Pretty things, for a not pretty day

Testing students today.
Results..... not good.

I don't know how to fix
"Don't care"

It takes life to do that, and these
kids have been shielded from life
for most of theirs.

Maybe it' s not too late for truck driving school........ For ME, not for them.


(The flowers? In front of the convenience
store where I bought coffee this morning.)

For Phlegmfatale

That brightness out there
is your future calling you
Life is change, so live!

And of what value the entire world,
if we are to ourself not true?

It's time....

I feel the need for a Randian recharge.

Atlas Shrugged.....

It's time to put thoughts in order, and it's always easier
after reading Ayn rand's masterpiece.

Observations on communication

Driving along, thinking thoughts this morning.....

The various vagaries of communication between people was wandering across the mostly defoliated fields of my mind.

As I'm usually thinking about one person, and usually the one person...this time it was about communication in personal ways. How wonderful it is that two people can say so much, in such depth, with so few words. Why is that, I questioned....

In working through technical communications, words usually lead to more words. Precise sentences assembled carefully, in order logically, with tangents explored in depth as needed. Were I to try and explain how to test a simple throttle position sensor, I would need to explore the type of signal it puts out, what it is measuring, why it measures it, and the various forms of test equipment. Digital volt-ohm meter to be used for this reading, a graphing multimeter for that measure, and a digital storage oscilloscope for a wave form.

Why such a long treatise for testing that might take less than five minutes to do? It's required to bridge the gap in understanding. Someone asking how to do that testing needs the background information to do it correctly. If they had it, if they understood already, they wouldn't be reading up on how to do it.

Now... compare that to my alter ego. We communicate with nothing more complicated than a few whispered words, a glance. Volumes pass across the gap between us. Whole lifetimes slide across tendrils of shared thoughts, with not a word spoken.

The difference.... is this: What's common doesn't need to be said. What we share in common need not be mentioned, except to accentuate the moment. When we can finish each others sentences, each others thoughts..... why waste breath with unnecessary words?

Communication..... different things in different situations. From long and sometimes frustrating bashing at insurmountable barriers, to life giving moments that last forever in silence.

Sometimes we must learn

what matters most to our life
by not having it

Sometimes we must live
with a dream of the future
to survive today

And the engines roll on.....

Strasburg railroad, and Railway museum.

These photos come from my visit today... I haven't been to
this place in years, but pass by it almost daily now. Inexcusable!



Reardon

For some reason I can't explain, this image started me thinking
of Hank Reardon, from Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand.
Power, strength, purpose.... Hard steel doing a hard job.

A lost evening


In the museum is a railway train station display.
They quite literally built a turn of the century
train station in the building, tracks, train, and all.
Inside the waiting room, inside the station, inside the museum.... stands
this chair and stove. All alone in one corner.
In the dim light, I can see the ghost of a man sitting
in that chair, all night long, waiting for his love who
never arrives.

I rebuilt the photo to fit my thoughts...


In perspective


This photo, I sat and waited for. About forty five minutes, just sitting
against a tree and watching the people. Along the way I took
almost one hundred photos, but this image is the one I
waited for. I knew it was coming.... all it took was patience.


Brass

On top of an engine, inside the museum building, are these brass
parts. A steam whistle, some steam outlets....
I can see a proud engineer crawling out on that engine
everyday to polish this brass, knowing few people besides
he would ever see them. But... he would.... he would.


All aboard!

Turned black and white, and turned old.... this photo
from this very morning could have been taken one
hundred years ago.

Home is where the nest is

There are engines on display out front of the museum,
and tucked away under one, visible to a careful eye, birds
have made a home. What once powered dreams.....

Preparing to leave......

Ready to go.... checking the brakes.... building pressure.....
Even without the engineers calls, the tension builds as the
creature stirs to life.

A light in the wilderness

On a lonely track through the wilderness, a man stands.
Watching from miles away as a train plows
through the night. Sparks from the stack and two glowing red
lights out front make the engine look like a fire breathing
dragon....


Arrived

Train of cars ready.... all that's needed is an engine. Fresh from the
rigging shed she rolls... proud and alive with powerful steam.
Decades after her sister engines have been scrapped, she still
pulls a loaded train every day. The men who care for her have
traded days of their life for her soul, keeping her breathing
despite the call of railway hell, the wrecking yard.

I watched a mechanic give this engine a loving caress as it
rolled off to work.... leaving no doubt.

A ready hand....

Ready to capture a loaded train of cars.... the engine reaches
out with it's coupler, not complete, not fulfilled, till the load is
hooked and under way. Like a proud man searching for work...

I bring you ....... breakfast

Food wars..... is this silly? If so... it's a good kind of silly
and I don't mind it. Not the scary nightmare kind of silly,
like an administrator with a tie, a clipboard, no budget, and an idea, but
the 'That looks like fun!' kind of silly.

This morning, I bring you breakfast.
An eclectic mix chosen by the basest of methods... it was
what I felt like making and eating.

My worthy opponent, the lovely and gracious Scully,
will no doubt write a poignant story involving past meals
in past lives, bringing tears to the readers eyes with each
perfectly constructed sentence. It will involve food, and
she'll build some succulent dish to accompany the story.
She can mix words the way a master chef blends spices,
and no poor offering of my own will
match that. So.... I use pictures!

Taken as a 'A picture is worth 1000 words', prepare for an extended essay
on breakfast. (images can be embigenned with a click)

We start with rice pudding


This rice pudding was made with aromatic Basmati brown rice
and raisins dried from flame grapes. Slow baked with evaporated
milk, sugar, nutmeg, cinnamon, and loving care. After two hours
in the oven it was cooled, then chilled overnight. Sometime during that
process several large bowls worth evaporated. We must have very nimble
rats or something... they even smoothed the surface back down in
the crock!

In the morning, a little more milk was blended in and the top dusted with
more cinnamon, then served chilled.


Bacon, because the world is better with bacon...


Then, cornbread. Two kinds. Both made
with jumbo fresh eggs and fresh milk, and baked
in smoking hot cast iron pans running with melted
butter flavored with a tablespoon of bacon grease.

One, the plain, turned out perfect with crispy
sweet edges. Moist, with just a bit of crunch to the
tooth. Served with a big pat of butter melting on top.



The second type had a can of 'Copes' evaporated corn
mixed in. While the corn bread is heavier, the Copes
brings a unique sweet corn taste thats impossible to match.
Of this type, there is little left.



Fresh jumbo eggs and fresh milk, blended with a
tiny dash of crystal hot sauce (Shhhhh!).



The cast iron fry pans need to be pre-heated in the
400 degree oven, then just before the corn bread batter is
dropped in... lube with far too much butter. It will soak into
the corn bread, making it moister and richer.
If it's available, a spoonful of bacon grease in the pan will
make the corn bread taste better, and the crust a little crisper.

This is NOT health food, unless it's our very souls we are
feeding, not just our stomachs.



Pulled from the oven when it's Golden Brown and
Delicious (technically called GBD in kitchen code).
Allowed to settled just a few minutes, then served hot enough
that butter on top doesn't stand a chance.




Cornbread...........

7am....

It's seven in the AM, coffee is in my mug, and corn bread is in the oven...
If you could smell what I smell!

Oh... Birds are gathering on the back deck, outside the kitchen...
The look hungry.... and mean..... uh oh.

Weekend food wars...

I did some shopping on the way home, for ammunition.

The general plan of attack, over the course of the weekend:
*Beef roast with creamy mushroom gravy, and baked Idaho's with garlic butter*
*Vidalia French onion soup with Swiss Gruyere*
*Fresh hot corn bread from an iron skillet*
*Brown rice and flame berry pudding*

All in no particular order.

The rice pudding concoction has been in the family since I made it up tomorrow. It involves aromatic Basmati brown rice and fancy jumbo red raisins (flame berries). It will be baking slow all night, and is really an experiment. We shall see how it turns out, but it's likely Lin will be doing the desert of this food war.

(update: I pulled the rice pudding from the oven, and decided it would be best to let it cool and refrigerate. While it was sitting there... locusts descended and half of it's gone already. Damn. I didn't think it was that good yet... not even half as creamy as it should be. Enough left I can finish it and post pictures tomorrow.... if it survives the night)

The French onion soup is a classic, and celebrates the first really good Vidalia onions of the season. Beef stock, chicken stock, apple juice... all to the traditional method. Toasted french bread on top with Gruyere cheese melted under the broiler.

Onion soup, and French onion soup in particular has a history dating back to early Roman recipes. The French onion soup we know today is credited to King Luis XV, who legend says found himself with little but onions, cheese and champagne while at his hunting lodge one day. Later, the onion soup became a staple of poor French miners. Their wives grew onions by the bag full, and were able to make the hearty soup. They ladled it into crocks, put bread on top, and melted a cap of cheese on as a lid.

I'm not sure who will be here this weekend, but anything left over becomes lunches for the week. Food does not go to waste..... :-)

In example..... dinner tonight was some leftover beef brisket slow cooked, with gravy, on whole grain tortillas.

There I was, looking up, and........

What could I write, in mere words, that would
match their simple grace?



From the talented mind of Scully comes the words
I haven't:

In swift air current
lonely eagle swims aloft
I come up for air

Food war suggestions?

I told my friends I'd make them a dinner this weekend.
As long as I'm doing so...... it will be FOOD WAR MATERIAL.

I'll probably cruise the market tomorrow evening to see what I can find
that looks really good. Till then.... I'm open to suggestions.

What would truly crank up the food war heat? Suggestions?

Chicken and forty cloves? A roast turkey? Baked onions filled with beef stew?
Chili enchiladas with fresh corn bread?

School speak

I was called to speak about an adult student we have. The director
of the adult program, and an assistant principle were dealing with some
e-mail that had come from said student. It seems he thinks we should find
him a job, and 'owe' him that somehow. Not only that, but it must be a good paying job, where he can 'grow', that he'll enjoy, and also one that will fit in with his desired working hours. (Two hours a day on alternate Tuesdays during weeks when it's raining for at least three days, with paid meal breaks at the beginning and end of each shift).

"I couldn't get that dickless wonder a job working a push broom in hell. He's utterly useless for anything but taking up space in noisy and annoying ways" is what I did not say. What I said was "The young mans skill set is still undeveloped, and the employers in our system have declined to take on the task of furthering his development, considering the level he is at and his individual learning pace, coupled with employability skill ratings and task time availability".

That is school speak for "He's a dickless wonder who couldn't push a broom in hell and get it right".

Mustn't ruffle the feathers now...... :-)

Oh, they towed a senator through our program again yesterday, along with a phalanx of flunkies and several hangers on, accompanied by a box of spare ties in case one fell off. Senator yippyskippy made nicey nice noises and had his picture taken with a few of my students and I. Oh Boy. That was so much fun. all done now? You must be leaving? So sorry to hear that. Goodbye. Are you still here?
I hear there's free bourbon down in the front office...... Bye now.

I gotta mention....

A few twelve hour work days and a full belly, and suddenly I'm feelin..........

SNORE..................................

Faces in the hallway

I wish I had Linda's writing talent some days...

This morning I had cause to just stand in the hall at school, and watch the students walk past. I've never really done that before. Wonder if it's all the changes my life has tumbled through the last few months that caused this change?

Today... I watched their faces. These were not my students, but girls from nursing programs and others.... fresh arrived by the bus load from various schools, various places, various lives.

This morning... I saw something that paused the coffee halfway to my mouth.
I saw.... their lives. The students, most of them, carried their lives on their faces.
Their faces in the hallway.

One girl... so eager to be different, just like everyone else. A hairstyle that might as well have carried the name of the street she lives on in the city. A face that told volumes about nights on the harsh sidewalks.

Another, eyes downcast, spirits downcast, radiated all the fear of a bloodied rabbit in the mouth of a slavering hound. Her face set in a mask that hid nothing but her own reflection in a mirror.

Walking past... eyes alive.... mind miles away..... this one is in love. Hope he's worth it.

A trio, each more giggly than the other, none with anything to giggle about but the appearance of giggly happiness in each others company. Next week it will be a different mix of three, but they don't know that today.

Determination.... a shock to see, to my jaded eyes. So often missing these days, but this one has it. She will do fine.... and I'd hate to be in her way.

Faces in the hall..... each with a life flashing across it like a motion picture played on a moving screen.

I never noticed it till today.

Today.......

Today....

I watched young eagles fly.

I observed and tested lawn equipment running on hydrogen generated with solar energy.

I encountered truly poor judgment in young people.

I ate relatively healthy (sticks, twigs, salad, fruit)..... until I found the last brownie.

I got angry.

I got over it.

I listened to Terry Pratchett on CD while driving.

I read something profound, and moving.

And....... I watched eagles soaring!

This has proven to be a good read....

Am I the last person to know about Frank James?.
Looks like another daily blog read.....

And now, for my next trick...... gone private

Yes my friends, I have decided this blog is going private
and staying that way.

I don't really write for the public anymore, just for the tribe, the family.
If you are reading this... you are one of a small handful signed on.

Please... if you have someone who should be here, or you wish them here,
then ask them to E-mail me at artwelling1@gmail.com.

Post five hundred

This is post number five hundred on this blog. Five hundred times I have found something to speak about. For this post… it should be something different.

So many possibilities, but the most fitting comes as a suggestion from my best friend. This post should be about how blogging has changed my life, or perhaps how my life has changed since I began blogging. Not exactly the same thing, but they work together well.

I first encountered blogdom when I ran into Tam’s Arms Room. I recall doing a Google search on an antique military rifle, and stumbling across her work. From there, a link to her other blog, View from the Porch. From there... to here… has been a real journey. Along the way I have made friends, and more. Along the way I learned so much about myself, reflected in the mirrors of other peoples eyes.

I was writing before blogging. Mostly articles and posts on Surplusrifleforum.com, but other forums as well. Before that (and still) for my career, and long before that, articles and a few newspaper columns. In almost every case I wrote for personal interest, but didn’t write personal topics. Mausers and motors were on the agenda, but not my life and certainly not me.

Blogging changed that. Blogging changed me. Blogging changed my life.

My first post, on July 15th of 2007...

Looking for enlightenment? Consciousness expansion?

Holy cow Batman, ain't YOU in the wrong place!

This blog site is more like the random bits of thoughts, ideas, and happenings
that fill the cracks in the world. All important, but not usually life changing.

Read, enjoy, rant, or maybe nod your head in bewilderment......

That seems like a life time ago. Or, more to the truth, like someone else's past life, almost a dream transplanted from another man.

Almost nine months ago to the day. How much more fitting can that be, since I now feel like a person reborn? Shedding straight jackets and removing blindfolds like Houdini, only to find I have escaped from a prison of my own making into a freedom also of my own design. The years lived behind bars forged by my own hand... maybe they were necessary. A shell within which to grow slowly, and safely. I can't say yet, it's all too new. For now I am looking at everything with eyes newly opened, and it's a lot to take in and fit into the framework of a new life.
Everything in my life is being reevaluated.

Writing a blog comes after reading others... and there amongst my newly adopted tribe I found those who could and would share their lives. They unknowingly led me to my own ability to open up and write about myself, and in so doing learn about myself. What I learned was stunning, at least to me. There was a whole different 'me' that I had never met. This person who now takes photographs in search of beauty, who writes poetry to explain feelings, who reads others words with a reaching mind. This person, who had all my memories but applied them with a freshly wakened mind, turned out to be me.

The hatching was not an easy one, and it's still going on. Oh, most of the old me is still around, still a part of me. I'm still a teacher, and loving it. I still shoot, still have my lifelong interests in firearms, reading, computers, technology, people, and all the other things that make me what I am. Now... there's just more. I still think Ayn Rand had a clue, and the Robert Heinlein should have designed our government. I still think liberalism is a corrupt religion and that Congress (fully manned) should be walled off and forgotten as a bad idea. I'm still me, but I'm not the same me by a long shot.

More important.... like stars shining in a dark evening sky.... are the people I now consider part of my life. Met and unmet, those bloggers of my tribe who I read daily make up my extended family. Should I list them, link to them? No... you know who you are... All the people whose lives now matter to me, who I care about. The old 'me' would never have given a damn.

Most important... blogging led me to the person who completed me.
Sometimes people are meant to share lives... and I now understand that too.

Reflecting back over five hundred posts.... what has blogging been to me?
Through it, I found reason to live, grow, and change. I found life. I found myself.

Live brightly, brightly
Eyes open to the future
hand in hand, my world

Haiku #499

My whole world exists
With all its life and meaning
Solely in her eyes

Cranky has a great idea... a blog dinner!

Step over to The Cranky Professor's place and check out her idea.
She is thinking about a blog get together in the central/eastern PA area
(I think thats where she means to pull this off).

Depending on dates, I will do my best to be there!

I may be in trouble.....

Yes friends, thats trouble with a capitol 'T' and that rhymes with 'C' and that stands for....... Cheese.

For you see, I have discovered a cheese shop no more than a few miles from here.
A real, honest, old world, cheese shop. With a fourth generation cheese monger owner, and a case full of unusual cheeses without price tags.



Almost hidden away, the entrance looks more like a cellar pathway to some den of iniquity, which is not so far from the truth. Down the steps and behind the ancient door is another world. It's run by a smiling and immensely knowledgeable man who tempts souls with small 'free' tastes of other lands. Once swindled into a free sample, it takes all a mans strength (or an empty wallet) to pull free.

The dark, musty taste of an old Stilton Blue cheese, the crisp sharpness of an English cheddar, maybe the overwhelming garlic of a black mountain..... Creamy, crumbly, passionately strong or gently soothing.... whatever your weakness it seems to be in his cases.

Lost! Lost I am! Must be strong!



I escaped with only a small bag of treasure. A Swiss Gruyere (he also had the French!), some Blue Stilton, a sharp cheddar from Wales, and of course a fair chunk of that awesome garlic flavored wonderfulness. Oh, and some Carr's crackers to nibble the cheese with.

Weekend food Porn! (warning.... post contents are excessively droolworthy)

Okay.... try this on for size. Blintzes, with sweet and creamy cheese filling, strawberries, and raspberry syrup.

For the pancakes, a very thin batter of Bisquick made with fresh eggs and condensed milk, vanilla, and powdered sugar. All whisked together gently so as not to raise the gluten and toughen the pancakes. This is the old Bisquick that's bad for you. Therefore it has flavor. Lots of it. Mix everything but the Bisquick well, then stir in the Bisquick quickly till its just blended.

Let the batter rest for a good twenty minutes to hydrate and raise while you make the filling. A thin crepe batter is what's required, not a thicker pancake viscosity. The thickness can be adjusted with a bit of water if needed.

The pancakes are cooked till nicely browned but still tender. They can't be crisped or they won't lovingly wrap the filling in just the right way.




The filling: Whole milk ricotta cheese, Philadelphia traditional cream cheese, powdered sugar, real vanilla (a tad too much is best), and fresh grated nutmeg, (again, a tad too much). Blend till smooth and creamy, then refrigerate while making the pancakes. This will help it stay firm when cooked in the Blintz. I like to blend chopped berries right into the filling, unless cooking for someone who can't eat berries.

Make the pancakes in a hot pan, watching closely. Flip when just browned, with care to keep them tender and moist. As they finish lay them aside to cool. I place three plates on the counter, and lay the freshly cooked pancake on the first plate. Once it cools a touch, it gets flipped to the second cold plate. Once cool on the second plate, it gets filled and folded, then set on the third plate to await it's sweet destiny. This is what I do while watching the pancakes cook. It's a fast assembly station that allows the cook to stay on top of the job. Having the pancakes cool lets them be handled, and not melt the sweet creamy cheese filling while the blintzes are laying there, ready for the last browning. Yes, they are cooked one more time.

Once all the pancakes are made, the dog having the last one (traditional), and all filled and rolled, the diners must be called to the table. It goes very fast from here.

Grease a fairly hot pan... butter tastes best but if used the heat must be lowered or it will burn. The blintzes are laid gently in the pan, only two at a time (a serving).
Once they sizzle and turn GBD on one side, flip and cook till the other side is the same. (GBD= Golden brown and delicious).

Plate the blintzes, top with strawberries and raspberry syrup, and serve. Move quickly to do the next serving before fights break out. Whipped cream optional for both the blintzes and the fighting.

(Images will enlarge when clicked upon, if true torture is desired.)

Now this looks like fun!. But... what is it?

Overheard today.....

At lunch, a discussion around the table.

One person was blabbering something about criminals getting
weapons and committing crimes, and how it should be handled.
The bulk of the solutions involving limiting gun ownership of
law abiding citizens.

Another person (who shall remain nameless) pointed this out, and
offered another solution. This being: Let's get Congress to pass a
law saying it was against the law to break all the laws already on the books.
That would force the criminals to stop buying guns illegally.

Person #1 began voicing strong support for such a measure... for a
few moments.... then got a far away look for another few moments....
then left the table.


Ooops.

Perfect, with a sign

Last night, on the way home from class, I nearly smooshed the truck.
Well, something would have been visibly altered in drastic ways, and the
truck would have been involved.

Cruising through a complicated highway configuration in tourist land, where
traffic is heavy and signals abound, I encountered 'Something stupid this way comes'.

A young girl in a little scooty car entered the road from the right (all six lanes of conflicting traffic) and crossed sideways in front of me. She then, against all sanity, pulled alongside another car at a light and stopped. Dead. In the lane of traffic. At a green light.

The other car was waiting to turn left on a red light. Our lanes had the green light... at highway speed.... with heavy traffic moving along..... including big trucks.

Once I figured out what special little piece of insanity thumperette had just pulled, I began drastically reducing speed while searching for an escape other than ramming the little rollerskate car she had just parked in the middle of the highway. The large truck to my right was beginning it's own skidding stop and swerving in front of it was not an option. To the left was a median, and three lanes of oncoming traffic. No joy.

My option was to stop in my lane, without gaining a new hood ornament in the process. I did so.... antilock brakes chirping and horn solidly on while
laying on the high beams... and mentally sending a wish for her future physical well being that involved demons from all seven levels of hell, and a get well card from Mordor.

As I came to stop, and watched the large truck completing it's own slide past on the right. I finally saw why this special little mentally handicapped driver had stopped in the highway, dead in front of traffic. She was laughing and holding a conversation with the girl in the car stopped to the left, and she continued to do so amid the screeching tires, blaring horns, and multitudinous cursing from all sides.

Amazing..... and I used to think Darwin might have been right.

Now.... the bestest and most fitting part of all this? The "Obama 08" sticker
plastered on the back of her itty bitty coffin sized car.

Yup.... That fits.

Silence, in a loud way.

Blegging my Haiku

Sparrow's Haiku contest has sucked me in again!
Run, Run! Click quickly!
Go vote!

Remember where you heard it from :-)

From my son, a school project of his own

The dreams in the night:

Here comes the fleeting night
In which dreams come aflight.
A sighing bed holding a snoring head
A child doing what his mother said.

Stars ahead with dreams below
Of galloping horses.
And dragons in a glide
Of flowers in a golden glade.

Knights in shining armor bravely pledging
Their lives on the line.
For the kingdom they protect
That kingdom inside every child.

Hi ho Hi ho...

And...

Hi Ho, Hi ho... it's off to sling BS I go.....

Writing a project for a college course, and disliking every wasted moment of it.
The instructor has the class build career curriculum, which she then steals and takes
back to her day job, saving her from doing any actual work for a living.
PSU is aware, but completely uncaring, for this instructor is a PSU alumni with a 'PHD'
in education after her name.............

Each life, like a crazy quilt wall built of brick and stone.
Some, solid and stolid with purpose and strength.
Others, a patchwork of experiences each bringing flavor and beauty.
This day a brick, or perhaps a lucky random stone, lending it's own
flare to the structure.

In the end, we are what we build, and what we allow to be layered into our own construction. We each have the power to include and exclude, tear down and build up our own individual wall.

Some of us, some lucky few of us.... have the fortune to blend
our handiwork with another's, melding strengths and loves
till the joining together brings something wondrous and lasting, without peer and beyond the ken of most.

Some very, very few of us.

None is so blind, as he who will not see......

I've been mulling this over all day.... since before coffee even.

Somebody made a comment on a friends blog. I read it.... and it lodged with more will
than it deserved. Not so much for it's short sighted officious twititude, but more for the
loss it displayed.

My friend can write. Write well.... well enough to fill a readers mind with the thoughts and emotions she so freely shares. Her work has that hallmark present in every writer I have ever enjoyed; The ability to snare the readers mind and emotions, shaping and molding them to her will and burrowing so deep that reading to the end is far easier than trying to escape the page.

That good.......

This morning, a comment on her blog from a reader picking nits, reminding me so forcefully of an art 'teacher' I once knew who regularly berated students for the basic flaw of having talent.
At the time I encountered this 'teacher', her actions engendered only anger in me. How dare that obnoxious old hag harangue truly gifted artists solely to crush them before their light had a chance to shine?

Now.... this commenter's words brought a rush of forgotten emotion in the same vein, but more, and newer thoughts as well.

Yes, the boob made some borderline mean and useless comments with no other purpose than to cause pain. This alone was reason to dislike... feel anger... desire a personal meeting to discuss the words. But.... something new creeping in..... and something I would never before have felt.

Pity.

This person, through his long, torturous comment, revealed something about himself that moved me to feel pity for him. Not enough to stop the anger at his petty bashing of the beautiful, but enough to surprise me.

This fool can't see beauty. He reads words so artfully crafted as to bring tears to a rough
and jaded man such as myself, and all he can see are letters in constructed rows.
To such a person, viewing a Monet would bring forth a judgment on the relative merits of walnut framing versus cherry, with a heaping of scorn on anyone who noticed the mere dabs of paint within the woodwork.

Oh, what a small and mean life that must be to lead.......... never hearing the music, never seeing the sunrise. Only knowing the harshest outermost edges of the packing and never the gorgeous perfection nestled within.

My friend? She will soon get over this small slight from such a low and meaningless person.
But him? He...... will never be able to get away from himself. Each morning, he will wake to the person he is. And also, wake to the person he isn't, and never will be.

So... so....... sad.

Just a glimpse of my weekend.....

I'm not really going to blog about this weekend.... Just to say I wouldn't trade a moment of it for a year added to my life.

Now, here is something I will blog about......

While driving along... minding my own business.... out of the blue... comes a sign for the Air Force museum at Wright Patterson AFB. Just a few exits up, but already drawing me like it had it's own gravity well. Most surprising... the highway didn't actually curve around and go straight to the museum, and other drivers somehow managed to make it past that exit without turning...... utter insanity perhaps?

I didn't suffer from such insanity.... and found my way to the site.

Oh MY! (insert the word 'Wow' here in fifty eight languages including Martian)

Friends and neighbors... I only spent an hour there. Just enough to stretch my legs and take a few hundred photos. There will come a time... probably before the summer is gone... when I go back and spend at least a day there. Maybe two. With luck.... I will have my best friend with me to point out all I miss.

This museum, if you are a fan of military aircraft.... is jaw dropping amazing.
Go... just...... go.

This weekend....

Weather service calls for heavy rain... possible thunder storms
Blogging shall be light, if any at all.
Smiling will be heavy, with intermittent grins.

Books... books... BOOKS!

I have reached the end of the pile. The books I have rescued so far have all been cleaned and cataloged. There's a bunch, but less than I thought. Just shy of three hundred. There are more that may come... maybe... but I have the heart of my little library safe and sound here.

I'd post a picture, but it would only be stacks and stacks of books... if you are really interested feel free to click on the 'My library' link in the widget to the left, and browse till you are contented.

Take notice...

I noticed something again today, on the way home. Not the first time, nor the twenty first time. More than that....

This time, I have a blog to comment on....... (insert evil laugh here.....)

Ok, nothing so special, but I just want to put this out there.....
As you drive around, living your life in todays silly season running up to the presidential elections, take note of something.

Watch the vehicle around you a bit closer than you normally would. Take special note of the ones with clear political stickers on them, especially those who declare for a candidate.

Watch how that person drives with respect to traffic laws and common sense.
Look for a pattern.

I won't bias the findings here, at least not in this post. Just try it..... and report back what you see.

Todays simple quiz.....

Today's simple quiz, just to see if they are listening. With my grading system, everyone in the class is in the 20% range right now and this quiz could help them... They have already been given a '0' on it, so no place to go but up!

1) The primary ignition is a __________ voltage system.
2) The secondary ignition is a ___________ voltage system.
3) The purpose of the primary ignition is to ________________ the _______________.
4) What component is part of both the primary and secondary systems.? _____________.
5) The length of the threaded potion of a spark plug is called the ____________________.
6) One type of spark plug seat is called a ________________ seat.
7) The other kind is called a ___________________ seat.
8) What kind of spark plug is NOT gapped by the technician? ______________________.
9) Spark plugs must always be ________________ when installing.
10) Most modern ignition coils can produce how much voltage? _________________.
11) Power for the ignition system comes from the ________________.
12) The ignition switch is part of the ______________ system.
13) An ignition coil can be electrically bench tested with an _________ meter.
14) The purpose of a spark plug is to provide a place for voltage to go to ____________.
15) Ignition wires must always be properly routed away from _______________ and ______________ components.

Just a simple, easy, wake up call......
"Yooo Hoooo! Wakey Wakey! Life is calling!"

(Update..... four failed, out of forty. Most got only one or two wrong.)

Sometimes

Sometimes you miss someone, and theres not a damn thing you can do about it.

I think I'll go unpack books and catalog them.....

Sigh....

Eight weeks

Yes friends and neighbors, eight weeks.....
Eight weeks of school left with students, give or take a few days.
We know it and they know it. We count down, and they count down.

About eight weeks... and then they walk across a stage. My partner and I stand
there in suit and tie, hand them a package of certificates, shake their hands, and an hour later they are gone. Most never to return within our sight.

Oh, some will come back to visit. Far more than in any 'regular' school. We have former students dropping in so often it's unremarkable now.. almost daily. Maybe not an occurrence that rings bells, but its part of why we do the job. The chance to see what becomes of our kids.

Of this years crew.... I suspect the number will be less. Just a gut instinct.

That's another bit of the magic.... later this year they give us a new class full of students to shape and mold, tweak and tune, lead ..... and prod. Each year a new group of faces spending their entire senior year with us to grow... or not.

Their perspective is too short to see what we see.... the change that happens from the day they walk in, till the day they walk the stage. For some it's impressive, and heart warming. For others, heart breaking in it's absence.

Eight weeks...... and I don't know whether to cheer or sigh.