. Still checking on posting from another shooter I find he is blaming his improved performance in competition on his Appleseed experience. What is taught is sound, and the NRA and CMP have the same basic marksmanship, what I think sets the RWVA and Appleseed events apart for making Riflemen is the teaching, coaching and constant reinforcement of the steps, over and over.

Finally, the Sun also rises, and only FOX tells the news at  the same time across the Time Zones, how cool is that? Very, don't get three hour old stale news. I am researching plans and thoughts on a reloading bench. Today I visit the Home Depot for stuff, after mowing the backyard and back behind the fence. Have a great day!

Wore my NRA fleece thingee today...

I know nothing about fleece - to me that was always a sheep skin with the hair still attached, I am so old. Don't get excited I went out to rake the clippings up from the the yard. Seems I had not made my wife happy leaving them when I went off to shoot and visit the YMCA. It is a damp cool here in the Great Northwest.

I cut the front yard since there was rain on the way, but it was a dry as it was ever going to get. So I put my gear into the van after washing off the mower and putting it away. And off to the range. Range 15.  When I sign in they offer point fifteen, which I pointed out that the old man always used. I have been calling him the old man for about twelve years (sometimes I don't look in a mirror much). They told me if he wasn't here before they opened he wasn't coming, and they are probably correct. I took that point and set up.

It wasn't going to be a lot of shooting for me, I figured sixty rounds of 22LR. Enough to check my marksmanship, just enough. And it was going to rain and the YMCA called - plus I was going to clean up the yard after all my good times. So I shot the Green quick AQT, five rounds per target, standing, sitting open legged, and prone.  Then I started walking the line to check out the other shooters, since there were three of us on the pistol side of the range - over half the shooters were rifle users, and there was a waiting list on the rifle positions.

So I looked, talked and enjoyed the day without gunning down hundreds of innocents, no matter what the anti-gun crowd will tell you. I finished my AQT and was rushed on my last three shots, which seem to have been my best. Making me think that I am thinking too much about each shot, just enough would be best. Or so I say.

Pack up and head off to the YMCA, mentioning to the fine staff at the range that having black coffee would be a good thing. Just a light workout at the YMCA, 3,1 miles of rowing, and five miles of bicycle machine. Then I went to fill up the van, and it cost me sixty-five dollars - what is going on? Is the dollar sinking that fast? Yep, seems to be so.

While at the YMCA I talked to another old man, about his desire to buy a pistol for protection, he is getting training, hasn't purchased a firearm yet, and really hasn't gotten through the shooting another person yet. I did ask him the important point, how many times has he been mugged, robbed or assaulted? Zero, and he is over seventy. So much of his information was wrong about the local laws, and he is cautious about trusting the sales people for advice. Still he is much sharper than Michael Moore advising Bill Maher about home self defense. It is on video, don't waste your time.

Drama and truama... life goes on...

The roof needed cleaned, so we hired a high pressure wash for the cleaning roof and gutters - I am such a coward, and I don't own a pressure washer. So when I returned from the YMCA yesterday, there was a truck with ladders and equipment and a man, so I said hello and asked him if he knew what day it was. He did, I often have no idea, but he knew. He was a day early to clean the roof, his name was Tom and he could come back tomorrow.  Nah, he could start and finish today, even better.

He did a fine job. But still had to borrow - a rake, a trash container, paper and a pen. The last two for a receipt of the cash for the job. While cleaning up the gutters and under the eaves he was surprised by a very fast bird, since the washer was cleaning out the nest the bird flew straight at the attacker and he lost concentration. Ever had something jump at you from a dark hole? it is always a snake, or large rat or ferret, isn't it? Well, the high pressure washer will take paint off as quickly as moss and mold (same stuff in many ways). So now I have new gang graffiti on my home, and will have to repaint the whole area later.

I had forgotten to tell him to miss that area. The nesting pairs had been coming back for years and years. I liked them dancing and darting and catching bugs in flight. I felt very bad. I didn't go to church that evening and ate too much - nullifying all my good work at the YMCA. Sigh. My wife made sure she gave the worker a Coke and an orange, he had also cleaned the concrete on the walkway and driveway, it looked good. After dinner I went back to reading Ken  Follett's Fall of Giants, first volume of the Century Triology.

Well, when I woke I decided to clean up some record keeping and looked up some file maintenance on the computer. I have been using the YMCA since mid-December, my weight is down twenty pounds. Good news, I still am a fat man but I have some harder muscles and could continue to improve in many ways. Slowly, but still headed in the proper direction. You want more good news? Well there is a very familiar bird building a nest under the eave, it stared at me with stuff in its beak, daring me to do that again. I won't, I am happy and the Sun is shining.

In the news today...

Nothing of note, unless you find that the government can't be trusted to be news. You shouldn't be concerned, after they forgive themselves and clean up the public opinion and media slants - the government will go back to being corrupt and worse - incompetent.

I had airborne dreams, again. Nice thing about dreaming of jump operations they are mellow dreams, I never had to jump into places they were trying to kill me and I them. Helicopters  or tracks are a different matter, and walking is scary in dreams because that in the end is really how one gets close enough to get killed. Although mines and booby traps were around and common enough in my wars, the IED thing is levels of ugly beyond my experience - so my nightmares are fine, thank you.

My wife will be cleaning clams today, and the fern tips she brought back from her hiking trip yesterday are drying on the back porch. I had fresh oysters on Monday - all I have to do is wait for her to return with the harvest and cook it up.

There aren't any old soldiers out there, we are dying off. But I made corporal on a blood stripe, another corporal was reduced to PFC for some transgression and I was given his stripes. It doesn't happen that way now, but when you could only promote to vacancies in your unit, that was one of the ways it was done. While a corporal they sent me off to the Advanced Combat Training Academy, a four week course north of the Imjin River but still south of the American portion of the DMZ. At the end of my second week the Battery Commander and his driver (the unit clerk) visited me and checked on my progress. After talking to me and checking with the cadre they left and drove back to the unit. I was second in the class at graduation, and had watched three people lower in class standings get promoted on stage by their battalion commanders, real promotions and a real pay raise. My battalion commander gave me acting sergeant stripes for my reward, the battalion headquarters always seemed so far from the battery in those days. No pay raise for Earl, but I would have spent it wildly anyhow. The top man in the class got a promotion to Staff Sergeant, a real one with the big bucks. If I told you the change in pay in 1968 dollars you would laugh. I was disappointed that my battalion hadn't been able to give me a real promotion but never mentioned it, kind of.

When I got back to the unit I had my orders for a real promotion in about a week. The date of rank was to two weeks earlier than my graduation so I out ranked all those except the Staff Sergeant promoted on that stage. The unit clerk/BC driver had put in the request for my promotion when he and the commander had returned and the commander had checked with the First Sergeant and signed it. So I proudly put the Imjin Scout patch on my fatigue shirt pocket and become the Fire Direction chief and stand by Forward Observer Sergeant for the FO team. Only three officers in the battery in those days, Vietnam ate up LTs.

Grey skies and gentle rain making the spouts tinkle...

This is the weekend I love 'feminism', you know that silly idea that women are the equal of men, and much other foolishness about the position and possibilities of the other gender. I have always known I was supposed to put women on a pedestal and pay them homage.

Being very old and hoping to become older I will confess that I don't know nor understand women, when I was young I thought I knew everything - see what happens when everything starts slip-sliding away? I can become humble.

My mother worked very hard to love me and make me the best of her and Dad's love. That I am not better is not their fault, what is best about me likely is... 

It is Mother's Day, and I remember mine, and my son's, and then start to roll through my memory of quiet talks with other mothers that had time to nurture me along the way. What mothers have spills over to other than their immediate family and bring grace, forgiveness and civilization to my world. Being a male, means that I need a lot of civilizing. So thank you all Mothers that have shared your best for my moments.

And for all you women that think being a mother is not the most important thing for you to do in your life, for God and country and your heart, you don't know Jack. And I am sad for your loss.