Kissyfacebook Revisited & Some New Ideas

    I've never before had the problem of people taking me too seriously.  Now, I think, that may be exactly the case.  There may be people in Cyberland who believe I am the Grinch in disguise; an anti-young-love, non-emotional Vulcan who likes to throw cold water on the flames of love.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  I find young love, endearing comments and adoring doe-eye looks refreshing.  I see these as signs that our younger generation is fighting off the increasing pressure to reduce relationships to convenient partnerships.
    I believe this misunderstanding comes partially from the failure to appreciate my brand of humor. I have a natural ability to spot chinks in other people's armor and a very hard-to-control desire to take shots at those chinks.  And, to be truthful, as long as I continue to get laughs I'll continue to take the shots.  I do believe my sense of propriety has improved with age, though.  I often choke down some pretty funny stuff before it gets a chance to exit my mouth because I  have sensed a vulnerability I know I should respect.  But I also know I sometimes misjudge situations.  Humor is a difficult skill, and written humor is even more difficult due to the lack of inflection, emphases, facial expression, volume and other subtleties of body language.
    The other contributing factor to a possible misunderstanding is the chance that people have overlooked the "future" aspect of the article.  I haven't yet encountered any communication that has made me blush, wish I hadn't read it or otherwise made me feel so uncomfortable that I stopped reading it.  I was letting my imagination make a trip into one possible future.
    I have other ideas about how this social networking phenomenon could evolve.  For instance, what if all comments had to be filtered through generational and parental filters, or even translators?  New, yet-to-be-invented DNA testing instruments would be required before any comments could be posted, and parents' and grandparents' comments would be evaluated by a special program and tweaked so as not to cause any embarrassment to the young person to whose wall the comment was being posted.  It would look something like this:  Young woman posts: "Great time at the beach yesterday!"  Father comments: "Hey, Snookles, I remember the first time we took you to the beach.  You ripped off your bathing suit and ran naked up and down the shoreline.  I've attached a photo."  What actually gets posted: "Glad for you" (no photo). 
    Another possible change would be aimed at keeping old folks, who I like to refer to as wobblies, from making comments about things about which they know absolutely nothing.  I don't know if the DNA testing would work for this or if something else would have to be invented to detect old genes, white hair and out-of-touch social awareness.  I envision this conversation: Young man posts: "Beach yestr w/BGF. alt 6y girls. 1 w/BOBFOC near us. deets l8r. psos."  Old guy comments: "Glad you had a good time at the beach with your big green floaties.  Good idea to have brought along those alternate girls.  I'm glad to hear Bob was there.  He needs a little sun.  Were there mosquitoes out?  You have to be careful not to use too much of that Deet 18 rated stuff.  Glad it was positive for you."  What actually gets posted: OFN0 (Old fart knows nothing).
    Maybe everyone over 60 could be kept completely off fb by providing an alternative like Kissyfacebook.  This one would be Wrinklefacebook.  As with kfb, a whole new line of products could be developed for marketing: huge keyboards like those old-guy TV remotes, slower internet connections so they don't get too confused and automatic photo enhancers that make them look 20 years younger in their profile pictures (so they don't have to use a photo that is 20 years old with telltale hair styles and ancient clothing).
    Remember, I came up with this idea first. I expect royalties when Facebook launches this.  I saw Social Network.

A Suggestion for the Future of FB

                Remember when Facebook was a sea of mundane trivia suggesting a population with such narrow world views that they believed everyone would be intensely interested in information like, "I'm eating a bowl of oatmeal" or "I think I'll brush my teeth"?  Slowly we began seeing those banalities replaced by thoughts and questions;  "I just noticed that my pinky toes are longer than the ones next to them." or "I'm wondering how to heat up some soup when my microwave is broken?"  Then we began getting invitations to take surveys and join groups and causes and to be friends with people we haven't seen (some for good reasons) for the past forty years.  And how could we leave out the advent of that plethora of Facebook games?  How many times do I have to turn down invitations to become a mobster or farmer? 

                I have noticed that my involvement level with Facebook has evolved alongside the site itself.  When I first signed up I was so unimpressed that I only logged in about once a month.  I now find myself checking in at least once or twice a week.   When I came to this realization I was frightened.  What had happened to me?  Had I slowly succumbed to some form of cyber brainwashing?  I took a hard, analytical look and discovered the content on Facebook had evolved to a level of some interest.  People are interacting with one another.  They are posting some deep thoughts.  True, some are only relatively deep, but they often provoke others to question and ponder.  There is something else happening: fun!  People are joking with one another without getting obscene or angry.

                 But there's also a direction to some conversations that has me a little concerned, so I have a suggestion for the future of Facebook.  I have noticed that some comments have evolved so far from the mundane oatmeal-like comments that perhaps an entirely new, or parallel, Facebook page would be helpful.  While I found those comments about teeth brushing and toe observance so incredibly boring as to evoke a feeling of hopelessness for the human race, some of the digital conversations I observe today leave me feeling a little like a peeping Tom.  I, and who knows how many others, are unsuspecting readers of some very personal conversations; conversations that I don't believe would be voiced in my physical presence.  Ah, the freedom of impersonal modes of communication!  But, oh, the unintended consequences of laying it all out there for everyone and anyone to see.

                So, here is my suggestion.  The Facebook powers (still Zuckerberg?) should launch a parallel site called Kissyfacebook.  Anyone who wants to digitally lavish Mister or Miss or Missus Wonderful with mush would click on the Kissyfacebook icon (I'm envisioning two face profiles in the shape of hearts with lips gently touching)  and let their keyboards drip with honey.  They should pour perfume and cologne all over those l, o, v and e keys and feel them heat up as they type.  They could purchase extra x and o keys to keep on hand for replacement duty when the others wear out.  An entire line of lovesick keyboard and monitor products could be marketed for the Kissyfacebook members; cleanser to get the lip gloss off the touch screen, mini fire extinguishers for overwrought keyboards, "hot" keys that will allow the use of endearing names and phrases with just the push of one or two keys, and how about a "smoke alarm" on the Kissyfacebook page that automatically rates the interaction to warn off those who might be embarrassed by entering in?   One little wisp of smoke = This is cute!  Two little wisp icons = Whoa, this is serious!  Three wisps = Someone's blushing.   Four wisps = Hands check!  Five wisps = Get a room!!

                Remember, you read it here first.  I expect royalties when this thing catches on.  I saw Social Network.

What Did You Do Today?

     "Hey.  How ya doin'?"

     "Doin' great.  You?"

    "Couldn't be better."

     "So, what'd you do today?"

     "Oh, nothin' much.  Raked the leaves.  Put up the tree.  Fixed a dining room chair.  What'd you do?"

     "I killed a couple of goats, field dressed them and took their carcasses to the butcher."

     Yup.  That was my day.  My son and daughter-in-law raised a couple of goats for the purpose of eating.  I volunteered to do the killing.  However, because I felt like I wasn't knowledgeable enough to do the gutting and skinning on my own, I solicited the help of a friend.  He has field dressed and butchered many deer, and had allowed me to participate in a couple of instances.  He had never dressed out a goat, but we figured it isn't much different than a small deer.

     Why, you may be asking me as you sit in front of your monitor where I cannot hear you, would you want to kill goats when you could have hired the butcher to take care of the whole process for you?  It was all about recognizing and stepping into our place in the food chain.  Michael Pollan, in his book The Omnivore's Dilemma, explains it this way in a section about taking up hunting, "For one of the things I was hoping to accomplish by rejoining, however briefly, this shortest and oldest of food chains was to take some more direct, conscious responsibility for the killing of the animals I eat.  Otherwise, I felt, I really shouldn't be eating them."  It was also about bestowing the dignity upon those animals that they deserved.  They were God's gift to the family and deserved better than the wholesale, dishonorable and degrading slaughter the vast numbers of domesticated animals receive in corporate slaughterhouses at the hands of uncaring death mechanics.  How dishonest are we when we deliberately force ourselves to believe that those cellophane-wrapped cuts of beef, pork and chicken were placed in those display cases by loving hands and refuse to even think about the fact that lives were taken, blood was spilt and guts were removed so we might enjoy sterile meals on white tablecloths?

      As I indicated earlier, I was apprehensive about remembering all the steps involved in field dressing this kind of animal.  It turned out that my friend was apprehensive about the first step; the killing of the animals.  He had hunted and killed deer, rabbits, coyotes and an assortment of other game many times, but he had never simply walked up to an animal on a rope and killed it.  It turned out we complemented each other.  I had no problem pulling the trigger on my new Ruger .22 Mark III pistol.  I had deliberately not become "friends" with those goats.  When I was over there, I saw them, but never called them by any names or petted them.  I knew the day would come when they would be the main course on a dinner table, so I purposefully looked at them as meals on hooves.  In my opinion, farm animals of this kind should never be named, played with or spoken to like they are extended family members.  They are part of the food chain and will someday have to take their assigned place in that chain.  It is not fair to expect someone else to do that final deed because I chose to befriend an animal.

     The actual killing was simple enough.  A rope around the neck to keep her head still.  The barrel up against the skull to ensure a clean shot.  A brief prayer of thanks.  Pull the trigger.  Each of us there individually valued that goat.  All effort was made to ensure a quick and painless death.  A brief feeling of sorrow was followed by gratitude for the gift of life given by way of that animal's death.  Then came the removal of all the parts that we didn't want to eat, including the hide.  I am still on the learning curve in this area.  When we were done we had accomplished what Michael Pollan described as his ultimate destination, "…to look as far into the food chains that support us as I could look, and recover the fundamental biological realities that the complexities of modern industrialized eating keep from our view."  At that moment we knew, by experience rather than meaningless head knowledge, that there is an order to nature and that we are a part of it.  We, as an integral part of that food chain we so glibly reference in discussions, are dependent upon plants and creatures to provide sustenance.  And we must take responsibility for the act of eating.

     So, what did you do today?

The End of a Road Trip

              When I was in my 20s I used to drive from Southern California to Denver in about 19 hours, stopping only for gas and fast food.  Now that I am officially in my 60s I don't do that sort of thing anymore.  I need to stop and stretch my legs, unkink my back and take short naps.  I usually opt for an overnight sleep as well.  But, I turned 60 a few weeks ago and I guess deep down I think I have something to prove.  So, I just arrived home yesterday morning after driving from Denver  in exactly 24 hours.  I could have come in sooner had a storm in the Rockies not forced me to take the longer, southern route.

                I was amazing!  I became obsessed with average miles-per-hour, forcing myself to stay behind the wheel for long stretches and combining all necessary interruptions (gas, food, restroom) into one quick stop.  It was as though a NASCAR competitor pulled into the pit.  Gas was pumped.  The restroom was utilized.  Food was purchased.  The driver was back on the track in record time.  MPH averages drop dramatically every time a minute is wasted in the pit, so everything had to be accomplished at a fevered pace.  At one point I was averaging just under 70 MPH.  That's not bad considering the speed limit was generally 75 MPH.   But then I had to admit a need for an extended rest of 20 minutes when I stepped out of my truck just west of Flagstaff and wasn't sure if those were legs or pant legs full of Jell-o underneath me.  Then, just a few miles south of Fresno I was suddenly and unexpectedly overcome with a strong desire to close my eyes.  This is a condition that gets my full attention.  I know better than to try such useless actions as opening the window and letting the 30 degree air hit me in the face, or expecting 12 ounces of coffee to somehow overcome 20 hours of sleep deprivation.   I regularly drink coffee within hours of going to bed and I don't have any trouble sleeping.  So, I pulled into a truck stop and slept for 45 minutes.  That did the trick and I was home and sleeping in my own bed just a couple of hours later.  In the end, I only managed to average about 60 MPH.  I've heard of people aiming to "shoot their age" in golf.  I guess I just "MPHed my age" driving.

                Those of you who read my earlier entry in which I expressed my angst  about the moment of reunification with my wife have surely been speed reading through this post to get to the part where I describe that sublime moment.  Well, I will have to admit that I was uncharacteristically excited during the interminable wait for her to get through the line at customs.  When she finally walked through the sliding glass door pulling her immense suitcase I quickly found myself right there with her, so she didn't have to do any slow-motion running across the lobby.  I would say our moment was neither exceedingly jubilant nor boringly complacent.  We did manage to obstruct others trying to pass through the doorway.  It was a good feeling to have the woman I have shared my life with for almost 39 years in my arms once again.  I believe I could describe it as subdued exultant contentment, and a moment that felt a little like that NASCAR pit stop routine; too hurried by the needs of the moment, but a winning moment just the same.

                I wish I could have gotten a picture of it, but it just wasn't a safe option: Holy Moses Wash.  This is a low area that conveys water during storms.  I spotted the sign in the dark while zipping along at 79 MPH  just west of Kingman, Arizona, which is west of Rattlesnake Wash.  It makes me wonder what incident inspired the name.

On The Road

     I greet you from the Arby’s in Raton.  I think that’s Spanish (or should I write “Hispanic”) for “rat,” but I’m not at all concerned as I bite into my supposed roast beef sandwich.  I needed a rest after driving about 500 miles up I-25 from El Paso this morning.  I have actually felt a little lonely today.  Yes, I’m still two days away from reuniting with the woman of my youth, but that’s not the source of this solitary funk.  There just doesn’t seem to be very many people out on the highway with me.  I understood the lack of companionship when I eased onto the highway at 4:30 this Sunday morning, but it’s 1:30 now and this freeway is practically deserted.  I began feeling a kinship with the other four vehicles that were traveling at about the same speed as I was, and got a little sad when one of them would disappear down an exit.  I kept my spirits up by observing the many billboard messages for Buffalo Thunder Casino and Resort.  There aren’t that many words on the signs, but if I am correctly interpreting the message being conveyed by the pictures, I can be certain there are several beautiful, sexy women waiting for me there.  They want to play golf with me, sing to me and help me beat the odds at the poker table.  Don’t ask me how they know it’s me driving north to be with them; some new technology, I suppose.  Anyway, it’s nice to know I’m loved while driving solo on a lonely interstate.

I have been keeping an eye on the well-defined line of clouds off to the west.  I had hoped to turn west once I reach Colorado Springs, but having just checked with weather.com and discovering that Buena Vista (pronounced buoo-na vista as officially declared by the city’s council members) is receiving snow and wind, I have decided to press on for another two to three hours and stay with relatives in Highlands Ranch tonight.  It may be possible to head out to B.V. (as the locals refer to it) tomorrow.

     I stopped for a rest in Socorro and came across what I thought was a misspelling of the famous seat of financial activity in New York City, Wall Street.  Then I looked to the right and realized that their spelling accurately reflected the financial center of Socorro.

     It’s back to northbound I-25.  I hope to make a few friends at 75 mph.  They are the best kind, by the way.  I’ll never feel obligated to help them move, pick them up at the airport or lend them money.  Besides, I always have my real friends at Buffalo Thunder.

American Flag Gets Teen in Trouble

Photo from Fox40.com

     When is displaying an American flag at an American school unacceptable?  NEVER!  Yet it took thousands of phone calls, some from military personnel in combat zones, to convince the superintendent of Denair Unified School District in California to decide to "allow" Cody Alicea to leave his small flag on the back of the bike he rides to school every day.
     There apparently was a problem, not involving Cody, on Cinco de Mayo that set the stage for this past week's decision.  Some students brought Mexican flags to school on that day, resulting is what the campus supervisor described as "a little issue."  Flash forward to November and observe Cody riding his bicycle to school with a small American flag waving off the back, as it has been this entire school year.  Some students complained about it, and the campus supervisor decided, for Cody's safety, it would be best if he removed it.  He did, but then went through channels to protest the decision.
     Why did the other students complain?  They apparently had been told they couldn't display the Mexican flag at school because that action would be likely to disrupt the educational process.  If they couldn't bring their flag to school, Cody shouldn't be allowed to bring his flag to school.  As they saw it, this was a question of fairness.  There is just one piece of information they failed to consider.  This is the United States of America, not Mexico!
     It should not have taken thousands of phone calls from around the world to bring about the action by the superintendent to rescind the decision.  It's a no-brainer.  The presence of the American flag is always appropriate on any campus in the United States.  It flies from the flagpoles in front of every school.  It is the object of a pledge recited by millions of students every morning.  In California every elementary school and secondary school is required to begin each day of instruction with a "patriotic exercise."  The recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance satisfies this requirement, as does the instruction in the various elements of the Pledge (CA Ed Code 52720).  If the campus supervisor was truly concerned about Cody's safety, she should have focused her attention on the prospective perpetrators.  Denying a person a Constitutional right because the exercise of that right may put that person at risk is a dangerous precedent to set.  Instead, every effort should be made to ensure the exercise of those rights.
     As I look at the picture of Cody on his bike, it is not difficult to imagine him being perceived by many other students to be anything but whatever the current term is for cool or hip.  To me, he's a courageous young man, and I applaud him.  Superintendent Parraz, on the other hand, should learn a lesson from Cody, man up and take a stand for the U. S. Constitution.

Freedom to Love

                One huge benefit of retirement is the freedom to change our daily schedules almost at will.  When we found out our next grandchild was to be born overseas, my wife was free to travel there and stay for over a month, helping with the various duties associated with such a dramatic family change. 

                I've been living the life of a bachelor for about three weeks.  The first week was euphoric.  I ate stew every evening, munched on chips whenever I felt like it, watched sports and war movies without interruption and went to bed after I woke up from my reclining position on the couch.  The second week was not quite as much fun, but I still enjoyed the freedom to take off and go hunting without advance planning, to spontaneously take in a movie, to listen to music instead of having the television on and to eat chili every evening.  I could have disassembled and reassembled my chain saw in the living room…had I been so inclined.  Now I am in my fourth week and find myself mostly thinking about when she is coming home.  I am reminded of a song from the early '70s with the words, "looking back and longing for the freedom of my chains…"  I have always been struck with the irony of that thought.  My present situation drives home the point that I am actually much freer when I am experiencing that fullness that only another person can provide. 

                This extended separation is different from the last one we experienced a few years ago because I am only about 30 minutes from my son and his family and because I have so much work to do on the house.  The busier I am, the less chance to think about being lonely.  However, I do think about it.  That is, I find myself thinking about the reunion.  I plan to pick her up at the airport.  Will we see each other from a distance, run toward each other in slow motion and embrace with the kiss of the century?  Not likely.  Maybe we will just hug for several minutes, basking in the warmth of each other's arms.  That is not really our style either.  It is quite possible there will be a quick kiss just before she hands me her luggage, sighs and comments about how tiring that flight was.  After almost 39 years we may be just a little too comfortable with each other.  But I can dream. 

                I suspect that it will be a little bit of a chore to adjust to being "chained" again.  Power tools will have to be worked on in the garage.  I may have to retreat to some place quiet to listen to my music.  In addition, I will not have total control of the remote.  On the bright side, however, perhaps all of these half-completed New York Times Sunday Crossword Puzzles that are lying here will finally be finished.  

               No matter, I thank God I have someone to love.

God's Blessings

     My Denver Broncos lost today.  No, they were whipped.  No, it was even worse than that.  They were humiliated.  But I really don't care because before the game was officially over I found out that I have another granddaughter.  No matter what else happens today, it's a good day.
     What is it about grandchildren that brings such happiness to a grandparent?  Proverbs 17:6 reads, "Children's children are a crown to the aged..." (NIV).   That's exactly the way I feel.  But why do I feel this way, and others I know don't?  The difference, I think, concerns the person's children, not the grandchildren.  I can love, play with, teach, and generally enjoy my grandchildren because my children love the Lord and are training up their children to love, honor and respect them and their parents.  How sad to see a grandparent who can't enjoy their grandchildren because they are estranged from their children.  The grandchildren may be undisciplined, disrespectful and poorly behaved, even toward their grandparents.  I've known grandchildren who have taken terrible advantage of their grandparents, manipulating them for their own financial gain.  I'm afraid the proverb doesn't apply in every situation.
     My grandchildren are all from Lake Wobegon.  They are all above average!  Their excellence has nothing to do with their looks or intellect, but everything to do with their upbringing.  How good of God to train up my children to be mature, responsible people of God who know how to love and nurture their offspring in spite of the many mistakes I made with them.  Not that I was a horrible, inept parent.  But I certainly have a list of things I would do over if I could.  But I don't need to.
     Someone once said, and I don't know who because several have had this quote attributed to them, "It matters a great deal down whose chimney you are dropped."  Children, whether dropped down your chimney or brought to you with soot on their faces to be part of your family, are gifts from God.  When their children become a blessing to their grandparents, you know that your part in training up their parents was not wasted nor ineffective.
     There are way too many pronouns in this article.  One must read slowly and carefully to fully understand.  But if you just want the bottom line, here it is: I have been blessed again today!  God is great!

Tired of the Tax Ripoff

     Because she is receiving a retirement income from the State Teachers Retirement System (STRS), my wife cannot receive the full amount of her share of Social Security benefits.  Why?  It seems that Social Security pensions are intended to take from the wealthier and give to the less wealthy.  It's called the Windfall Elimination Provision,  "The way Social Security benefit amounts are figured, lower-paid workers get a higher return than highly paid workers. For example, lower-paid workers could get a Social Security benefit that equals about 55 percent of their pre-retirement earnings. The average replacement rate for highly paid workers is about 25 percent" (http://www.ssa.gov/pubs/10045.html).  Somebody's definition of "windfall" is not the same as mine.  I thought a "windfall" was a bonus, a handout or an unexpected sum of money." 
     Here's my problem with this provision, H.R. 2145 (2009).  A person works for a minimum of ten years at a job that requires payment into the SSI system.  Then this person changes careers and works in a profession that requires payment into a state government pension plan.  When this person retires and applies for the state pension, the full amount is paid out according to a predetermined distribution plan.  But when this person applies for the funds paid into the SSI system, the amount is greatly reduced, not because the amount contributed has somehow changed, but because now there is a "windfall." 
     So now I'm beginning to wonder why there was such an outcry when President G. W. Bush suggested that people have the option of placing those SSI contributions into some kind of private retirement plan?  "Oh, that could ruin the county because the economy could suffer a recession or depression, then the government would have to bail out all of those people who lost their pensions!"  Really?  The government couldn't put restrictions on how aggressive those funds could be?  And since when is our government shy about bailing out anyone?!  If that $700 billion of bailout funds President Obama proposed had been distributed to every man, woman and child (citizens only) in the U.S., we each would have received about $2.5 billion.  Did I say, "Receive?"  What I meant was "Given back." 
     So, the lessons to be learned here are: If you work hard and improve your economic standing in life you will be required to pay the SSI benefits for those who did not work hard and improve their lots in life.  If you give up a more lucrative career in private practice in order to serve the public good by teaching, you will be punished for having contributed to a real pension fund.

    It has been awhile since my last post.  I recently discovered that even though I am not around hundreds of children and their germs every day, I am not immune to the viruses that are making the rounds in our area.  I am now wondering if I can market this remarkable way of losing ten pounds in one week.  Probably not.
    I have made the decision to spend some our our retirement nest egg to purchase needed equipment to start a business.  I was surprised at how difficult it was to click the "confirm order" buttons on the various websites where I ordered manikins, a laptop computer and an LCD projector to begin offering CPR and First Aid classes.  I am certain it is a good investment.  There are scores of people required to take one or both of these classes periodically, and I am a good instructor, well-liked by those I have taught in the past.  But while my head said, "Push the button.  It'll be fine!" my heart said, "That's a lot of money!"  That's why I didn't choose the business world in the first place; too much self-doubt and timidity.
    I still can't see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel regarding my house project.  I started out simply wanting to repaint the outside of the house.  It has needed it for years, and since I knew I was retiring in June, I thought this would be the perfect time to tackle a project I have no desire to do.  I hate the preparation work most of all.  But I figured I could save several thousand dollars by doing the job myself.  I have, however, discovered over the years that no project I plan is ever as simple as it first appears.  This project has proven that point.
    Before the painting preparation could begin I had to replace the living room window, a unit consisting of three double-hung wood-frame windows with a half-round over the middle one.  It has been leaking during moderately windy storms.  To order a new unit I had to remove some the siding from the top, bottom, and both sides for measurement purposes.  That's when I discovered the dry rot was more extensive than it first appeared.  I also discovered that the siding was nailed to the studs.  My contractor son strongly suggested I go ahead and remove all the siding from that wall, install 3/8" sheeting, then replace the siding after installing the new window unit.  While removing the siding I found out how easily redwood splits when being forced by a breaker bar.  I also discovered that, despite four years of washing windows when I was in my twenties, I really don't like being at the top of a 16' ladder while pulling on a breaker bar. 
    The new window unit has been installed.  The siding has been reinstalled up to about the 9' mark.  I now need to find someplace that has this exact redwood siding to finish the last six feet.  I had to throw out a good amount of the old siding due to dry rot and splitting.  I still haven't removed the top four pieces of siding.  I borrowed a scaffolding rig, but it is one inch wider than my deck.  So, once the temperature drops below 100 degrees I'll have to overcome my fear and climb up that ladder to finish the job.
    Oh, since I made the wall 3/8" thicker, the trim has to be changed. 
    I called a painter today.  He's coming by in awhile to give me a quote.  Being retired seems to be costing me more, not less.

The Pastor, the Imam, the Quran and America

     This story has gotten much more attention than it deserves, and it has more twists and switchbacks than the trail up Mt. Whitney (so I've been told).  Yesterday Imam Rauf told the chick filling in for Larry King that he can't stop the building of the so-called Ground Zero Mosque because it would inflame Muslim terrorists.  So, I guess America and Americans aren't not allowed to make any decisions or take any actions without getting permission from Muslim terrorists first. 
     Pastor Jones wants to burn some copies of the Quran to inflame Muslim terrorists.  He will likely end up inflaming previously moderate Muslims.  Today he proclaimed that he will not be burning any Qurans because he and Imam Rauf agreed that the mosque would not be built near Ground Zero.  Almost immediately spokespeople for the imam denied any such agreement, so the book burning may be back on.
     The Gainesville fire department says they will prevent the burning because a burn permit has been denied.
     Upset Muslims around the world have already burned American flags and called for the killing of American citizens, and a match has not even been struck yet. 
     Here's an observation:  Moderate Muslims have not been very vocal about their supposed opposition to the activities of radical Muslims like Al Qaeda and the Taliban.  Now we know why.  Imam Rauf, a leader of what he would like us to belief are mainstream, peace-loving Muslims, is afraid of the terrorists and therefore won't take any action that might inflame them.

     Another observation:  I used a form of inflame 5 times in this post.  That's about 2% of this article.

Re-Tired and Confused

     I have done something that has resulted in several of my followers' pictures disappearing.  I don't have so many followers that I can afford to offend any of them, so I'd love to know if anyone can tell me how to get those pictures back.  I believe they vanished while I was playing around with some commands like, "Block images from ..."
     I've heard many people tell me I would be busier retired than when I held a real job.  I didn't believe them...until this week.  I've been up at 5:30 A.M. doing manual labor resulting in my accumulating blisters, intensifying my need for chiropractic assistance and making it difficult to keep my eyes open until bedtime.  I volunteered to help my son install a floor.  Oh, did I mention I have a bum knee?  Suddenly I find myself looking for more time to complete some tasks before Sunday.  I thought it was tiring dealing with misbehaving kids and disgruntled parents, yet today I was longing for those days.
     So Pastor Jones wants us all to burn copies of the Quran this Saturday?  Nobody is denying his right to do so, but many have voiced their concern, opposition and indignation at the apparently unstoppable action.  I happen to agree that he should not go through with it, but maybe not for the same reasons as others I've listened to.  First, I don't believe any government official should be saying anything directly addressing the wisdom of Pastor Jones' action.  Hilary should make it clear to the world that the government does not condone this action, but she should have stopped short of calling the plan "outrageous and distrustful, disgraceful."  By making that judgment she has put the state in the position of officially "disfavoring" a particular religion.  While this is not the same as making a "law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof," it steps over the line intended by our founding fathers.  And those, like General Patraeus, who believe the pastor's actions will endanger the lives of American service personnel don't understand that Al Qaeda and the Taliban already are doing everything in their power to wipe all of us off the face of the earth because we aren't devote Muslims.  What more can this pastor's actions incite them to?
     Second, the people who will be most affected by this ill advised demonstration are those Muslims who have been fence riders or sideline sitters up to this point.  They will now be enraged and may attack American civilians, like missionaries, in emotional responses to an action intended to incite those emotions.  And emotions are all that will rule in Muslim communities around the world.  They will not stop to consider that groups like Al Qaeda, Hamas and the Taliban have desecrated the American flag, torn up and stomped on Bibles, cut the head off of Nick Berg and cheered at the news of 3,000 civilian deaths on September 11, 2001.  The burning of a few Qurans just doesn't seem to compare.
     Oh, Pastor Jones' group is called Dove Outreach Center.  The dove is a symbol of peace.  Outreach is an attempt to share the Good News with people and pray they will respond by believing that Jesus is the Savior.  I'm just not sure how declaring this Saturday International Burn a Quran Day fits in with the vision, aims and goals that title of their organization seems to declare.
     I believe I will just display the flag on the front deck.