Good start to August, named for a famous Roman emperor...

   Got up before four, weighed and took my blood pressure, consumed my medicines and supplements. Still not youthful nor handsome, sigh.

   Not prepared for breakfast I read the Bible and worked on ideas for Sunday school... none of which survive first contact with the children. (I did learn a lot in the military) We are going to replace Saul with an understudy, some shepherd boy.  Last week I fluttered around gathering Men's Codes, looking for where it is written about traits and principles of conduct and such, being a product of equality they would have to work for young females, too.  OR really lose half the class's interest. I found a ton, and it was interesting, but these are only fifth graders, short attention spans that would rather seen a video than read an essay, let alone a chapter in a book - or a book. When I was that age, I was reading books by the light of the street light outside my window - needed glasses a bit the following years, off and on. But they were real books.

   Anyway, I ended up saying that God wanted to give the people a King, what would be some great characteristics for a King? Most important first. You, gentle reader, may play along but use a President instead of a king. Don't ask the media, they seem to need something to feed upon, sacrificing nobles to make peace with God has not been favored for centuries. The children came up with about fifteen, and we were using the kings Saul and David, although we haven't started David yet, everyone knows.

   Adults may ask also what are the best characteristics of the people... not the followers, just the people.  I thought about asking how many of those desirable traits you have... but making someone really look at themselves, it is tough enough to do for me - you have no idea when I found I had wrinkles, December 1985, so I won't do more than mentioning it to children and then fly on to something else.

    Anyway, I was wandering looking at David this morning, three statues are outstanding, sculptors Michelangelo - Donatello - and Bermini  (which make me wonder why Bermini didn't get to be a TNMT, since his was the best David about to  cast his stone shot).  I like the video, since pot bellied old guys can play, too. The haunting music isn't bad either. New words for consideration: sling, shot, auxiliaries, scouts, slingers (pole slingers), and the physics of why the wind up... and how even Palestinian youth are still slinging rocks against IDF and police and in the Spanish Civil War ( no none of the Sunday school students would even know about the Spanish Civil War). Hondo

Well, doesn't that make me special... A +

  For years I have known I could get an A plus if I worked hard, studied and didn't go to sleep during class. And I haven't found my oldest medical evaluation with the draftboard and US Army, but my ID tags have said B POS for years, and years and years... But two recent blood tests for type have come back A POS. So I have be wrong for so long - just lucky I never needed a blood transfusion (I understand they check the patient before giving blood always now).

  So I have to go to a new diet since everything is based on internet knowledge now.

Plant based low fat diet:
  Fresh fruit
  Legumes - beans, lintels, peas and peanuts
  fresh greens
  whole grains but wheat is a bad thing, so I am stuck on oats, barley and rye.
  vegetable oils are fine
  soy products are, too
  pineapple
  tuna
  less domesticated meat
  (but dinosaur would be fine)
  NO HIGH CARB DAIRY, no chocolate,

Not only is life better in moderation, but information for my best behavior and health gleaned from the internet is only as valuable as the effort I made to find it. Expect me to be a new improved fat old man when you next find me.

oh, you aren't looking for me? it is well...

   On the home front, three days of contractors making my home better, my piles of money lighter, and my wife already planning the next improvements in everything wore me out, I could only walk two miles on Thursday, and my visit to the YMCA produced no sweat on this fellow.  I went and got a hair cut.  Remind me to relax and enjoy the little lady running her hands all over me (I never do, never have, she just isn't allowed that close to my comfort me zones). I stopped and bought a new ID tag, chrome and polished (four lines: name, old service number, A POS, and religious affiliation).

   I remain upset with National Geographic and their GENO2.0 done by Helix.  I paid my money and no matter how many times I call to get assistance to accessing my results they have a denial loop they put me on. I enjoy conspiracies but don't really believe humans are that smart, I guess going to snail mail and written correspondence before I have to get bad mannered and stupid about it - one more try on phone call and internet then, pray and be better than they deserve. I am so irrelevant, they must all be Hillary supporters.  Do they still exist? Kind of like looking for people that believe in the Republican Party - just figures of MSM and common DC delusion.

  So a very important man, recently promoted based on the Peter Principal is upset with how badly no one is listening to him, so he decides to 'leak' to the NEW YORKER, which no one in real America reads except to see if anyone took classes on print communication. He would not impress anyone outside of his family and friends - he looks and dresses based on the Good Fellows, swears badly for effect, is forgiven by an attention seeking press, because if I don't watch it they get not so many dollars. I don't watch soap operas because all the people I know are better than that, and now that the MSM, the White House, and elite first class folks aren't better than that - I just don't watch anymore.

  I go off to read, or play a game or research my Sunday school lesson, the children are better than that. Think I will mention about language again, most of them can speak in two languages, and likely know all the vulgar terms for body functions and dysfunctions, but they do need to know they shouldn't use it - they really are better than that.

So my son comes up for air and I get a call... and it sets me to thinking...

 Which my sister quips back 'so thinking is not normal?' Don't I really love my family that knows me so very well? Yes, I do and I thank God and my parents for those blessings.

Dad scraping paint on home. 1958?

  I had forgotten that he has been busy and absorbed by the mission and the men and this break was the first opportunity to address his personal life worries. And I went all Alfred E. Neuman on him, and told him I was fine, then realized that was what he had heard before my operation, so he had no idea what had happened, what the biopsy revealed, the after action reports from the surgeon, the new cancer doctor, nor how I was back to regular meals and regular diet. In some respects I think about how every time I went home on leave from some foreign adventure or operation, the local television sets hadn't missed me, the same soap operas and game shows droned on... just background noises, and I had been where people weren't like me, doing my best to understand and learn and take care of the men and the mission.

   I learned some things about his future, and saw a current picture of him posted by his wife, between all the garbage scrolling on Facebook... and then I settled back into my life fasting for my visit to my doctor today and thinking about where I am on my recovery at the YMCA, my only personal measuring device on how my recovery is coming. I am unhappy, but then realistic about my age... almost seventy and growth hormones don't swim in my blood stream anymore - with all my preventive medications I am happy that oxygen, carbon dioxide and energy do... and I will look back and think that it didn't take long to get back to my old self... but we all lie to ourselves about some part of our lives,,,, so we don't get frustrated. Or that is my excuse and I am sticking to it.

  Have a picnic for the English speaking church members this weekend, and Sunday school and Church services. While reading Charles Murray's Coming Apart , I realize that I don't like being called 'white' as much as I don't like being called 'English' -- and that Charles Murray has a lot of things he doesn't understand about religion and faith... but then I am reading it to find out what happened to my America in the period he is writing about... and it is interesting. Oh, for those that don't know the Koreans (which is what we think they want to be called - which isn't) call the Americans (which most of us are on the government service level) call us in Korean because of the language we normally use - being a Revolutionary War Veteran wanna-be I object to the label. Being an almost reasonable man I understood what they were saying in Korean and they are using their national term for English not the one for American which they are also.

Well, shower time and get on out the door, to the doctors and then the YMCA. Y'all be good, or even awesome beyond expectations... make our ancestors happy!

Disappointed aren't I...

  Monday started looking like normal and I went off to slay dragons and trolls or just do whatever I had imagined at the YMCA. But I didn't, the whole set of weights and reps done and I had only enough left for a minimum of bike and rowing... which was not where my mind had taken me before I showed up.  And I was content to just sit and ponder and that wasn't burning any calories, making me younger, nor much of anything upon the chair except in the way. Get cleaned up and go on home to hide. Made coordination with a contract estimator set up an inspection and then vegetated watching whatever.

   Tuesday I was determined to do what I hadn't on Monday, so I got 5Ks of rowing in, and then did nine and a half miles of the bicycle, and not one weight lifted nor moved, and I lost my bifocals on the bike... someone has them, check this morning... so I went off to get some shoes to wear so my feet don't hurt. Good idea, new size and two pair and they are just fine. Walking returns tomorrow, which is today. Along with the estimator. And wife's household allowance. Too soon it will be August.

Things keep changing...

  During my brother's visit he made sure I knew that the Ligonier High School had changed mascots, since he had some memory of my drawing an old bearded hillbilly with rifle, and a jug. Probably for some competition to decorate something at the school. I remember that drawing, but labeled the mascot as a Mountaineer (I always liked the image and the title).  But now and I don't know when they changed it the Ligonier Valley High School have a ram as their mascot, and are called the Rams, and the school colors are red and black. The school colors of Ligonier High School were Blue and White.  I graduated in 1966, and our letters for the teams and cheerleaders were LV, no longer L.

   The change was in the air, of going from Ligonier High School to Ligonier Valley High School, in line with the redistricting of the Schools and the supported areas. And when I received my diploma I found myself graduated from Ligonier Valley High School, not Ligonier High School. When I mentioned graduating from Ligonier Valley HS a comment came from an older graduate about I couldn't have in 1966, since the official change hadn't happened yet, for the district but the High School was already shifting into the new terminology. Both of us are correct, just working on the information available.

  So my youngest sister, a fine computer science and mathematics teacher in a Catholic school, tells me that I was wrong and the team was the Mounties not Mountaineers, which are the mascot of the West Virginia University in Morgantown where she went to school. The Yearbook was named the Mountaineer, and was often decorated with the bearded hillbilly, rifle and jug -- she pointedly tells me I am still wrong. Sigh, I am not wrong - so I go and look and the nickname of Mounties worked for cheers at events but the real name of Mountaineers was properly placed in prose when ever it was needed for honoring. So I check my yearbooks, 1962, 63,64 and 66.  I notice the hillbilly missing on the 1966 yearbook. I find printed text about the team season in one. Take pictures to prove my point -  I could be at the YMCA since my wife woke late I am not. Post pictures on Facebook where I have to show how right I am...

   I am finally surprised by the wealth of information from Wikipedia here:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ligonier_Valley_High_School

Of course, I am really smart enough to know I will always be wrong about many things with those that really know, but  I do love laughing at myself as I pretend to care what everyone else thinks, I just don't tweet.

Email from nephew: can we send some packages to you?

 The idea was a big ride with his father and some with wife, on motorcycles from Denver, to California to here in Washington and on to Canada, Calgary and back home. They would stop and switch between riding gear for the cooler air and mountains in Canada. In payment we could go to a restaurant and eat dinner. My answer was 'sure send them here and you pick your place to eat'. So I knew when the two FedEx boxes arrived not to open them, they made a great place to put my current reading and coffee for the couple of weeks as I recovered in the recliner.  He sent email for everyday they traveled and it made interesting reading and a fine log of the adventure.

  So on the third of July they arrived and were welcomed, and my wife made dinner with spaghetti and salad and desert of carrot cake and we talked and ate and changed out riding gear and got them a place to shower and sleep. They were talked out and road weary so the firecrackers and frightened dogs outside didn't keep them awake, and after a breakfast they rode off to catch the ferry to Canada at Port Angeles. After 3,000 miles of safe motorcycling on this trip, my brother lost to gravity on some gravel as he turned into a rest stop near Sequim and he went down hurting his pride, helmet and motorcycle. The medical response got him on a back board and to the hospital in Port Angeles, the tow truck got the motorcycle and personal items to locked storage at twenty dollars a day, the state police gave him a ticket for a hundred and fifty plus dollars for hitting some traffic control devices and bending a pole. The emergency room folks hooked him up, ran a bunch of tests and nursed his bruises and road rash and gave him pain medicine, light. He was fine to return to normal life, with his right arm immobilized by a sling. No broken bones but lots of soft tissue trauma.


  My nephew called and my wife and I went up and met them at the Emergency room, and packed my brother out to return to our home for reorganization and calls to all those they needed for help and action. My nephew rode back without lunch, since we stopped to feed before heading home. First hamburger since the operation, it was great!

  Got back home to find my nephew had stepped upon a floor board on the front porch and broke through to the crawl space beneath, dry rot is almost as bad as termites, we knew about the dry rot but after three surgeries this year alone it had been too long delayed, it will move to the front of the line now.  So we settled in for more smart phone conversations I didn't need to hear, and more fireworks outside to include rockets and more noodles, salad and desert and sleep.  The beginning of the new plan took shape, motorcycle movers contacted, airline ticket purchased - worries about everything discussed and choices made. In the morning nephew packed out and departed without breakfast hoping to beat the commuter traffic, here to Missoula, MT by bedtime.  We had breakfast with my brother and got him to the airport on time, can't check the bags in earlier than four hours before flight time, so we waited thirty minutes but that was fine.

  My nephew's log for his ride today catches up on his father reaching home and solidifying his plans for recovering his motorcycle and regaining his better health. So it is all good, and I had a fine visit with them these last two days, brightened my recovery a bunch and made me feel useful - just an illusion but nice to be needed.

They kicked Hal and me out of the library...

  I had Men's Bible Study last night at Watson's home. Then came back home and hoped it would be cool enough to sleep later, and after eleven it was getting cooler. My wife closed all the windows anyway - worried about things that go bump in the night.
   So Sunday arrives about five AM, and we get up and open the windows, weigh, measure and take pills and get ready to turn on CBS Sunday morning for my dose of culture. Sometimes they amaze me and I am happy. We eat breakfast and prepare for church. We drive off in separate vehicles and she beats me there. I park and go to the church, say hello and shake hands, continuing to amaze everyone that I don't look sick. The service is satisfying and I look forward to adult Sunday school after doughnuts, Erik checks with me and makes sure I will get the rifle, ammunition, reloading items and Biblical references and reloading book after Sunday school. We are about to be real Americans exchanging firearms without government approval. We don't believe in Bloomberg's infringements on the 2nd Amendment which predates buying laws to make one mighty. It is only a communist rifle of WWII fame, and not even semiauto. Still it is a Mosin.
    I have coffee after and talk with the men about guy things and such. I am happy, then it is time to go home and I stop at the local branch library on the way home to pick up four reserves. They have reorganized the shelving and all digital media is in a special enclosure to put a paid employee with watchful eye where they can try to catch fools stealing. My books are in the larger shelving area outside and I get them and wander over to check them out. And HAL! greets me from his check out station beside mine. I finish checking out and he continues to talk loudly in my direction until folks and staff start looking at us. One starts to approach and I remind Hal that this is a library and we will have to tone it down a bit.
   We must have spent another thirty minutes catching up and volume never returned to quiet and sure enough a very pleasant staff lady shows up to tell us that we are disturbing the patrons.  Hal has less regard than I for rules we never made, but we decide to go outside and continue the conversation. One of our friends from my old church died, and his memorial is Saturday at eleven, and my final day of Vacation Bible School is that day. I will see what I can do. One of my Sunday School students had said hello and asked about my health and I had talked with her a bit and finished teasing her about the amount of make up she was using. She doesn't know how pretty she is without it, and keeps trying to be sixteen while almost twelve. But she will figure it all out one day.
   As we finally parted promising to catch up with each other and talk, I did have to tell Hal he had really made my day, and I knew it was already great and meeting him was the really good stuff on top.