How can I get back to normal?

As I heat up some coffee this morning, I am thinking I should have a plan. I came back from the Appleseed tired, finished the Internal After Action Report (IAAR) for the Poulsbo Appleseed, fell asleep, woke and ate a dinner, shower and went to bed. Get up a couple times in the night, decide still too sleepy and go back to bed. Finally awake at four something and start editing and posting pictures on the AAR.

Appleseeds must be a subversive activity, as soon as a photo is posted there are at least five views of the picture, and no comments ever left behind. It could be other RWVA volunteers checking out your activity and product, friends from other events around the country, all good people looking at good things and thinking well of your Appleseeders. I never know and really only care that the participants look at themselves in action, check for steady hold factors and trigger finger position. When they were shooting they were focused on that front sight, and Earl's theory is I never looked so good as when there wasn't a camera around to catch my fleeting handsome... Anyway, I know that there are more pictures of me in the world than I will ever be in control of, that the only way to find my best shot is to take it using all six steps. Flurry over the NSA, BAFTE, FBI or Google's spying on the data bits flowing the internet -- just another foolish hoarding of stuff no one will look at twice, and since much of it is computers seeking automatically what they have been told to find... a human may never be harmed in looking at another picture of less than perfect Earl.


Coffee is ready, and as I grab a fresh from the garden tomato from the bowl and my cup of coffee, I see my wife has already washed, dried and folded my Appleseed garb from yesterday - she did it Saturday night, too. How did such a procrastinator find such an energy bunny? Lucky, it wasn't smarts.

So seriously, I have a Caravan load of Appleseed and shooting gear, to unload and repack for the coming weekend. The lawn needs lots of attention, the YMCA expects my ardent participation, and there must be other stuff waiting in ambush to distract me from noticing that hunting season is slip, sliding away...

Yes, I know - for Earl hunting is not normal. But for Earl desiring to try something new, look around and see what I haven't done or thought about. I was fascinated by listening to a shooter, that made his Rifleman patch, talk about his work as an engineer on platforms, ships and large production bodies...making things work, again or better or as designed.

Well, the coffee is good but not working, so I should head back to bed for a bit. So tired.

How to get tired enough to go to sleep early and then wake...

Got to be exciting times, since a light workout at the YMCA didn't put me in nap mode when I had finished my lunch. I was wound up preparing for the Appleseed in Poulsbo, Washington. Going back after a great one in April. I have four support instructors, it is a great range and I get to be the Shoot Boss, which puts it all on my shoulders. Not like I haven't done them before but there is a competing Appleseed in Oregon the same weekend. Many of the instructor crew are going to that one or have other reasons not to commit to this one.


My shoot box was ordered, shipped and about three in the afternoon shows up from UPS. I have a new Shoot Boss hat, I have lots of unofficial green shoot boss hats, but now it is red with a black bill.

As I was playing with my blog this week, linking all the RWVA Appleseed events I have participated in or instructed at... I came to a realization that the blog and the postings show I had really disappeared for almost two years. 2011 - 2012. Did much complaining about being tired.


I am better now, must be since I have two days of commitment and five following to finish this one and prep for the following weekend in Port Townsend. A completely new range where Appleseed has never been before. Exciting times, yes, every new shooter every new Appleseed. Returning the heritage and the marksmanship skills to the American public.

In the mail was a small box today, with my new M1 Rifle Appleseed cap, a small Essential Liberty paperback, an RWVA oval for the back of the Caravan, a Betsy Ross and a Gadsden Yellow banner for posting on my Trusty Triumph. and my new FIVE year membership card in the RWVA.  With two free Appleseed passes for future clinics.Timely, now since this is a totally non profit organization, and there are so many dedicated to serving on the lines and behind the scenes, what seems to trouble the media so much about America... besides lack of leadership, commitment and no values. My wife is going to support tomorrow, her packing list concentrated on keeping us fed and watered. On Sunday I will be doing leftovers while she is at church. Wouldn't want to cross the great plains without her, or a fast food chain called Subway.

For the children, remember the kids...

Too often I see the words 'for the kids'  or 'because of the children' and I am supposed feel for them and be protective of their innocence. And I do love kids, but I want them to escape, to try, to dare, to run and scream or sit silently and watch and question, or read.

The Dutch farmer with goats noticed the kids and the children had shared characteristics and lovingly called them kids. One syllable and very easy to spell the Americans used it a lot and still do. Kids. Unfortunately, like Saint Nicholas, the word morph'd and times changed. The Dutch farmer (boer) would expect his kids to grow, and learn, and work and become adults and take over the farming when the old folks wore weary.

Now, it seems that kids aren't able to grow up, they certainly are protected from work (exploitation?) by government agencies and do-good'rs.  And since education is a growth industry, everyone should keep the kids, children or kinder forever... and ever... Amen.

It hasn't always been that way. People once believed that children are supposed to grow up, be responsible, and accountable. Abe Lincoln paid all his earning to his father until he was twenty-one, Kit Carson fled his apprenticeship and the reward was a whole penny if he was caught and returned. He was on his way to Santa Fe at sixteen and a life full of adventure as a short but capable young man. Maybe Peter Pan and the lost boys, and the ever sensible Wendy were over used by Disney and the idea of  'won't grow up' was musically etched in our minds.

Our culture seems to kill a lot of kids, unborn and still growing infants, children and youth. There is a thought that they freeze in time and place - but they are growing and that is by design, and this too will change should be every thought when looking at the young. Expanding one's control of this fast moving, faster growing and constantly a threat to our tranquility (they are our replacements! kill them before we are out numbered and over worked trying to stamp them out) is an impossible task.

Those that want to pretend that life isn't dynamic, that humans aren't ready to be hammered into round holes like square pegs are likely the same folks that think you can predict behavior based on your perception of the life form and ones vast experience base listening to fools, are fools. Life is precious, life is to be loved and never smothered, by control or pillows or plastic bags.

Our founding fathers, those fine folks that resisted the King and Parliament's tyranny, they didn't do it for the children, or their kids. They did it for their Posterity, which in modern America seems to be mixed up with Prosperity. 

It could very well be, that as the children of Lexington awoke to the battle on the Green, between their training band and the three light infantry companies, they still worried about their animals, their mothers, their friends and getting something to eat and getting on with the day - which was certainly going to be different.

Current culture must be too self centered, like I am the most important consideration, while long ago the family and its survival was central. Then the village, the community, the larger and larger units of shared values, experiences and common goals. But then, we hardly consider family, or posterity those are things that other philosophies want to destroy and deny... but their true value is not considered, is it?

Normal has returned, now about the Appleseed in Poulsbo, WA...

Sure enough, talking like people that care will help all the hidden fears and frustrations. But we knew that.

Still no shoot box with stuff for the Appleseed, no more instructors signing up to help, and twenty-two shooters preparing to attend. Lovely challenges, thank you, LORD.

I am not a fighter I am a lover... ever hear that?

I heard it too often in my teenage years, and I was just the opposite - a fighter, not a lover. I think I got pretty good at the fighting, and since bluff is half the battle I was really good at that.

I had all kinds of things holding me back from dating, daring to was tougher than throwing a punch by a bunch. I was so backwards that a friend finally asked my Prom date choice if she would go with me if I asked her. That was embarrassing. I didn't thump him, because she was a great date and I never have had too many friends.

My wife has stopped talking to me, seems I have shamed her at church or something. We aren't talking about it - so it will be resolved sometime long after I am gone. Realize that I am not feeling her frustration, rage, hurt or whatever is my fault (which is really making her silent), I do love being a clueless man.

This house is quiet when I am here alone. One of my  friends from the Spanaway United Methodist Church rode his bicycle to my house and knocked on the door. We had been playing telephone tag, the door works better. I gave him a bottle of water and we covered many of our bases and things. Cannot text things like that, only face to face talk works - and I don't think the NSA has any idea of our position on Syria. Good to see him.

There must be several degrees of silence, home alone, home with others not speaking, outside with everyone waiting for the cougar to pounce on prey.... several degrees of silence.

All that I valued and love has gone....

Seems that I am not well and will remain in my personal darkness, which I haven't found except in the lonely, that is when you realize that all you have done is off the beaten track, in the fog, in the thick forest of trees, in the deep sinking sand, quick sand or sink holes of life. There seems to be no one around to throw me a rope.


Survival skills, lay back and hope you float or you swallow that first choking slime into your stomach instead of your lungs. The fear of Limbo and the land of the Dead is there is no light, and no love.

There aren't enough volunteers, not for Paul Revere

I haven't much help with the Poulsbo Appleseed. Only a bit more for the Port Townsend a week later. They don't make them like Isaac Davis any more.

Did post my Appleseed Trail, from 2008 to 2011. I may have missed one but likely not.