I have a lot to go with this, but I am tired. I spent the day working with the tractor trying to level out the area for the new chicken coop. It was awesome. I did a much better job than I had ever done with leveling.



On the left is the ledge from what I sculpted out of the hillside. It is about three feet tall, so yes, I moved a lot of freakin' dirt. It looks grey because it was late, and the flash makes it look that way. The soil is actually very dark... Anyway, we are very close. I'll probably expound about this tomorrow!



John Deere in person...

I woke up at 2:00 am last Saturday realizing that I had lost the microbiological battle with the cold virus. I didn't go back to sleep as a result, and then I discovered one of those things that I think only happens because I am getting older. I decided to go to the bathroom to clean the drainage from my nose, and use the facility. That was when I stepped out of the bed, and felt the spear of pain from my foot. Apparently, I had twisted/sprained my ankle while asleep. Well, I am better now. I am young, and I recover. Screw you, you entities that enjoy inflicting random troubles on people...

That is my excuse for not writing in a while, but not the reason I am writing. At the end of last week, I told Annie that I did not like the fact that I find myself working longer hours into the evening, while she busies herself alone. She agreed, and I have made a concerted effort this week. She has been as happy as the proverbial clam as we worked on things around the house this week, and I am practically bursting with pride. We have cleaned out the area where we hope to put the new chicken coop, and she was absolutely stellar. She cut branches with the shears, she hauled huge branches on her own, and all with a smile. She was proud of the accomplishment. If I do nothing else, that is something I want to instill in her. Work hard. Be proud of what you have done.

Yesterday, we hauled the firewood platform up the hill from where it was originally built. She was not really that much help, but she tried, and she was proud. She realized that she could not do much, so she placed herself where she could help direct me. "Daddy, there is a branch over there... Watch out for that stump..." She was dismayed when we had to stop, and frustrated when we did not get as far as she wanted.

Today was the culmination of my pride. I had finished work (for a couple hours, anyway), and we went to borrow the neighbor's tractor. Annie steered it home, but I had her get off while I tried to move the dirt to level the area for the new chicken coop. Did she stand there and twiddle her thumbs? No. If I left an area for any length of time, she attacked it, and started throwing the clods down the hill side. I broke a stump, and she went at it whole-heartedly. She used her hands and feet to finish moving it out of the way. At one point, I told her that I was not very good at the leveling thing. She looked at the area I was working, and said, 'Daddy, just go to where the bumps are, and put the shovel down there.' Good advice. After doing that for a while, she said, 'Maybe now you should use the thing (the blade) on the back.' She was completely right. We made good progress, and she was very proud. In fact, she is a little upset that she will not be here when I finish the job.

She has no problem getting her hands dirty, and she has my face when we start. Stern. Determined. Calculating. Then we do it.

Thank you, God. Your plans may look like screwing me most of the time, but You provided me with the most marvelous daughter. I could not imagine anything better. I'm still ticked at You, but thank You for that one...

Cock-a-doodle-doo...

We have returned from our great adventure aboard the Sea Odyssey. It was a blast!!! I think the kids' (and my) favorite part was the net. The 'net' stretches across the two pontoons at the front of the boat, and that is where the kids all flopped as we went in and out of the harbor. They could look down and see the water and kelp beds as we went, and they thought it was incredible.



Once we cleared the harbor and picked up speed, they all went to the front. We saw sea otters, sea lions, harbor seals, a variety of birds, and talked about marine biology. It really was a great field trip. All the students got a turn at 'driving' the boat. Several of them were chosen to hoist the sail, but I think that turned out to be more work than they had anticipated, and the instructors ended up doing it by themselves, but the students didn't know it.

They learned about navigation, ecology, and the food chain. They took compass readings to triangulate their location, and looked at plankton samples under a microscope that they collected. I really enjoyed the microscope work, and want to buy a microscope for us that we can hook to the computer (Christmas).

My only possible faux pas was when I lost it when a boy decided that he didn't want to do what he was told and ran out in the sand for the second time. I used my fatherly baritone to bark instructions at him that left no doubt as to the need for compliance. As he sprinted back in to position, I turned to see his mother. Apparently, she was not angry with me, though because we talked many times after that. I don't like directing kids when their parent is there, but I was at my wit's end (not with him, just in general as we milled around in 'waiting' mode). I don't know, maybe some parents like having someone that can play the bad guy, so they don't have to. Annie's fourth grade teacher told me she liked me on the field trips because some kids simply respond better to commands from a male. It probably doesn't hurt that I am rather tall, and my 'command' voice is deep and punchy. I am not loud, and it is one of the few times I am not verbose...

Anyway, we all had a blast. Right when we arrived, the fog burned off, the sun warmed us, and there was just enough breeze to make the water agreeably choppy, and the sail full. I might get sick of the liberalism, but California has incredible adventures around every corner, hill, and tree.

Almost a Californian...

My only four-wheeled vehicle is pushing 100K miles. A month ago I took it in for the 95k service, and I told my service manager that I was concerned about the number of oil spots that I was seeing on my driveway. They could see the oil on the engine, and in fact had reported this practically every service that I had. Well, they didn't have time (nor did I) to dig into it during service, so I took it back when Annie was not here. They steam-cleaned the engine, and kept it for about four days. Unfortunately, they didn't drive it anywhere. So, they could never find the leak. I only paid $50 for that visit, but I was a bit steamed that I had to pay anything. I had even put a big sheet of cardboard under the truck to make sure it was really coming from the truck, and the cardboard ended up with big spots of oil on it.

To make matters worse, the truck has started to smell a lot. I can smell diesel when I start it... in the cab. So, this morning, I scheduled a maintenance, and dropped the truck off this morning. My service manager was busy, and after about ten minutes I was able to talk to him. He immediately told me that he could smell raw fuel, and we looked at the truck, and there was a spot of oil on the floor already. I assured him that I had not run the defroster or air-conditioner, so it had to be from the engine. He told me that was good, but I didn't feel quite the same way. Granted, I saw his point: it is blatantly obvious, so there is definitely something wrong, and they will fix it.

They took me to a car rental that was covered by my extended warranty, and the people were very nice. They were last time as well. This oil leak problem was handled once before, but I think it was a different problem. At any rate, last time I was put in a piece of crap, which required me to make an accordion out of my body so that I could fit in the seat. I expected the same. I saw this small PoS model sitting in the lot, and was sure that was what they were going to give me. As I walked out to the car with the rental agent, he suddenly crossed in front of me. Confused, I asked what they were giving me. He pointed to the F150 sitting next to the PoS. I was shocked. It is actually a nice truck. I stumbled getting out of it the first time because it is closer to the ground than I am used to, but it is not a crappy rental.

That said, I am always amazed at the insurance thing with rentals. I am fairly certain that my insurance does not cover rentals that are not required from insurance-covered demands. So, why does my warranty not cover that as well? I always decline, and then drive in fear that some dumb-ass is going to be texting while driving and run into me. Don't laugh. I see people driving and texting all the time. I saw it yesterday on a major freeway.

At any rate, I am quite pleased with this rental vehicle. It doesn't happen very often, and I wanted to say Yippee!

Happy, happy, joy, joy...

Let me make this as brief as possible... for me. Annie and her friend were on the trampoline and wanted to be sprayed with the hose. They had changed into Annie's play clothes, and after some preamble, I sprayed them down. Annie's friend is at least a foot shorter than her. Nevertheless, at twenty feet away, I suddenly realized that Annie's friend had begun growing boobs. I dismissed it out of a desire to ignore the possibility for Annie. Much to my frustration, they brought it up. Annie and her friend told me that her friend was growing boobs and had a bra. Annie informed me (inaccurately) that she was, too, and needed a bra. They. Are. Nine. She talked to her mother tonight and her mother told her that she would buy her some bras for here and there. I told Annie that we didn't need her mother to buy a bra for our home. Anyway, I am not in any way ready for this...

Update (next day): I am still not ready for this, but I don't think the other girl is really growing breasts. I suspect that because of her somewhat diminutive stature, she is looking for something to make her seem older. I think she was wearing a sports bra or something, and that is what looked like breasts when they were playing in the water on the trampoline. I think I can understand her frustration, though. We spent the day at the Boardwalk where there were still rides that she was not tall enough to enjoy. Heck, they barely let her ride the bumper cars. The most poignant example, though was when I was buying something in a store. As I was paying, the lady at the register asked the girls if they were returning to school tomorrow. The nodded (they were tired), and she asked in a voice that adults reserve for talking with little kids what grade she was in. I noticed it, and thought, 'why are you talking to her like that?' The girl responded that she was in fourth grade, and the lady hid a look of surprise before continuing pushing her foot deeper in her mouth. Turning to Annie she said, 'well then you must be in...' Annie knew where this was going, and said, 'no, I am in fourth grade, too.' Growing up sucks...
Please, God, give me strength... If you are freakin' there...

Interestingly, the word 'recess' in the title could accurately be taken in two different ways for this story. It could mean the far back reaches of my psyche. It could also mean the break from normal work or routine to do something generally considered fun. Of course, if it is the second definition the control function of my brain is a bit sadistic...

This popped into my brain this afternoon, and I could swear I wrote about it before. However, I could not find it when I searched the site. Since I am not opposed to repeating myself, here it goes...

I have written at times about my nightmares, which have thankfully been absent for a while, so I do not know why this rose to the surfaces of my psyche today. To preface the detailing of this recurring nightmare, I have to tell what really happened when I returned from Germany as a foreign exchange student. I had a brief meeting with the guidance counselor at my high school, who informed me that the second school in Germany that I attended had given them evidence of my time there, if not grades. She could work with that, but she needed something from the first school. I told her that there was no way that school was going to provide a single piece of corroborating evidence that I ever set foot in there. They hated me. The feeling was mutual. Up until that year, I had skipped school one year. By the way, I got caught, and was punished with detention... which I never finished.

My German was extremely weak at first, and the teachers were rather intolerant of my poor German. Frankly, I do not blame them for that. I would have been as well. However, it wasn't improving any sitting in class all day with no tools to figure out what they were saying. After a few weeks, I found Olivier; the French foreign exchange student that spoke German fairly well (six years in school), but spoke very poor English. I learned German mostly from him. It was just a matter of taking the time to point to things, say the words, and we started figuring out how to communicate. At the same time, my host mother said she thought it was ridiculous for me to go to school every day. She encouraged me to skip school, walk around town, go into a cafe' with a newspaper, and figure things out on my own. I did. I didn't agree with my first host parents very often, but I think that worked. Getting back to topic, I was absent from school about once each week, but that didn't seem to be the school's biggest concern. They did not find me particularly involved in the classroom, and were disgusted that I never showed for P.E. This has always made me shake my head because I wasn't signed up for P.E. there. That was clear on the first day that I went to the school to sign up for classes. Nevertheless, the sum of all these difficulties resulted in them saying they felt like they had never had a foreign exchange student (I was supposedly their first). I suck... move on.

Back to the Guidance Counselor: at first she said she had to have something. I informed her that that was fine. I had already been accepted to Missouri's premier technology school, I had stellar ACT scores, tons of scholarships, and I was sure that I could ace the GED that day if necessary. Strangely, in the face of my obvious lack of concern, she said it wasn't really a problem. I had had sufficient credits to graduate by the end of my junior year, and she could write something regarding my residency in a school that would be acceptable. I went on to college. I excelled through my undergraduate degree, decided to keep going, and after nine and a half years finished a rather respectable academic career culminating in what I believe was a well-deserved bestowmant of a Ph.D. degree.

Unfortunately, deep in my brain, I must still harbor some concern that none of it mattered if my high school decides to cancel my diploma. It sounds ludicrous, but that is the only basis I can find for this recurring nightmare I have. It comes out once, sometimes twice a year, and seems to linger over a few nights. The dream is slightly different each time, but only in location and requirements, but they always have the same theme. I am back in high school (sometimes junior high). It is bad enough to have to relive that time of my life, but in these nightmares, I am my current age. Sometimes it will be near the end of the year, and I know I am supposed to have attended English or History, but I can not remember attending a single class or taking a single test. The worst ones are when I find myself in a math or science class, and lose my temper. I will (almost) politely inform the teacher that I have had more classes in this subject and know more than the instructor. I further point out that my time in that class is a waste of my time. Being so much older and towering over the other kids made it even more humiliating when I went to my locker between classes.

I wake from these dreams in a horrible sweat, frustrated, angry, and deeply concerned that my degrees have been discounted because of a single meeting back in 1988 that a contemporary decided was unacceptable. After a few moments of waking up, becoming aware of my surroundings, and accepting the absurdity of the situation, I usually chuckle to myself. There were times throughout my education where my self confidence in what I knew resulted in some of these situations actually happening. I always got math and science. I am sure that some people/instructors considered it arrogant, and they may have been right. I disagree. I knew what I knew, and I also knew when we were moving into something I didn't get, and I wanted to absorb it. It didn't take much, but if an instructor was incompetent or not informed enough, I was not afraid to push the boundaries, and at times told him/her that they were wrong. Good teachers (in my opinion that means someone that recognizes that different approaches to relaying information are necessary for different people, and that maybe the students are even more versed than they in some segments of the material) were very accepting, poor teachers would either cower or attempt to ridicule me in order to achieve dominance. Mr. Greer in fifth grade tried to humiliate me like that. I felt bad for about an hour, and then decided he was just an ass. I think I got my A in the class, but he had some comments about my behavior. That was fine. I forced a professor into a corner in college from my seat in the back of the class with my glare and the controlled timbre of my voice. Strangely, I don't think he ever hated me, he just didn't like me in his class. He practically admitted publicly that he didn't like me in his class.

Then there was the coach that was teaching science in junior high. He started talking in class about things that would be best classified as astrophysics. He made a couple of mistakes. I don't remember them both precisely, but I remember one was the classic description of other star/planetary systems as solar systems. I hate that. It is a pet peeve of mine. It happens all the time, and I suspect that it has practically become acceptable, but I refuse to accept it. There is only one Solar System: ours because our sun's name is Sol. The others are called stellar systems. I think the second one had something to do with incorrectly identifying the differences in galaxies and universes.

At any rate, I couldn't stand it. I raised my hand, he called on me, and I explained the whole order and nomenclature of the cosmos. He didn't get mad. He didn't ridicule me. In fact, I think he thanked me. He then went on to ask how I knew all of this. I told him the truth, and frankly did not realize at the time how relevant it was to my growth, development and future. I told him that I read it somewhere, and I just remembered it. He may not have known everything about his subject, but I to this day feel like he was a good instructor.

Yes, I am aware that my daughter is just like me in a lot of these characteristics, and I have already begun steeling myself for the parent-teacher conferences where it will come out. Give me your best shot...

Will sleep well, I am sure...

Monday was a holiday, so that is when Annie came home. We had a lot of things to do when she came home, not the least of which was making her invitations to her birthday party here. It takes place this Saturday, and I designed the invitations to give details about the gathering. The first time I designed them, they were perfect, but the picture of her that was included was apparently a bit much for the printer. After about an hour and a half of waiting, I decided that it was not going to happen. The computer locked up of course when I tried to abort the job, and I started over. I reduced the density of the picture, but in my haste forgot to include the date and time of the slumber party. I did not notice it of course, until after she had distributed them to five girls, and a friend politely pointed it out. However, I had included my phone number and e-mail address with a request for confirmation.

Well, my expectation that parents might call me for confirmation and date/time information wasn't happening, so I created new invitations. These went out the next day with one exception (the girl was sick that day). Still no calls. Today, Thursday, either Annie or I have talked to most of the parents and received notice that three of them are not coming. I found out this morning that one is coming, and the other one I think will be a no-show, but Annie is holding out.

She and I talked about it, and I said we will do something special. She had a brief moment of disappointment on her face, but then her eyes lit up and she agreed that it will be fine.

God, I love that little girl...

Wondering how the phones and e-mail of people suddenly died this week...

... would make us forget a lot of good times...

Recently, I did the FaceBook thing. I have a lot of requests for 'friends' from folks with whom I did not have a lot of communication in high school. In fact, only one was truly a friend. I don't know, but I figure people just like to have the attachments considered friends. Some of these folks were down right mean to me, but I know that my memory is far more freakishly in tune than most. Then again, maybe my definition of friend is a bit off kilter from others. At any rate, it made me think of some people that were very important to me during some difficult times. I was in Germany with one of them. I tried a number of years ago to start contact with him, and got no response. I don't give up well, and I happened to find him again. We'll see if he responds. Perhaps the friendship was more one-sided than I knew...

Well, in the process, I looked at some pictures from Germany. I wouldn't change anything, because I learned so much, but there were a lot of embarrassing pictures. For starters would be when I convinced my host parents to let me dye my hair black...



Of course, there was the amount of alcohol consumed. My best friend was a french kid that ultimately taught me German because he didn't speak English. He taught me German. I taught him...




... how to play quarters. Yes, he is wearing my UMR sweatshirt that was provided to me by my sister, which essentially celebrates St. Patrick's Day, which was a major drink-fest when I was at UMR.

My favorite family in Bavaria sent me tickets to travel back to Augsburg over Easter Break. The further gave me a train ticket, and maybe even paid for my friends Jim and Oliver (you can figure out which one was French). That wonderful woman had grandiose plans for us to visit museums, cathedrals, and all sorts of historical landmarks. We had been in Germany for nine months, and would have vomited over another Gothic or Baroque display. So? We went to a beer hall and talked most of the day. I had long since decided I didn't want black hair, and was unable to turn it back to sandy blonde, as shown in this picture taken by Olivier.



In case you are confused, Jim is the one who really is a redhead. Those were not our first mugs, and I think it was shortly after that we stood up and discovered we couldn't walk very well. That was ok, we walked over to another table to settle a bet that the people there were from Northern Germany. I won. They were. I might not have had a great accent, even though after I moved north I was known as the American with a Bavarian accent, but I could tell who was from where.

At any rate, it brought back some wonderful memories. They were not all perfect. This was not a vacation; it was a self exploration. I learned a lot about me. I learned a lot about myself. One of my co-workers, who is an immigrant, has commented that I was not very worldly in my views. I just laugh and let that kind of thing go. Strangely enough, I have seen and experienced a lot. I have incorporated all of those things into my perspective of the world. I have literally stood at the demarcation between Capitalism and Socialism. I purposely do not contrast Democracy to these other political philosophies because East Germany called themselves the German Democratic Republic, and I understand why. As it turns out, the concept of a Democratic environment is a bit vague; as is the concept of a Republic. It was only over the span of a week, and it was not as if I lived it constantly even in that short span of time. I didn't need it. The environment and the people that lived it let me know.

When the government starts redistributing income there are repercussions that follow. First it is that those who have health care programs must pay for those who don't. It seems innocuous. It seems like the right thing to do. Fine, I can pay a little more in taxes. Next comes further support for those that either do not want to work or can not. Sure, I can buck up a little for them. Never mind that while I was focused on my future they were doing 'other things.' They might have taken risks that didn't succeed. Wait a minute. I took a risk, too. I never expected anyone to buck up for me. Understood. I am just being a selfish autocrat. Oops. I don't mean to be, so I'll pay for that, too. I might have certain religious beliefs. Maybe my daughter has been taught to pray during the day. Well, public schools can not allow that. Hmmm... well, I guess I can see how that would be interpreted from the Constitution. Granted, I never said *everyone* should have to pray. Wait a minute, the schools are required to provide a vegetarian meal at lunch for those that believe that this is a philosophical belief. Oh, well that is not religious. Strangely, I make my daughter's lunch every single day. I guess that is not an acceptable alternative. If my daughter only ate a slab of raw beef for lunch every day, I am sure the government would ensure that that option was available. Ok, I am fine. One of my best friends does not speak English as a first language. In fact, it is not even his second language. However, he has learned it. We can carry on a conversation about anything, and he has no problem asking what something means if I use some slang or accent (I have an accent?) that he doesn't get. I remember his son yelling years ago in the house, 'WE ARE IN AMERICA, WE HAVE TO SPEAK ENGLISH!" Today, that boy has no accent what-so-ever. But, there are people that have not learned English that are here documented and undocumented. I guess I am supposed to learn more languages in order to make their lives easier. My German could be reborn very quickly, but strangely Germans want to learn English, and adapt quickly as a result of their desire. Annie and I are trying to learn Chinese. Not because it is required, but because we thought it would be interesting. Nevertheless, we will spend more money at school to ensure we have translators at our disposal to talk to students and parents that do not speak English.

Apparently, there are people that are not being paid well for their jobs. Damn that. That has to suck. Well, we had better establish a system that regulates income. Then it had better regulate time spent. Then it had better regulate benefits. I am not allowed to think that I should be paid more than others. I have been told as much. They are entitled. I am sure they struggled as much as I did. I am sure that they did everything they could to be better than they were the day before. I am sure they took finals with a 106 degree temperature. I am sure they demonstrated a skill that few people in the world could do. I am sure they get calls every month asking if they would be willing to relocate to do that particular job somewhere else...

Sorry for my sarcasm. I see where this is going. I walked through it. The Berlin Wall was not put up by the West, it was designed, implemented, and manned by the Socialists/Communists. It is sad that the only thing left is a single piece of wall in memory. That was not the Wall. The Wall consisted of two concrete barriers with somewhere around 50 yards of space between them. The outer perimeter did not end in the West. There was a space left for the East to drive the perimeter. Manned turrets were spaced amidst the gap. The East side even had mounds that had been built up against the wall. They didn't tear these down. They were waiting for people to try. They would be gunned down trying to cross the gap, or picked up if they had brought tools to scale the opposing barrier. It wasn't to keep the West out. Why would you build something like that if you thought your philosophy was better?

I have so much more, but I am getting frustrated with how many things keep coming to mind. I frankly don't think I am alone in my beliefs. In fact, I think the majority of citizens would agree with me. Unfortunately, we are all too busy working, so the smaller groups of activists get their way...

Mffffff.....

Annie and I got up on time this morning. We did our morning chores, got ready for the day, and went off to school. I walked her to class. We talked and goofed off until her friends started to arrive, and then I ventured back to the truck. I said good morning to the stunningly gorgeous mother who is always smiling, and unfortunately married. I stopped by the hardware store where I talked to a few people on my quest to buy some yellow-jacket traps. I went on home, and got out of the truck. As I was crossing the driveway, I discovered my fly had been open all morning...

Life is mercifully finite...

A long, long... long... long time ago, my father taught me that it was faster to just do a job by hand then it was to wander around looking for ways to make it easier (assuming the job could be done by hand). It took me a while to figure that out, and I still struggle with it. I enjoy thinking about ways to improve the efficiency or utility of a job. That is why I am an engineer, and I have even taught my dad a couple of things over the years.

This morning, though, I saw one of those strange things where people waste time because they really want to do something the easy way. After I dropped Annie off at school, I returned to the home office. The trip took slightly longer than it should, however. I got behind the garbage truck. The same garbage truck that does not actually go all the way down the road, which is why I have to haul my own garbage and recycling. Just for the humor factor, I would like to have followed him a little longer than I did. Our road is a fairly typical mountain road. The pavement might be in better shape than many, but it typically is only wide enough for one vehicle, and the once off the road the ground turns rough, and is far from flat.

The garbage truck pulled up to get the trash bin at a house that is located on a fairly steep part of the trek up the mountain. The bin was located on the side of the road, and looked like it might have been sitting on a decent sized rock. A pair of metal arms came out from the side of the truck, and tried to squeeze the bin so that it could be raised to its destination high above the truck. The bin impolitely twisted so the arms could not grab it. The arms came back in the truck, and then slowly came out again. I think the truck was trying to use the old joke of tapping someone on the opposite shoulder to see if they will look the wrong way. It worked. As the arms came out, the bin turned to the side, and the arms came together to attempt to grab the elusive trash bin. Again, no luck. The arms went back in the truck, and came out for another attempt. I was laughing my butt off. From the moment I saw the arms come out the first time, and I looked at the bin and the terrain on the side of the road, I thought it would have been a lot faster, if not easier, to just go out and set the bin in the arms, since it did not appear this truck was designed to allow for a manual dumping, which would have been the fastest solution. Fortunately, this third attempt resulted in the arms knocking the trash bin to the ground. A man jumped out of the passenger's side of the truck, grabbed the bin, stood it up on the road in front of the arms, jumped in the truck, and the arms hoisted the bin into position.

All this time, there was a guy sitting in the truck manipulating the controls. I figured it was a one-person operation. In that case, I might understand not really wanting to put the truck in park on this steep hill, checking the orientation of the wheels, setting the parking break, getting out and running around to the opposite side of the truck... No, this guy was in the passenger's side of the truck. He spent four times as long as necessary getting this stupid trash bin, and I be he does the same thing next week...

Trash-canned...