It is hard to navigate in a fog

I was pretty sick for a couple of days this past week.  I don’t like to be sick and I’m fortunate it doesn’t happen very often.  I came home after a long day on Thursday and in the middle of the night I woke up realizing someone had shoved a brick into my stomack while I slept.

I spent the rest of the night sitting either in a chair or else where but sitting none the less.  It was after breakfast the next morning I realized this wasn’t going away after a few hours.  My head hurt like they must have shoved the brick through my nose.  Either that or there was a second brick that was slowly expanding in my head.  Maybe that’s it.

The Brick Dissolved

That brick slowly dissolved and entered my blood stream causing massive shutdown of my muscles and joints.  Drugs were used to control the pain life on the couch was about all the movement I could get out of the rest of my body.

A little white pill donated (I had no idea what was in it) put me to sleep on the couch for the second night.  (We don’ t have a couch as such.  It is a series of recliners joined together with a couple of cup and remote holders between a few of them.) Which makes sleeping on this concoction of chairs and humps difficult.

But at 4 am I awoke and all the bricks and particles were gone from my system.  A little tired from the experience and glad it was over in 36 hours and not 4 days as I had feared.

Something happened though I hadn’t counted on.  The whole 36 hour experience served as some kind of internal reboot.  Like I have to do with my Blackberry.  It gets to acting strange and suddenly locks up.  I pull the battery while it is turned on and after about 5 minutes it resets everything and functions great after a reboot.

One of the things I enjoy doing and might even go so far as to say am passionate about is writing.  But lately, there has been a glitch in the software.  I was out of words or thoughts weren’t coming together in any way.  I wanted to write, I needed to write, but nothing was being written.

A Glitch in My Software

There was a glitch somewhere.  It appears I’ve undergone a power on reboot.  The end result some thing has been reset and I’m writing again.

Maybe there is a good reason why we get sick.  I always thought sickness was a bane.  And we do everything we can to take drugs and keep on pushing and pushing harder to keep going.  Like me trying to get one more tweet and one more email responded to with the berry when I know the smart thing to do is just pull the battery and let it reboot.  But I don’t want to take the time. I have too much to do, till I have no choice and it stops working all together.

I know that it wasn’t a pleasant experience being sick, but I will never look at the experience the same way again.  I’ll take it as my signal that a reboot is in process and will shut down to let it happen as quickly as possible and maybe, just maybe I’ll find there was a software upgrade that took place during the reboot or at least I’ll be functioning again.

It really feels good not to be sick.

Dad & Me with Paul Buyan in Braynard MN

That’s how I feel most days.  But it isn’t as bad as it might sound.  As long as Dad is still around I’m still the son of one living.  I remember when all my grandparents on both sides of my family were alive.  A diverse group.  All unique in their own ways.  All providing something at various times in my life.  My Dad’s dad was someone I never had many moments with one on one.  There was one; only one.  I was 10 and sitting on a pile of dirt made from the addition being added to our house.

Grandpa Smith was there visiting and for some reason he came over where I was and talked.  I was amazed.  He never talked to me, or for that matter he never talked much to any of the grandkids.  So I never felt like it was something to do with me, but a part of his character and nature; he just didn’t talk to kids.  But this time he talked to me,  I guess because I was the only one around.  I don’t remember how the conversation started or how it finished but I do remember us talking about history.  Do you find that funny, that the first and only conversation between a grandfather and grandson would be about history?  He remembered his grandfather talking about the War when he was growing up.  The Civil War, yes, the Civil War.  There was this instant connection between someone I knew and what I thought was ancient history.  He talked about the first automobile and seeing the first airplane.  Seeing a motion picture for the first time and what it was like to live through the turn of a century, the 20th century.  My grandfather was born before 1900.  My dad was born in 1922, he grew up during the Great Depression.  So did my mom, so did everyone during those years.

Grandpa Smith was the first person I ever saw who had died.  He went back to the earth many many years ago.  But I was young and it didn’t seem to have much of an effect.  Except in my young mind I thought; “there is only one generation between me and . . .”  As aunts and uncles have passed away over the years the thought would pop up for a second or so.  Then last year Mom died, and suddenly the thought was larger and lingered longer than ever before.

Dad In Golf Cart

Dad has had a couple hard years, but he isn’t only older than dirt he is a lot tougher.  He’s a Depression Kid, he survived and fought in World War II.  He is my champion, my hero, my shield.  And when he had returned to the earth, I’ll be the last generation, or the next one how ever you want to see it.  In a way I guess it is a role I’ve been preparing for all my life.  My Dad has been the role model for this position in history for a very long time.  I’m not ready to take that position just yet.

I wonder if my Grand kids think I’m older than dirt.  I know one thing, in a few years I’ll tell them about the time I sat on a pile of dirt and talked to my Grandfather about his grandfather who lived during the Civil War.  That should get either blank stares or looks or wonderment and maybe embed a generational memory for when they are the Last or the Next generation.

The Badge

Upon request, don’t ask why, I have created the For No REal Reason Badge.  You can proudly display this badge on your blog for no real reason.  This means you don’t need a reason to put this badge on your blog or website for that matter.

There are no black hat SEO features in the badge.

If you look at the badge backwards or upside down there are no hidden messages.

If you display it upside down, change will not fall out of the chair.

On a happier note, lint, cracker crumbs and toenail fragments also will not fall out of the chair.

There is a story behind the chair in the badge.  Since you can’t look behind the chair you won’t know what that story is.

Maybe someday I’ll turn the chair around and let you see the story.  NAH!

In need of a badge? Any old badge will do?  Then we have an any old badge for you.

A Badge For No REal Reason

Yes, we have a badge, Not like a sheriff has a badge, more like one of those vanity badges you see on website. You know the ones people put at the bottom of the home page about all the organization they belong to.

This is a weenie badge.  The Weenie and for No Real Reason are some what related.  They go together like a hotdog and bun.

So when the weenie made available a badge to be displayed (not expecting anyone to actually display it, as a matter of fact we this might be the only site besides the weenie itself with a weenie badge) Oh Boy I sure hope so.

The badge seemed perfect.  I like the colors, the old red and yellow ketchup and mustard bottles are exactly like the ones we had when I was a kid growing up.  The weenies were boiled and the buns were always soft and fresh.

We didn’t care about mystery meat back then.  A weenie was a weenie.  You could put anything on it you wanted.  I preferred ketchup, which was allowed in Ohio where I grew up.  Sweet relish was my second choice and then a few onions for that oh so fresh breath feeling.

Add some chips and baked beans and we had ourselves a summer supper or a quick lunch.

So for me the weenie badge isn’t just a badge of honor.  No it is a nostalgic trip down memory lane and back to my childhood. : )

Near the end of his short life, he died at age 29, the missionary Robert Murray McCheyne allegedly said, “God gave me a horse and a message. I have killed the horse and I can no longer deliver the message.”

There was no television or devices for recording this deathbed conversation.  But it has been reported and quoted through history since to help those that spend their lived providing for others that doing so the the detriment of their own physical and mental health is to cut short the valuable service they render to others.

We seem to be in such a time now.  For some it is the economy of commerce, for others the economy of relationships.  Yes, there is such an economy.  It exists and is marked by how we are viewed by others and how we view ourselves in relationship to them.

We all have an emotional bank account.  Did you know that?  We do.  And it is human nature, meaning the nature of being human, that we make deposits and withdrawals into our account.  This account has been referred by some as mental health, or emotional wealth, others refer to it as our “Love Tank” which can be running on fumes or empty.  All are referring to the emotional bank account.

Trying to run your life on empty is about the same as pushing a car down the road in the same situation.  You make little progress and the effort is overwhelming.

Getting The Fuel We Need

There are many sources of fuel.  Other people that make deposits in our bank account are one.  Things we enjoy doing is another source of fuel for our account.  We each run on different fuel, but we all need it to run.

Stopping the Leaks

It is unfortunate there are some people and events which drain our emotional bank accounts.  Sometimes we take out of our account and put into someone elses.  This is healthy and good.  However, some people are emotional bank account robbers.  They are making withdrawals from our accounts when they haven’t made deposits.  As with a bank, making a withdrawal where you havn’t made a deposit is robbery.

There are situations involving people as well that can be a steady drain on our emotional bank accounts.  This is where we have to take action to keep ourselves from being drained.

Killing the Horse

Killing ourselves in this process does no one any good.   Sometimes the toughest love we have to give is to ourselves.

Lot’s more could be said.  Be the kind of person that people want to see coming (they make deposits) and not the kind of person that always drains other.  And if you are running on empty, you can’t keep making withdrawals on your own account, if you try you will end up killing the horse.

My Review is one of 9 for a Lens Cap : )

But today it happened.  I got an email asking me to write a review for a recent purchase of a neck cushion.  You know the kind you can put in the microwave for 30 seconds at a time and heat it up.  It is filled with flax and has a nice cover and a scented pouch.

The one we had lasted for a couple of years till someone visiting decided to put it in the microwave for 3 minutes.  Then when it didn’t feel warm enough put it in for another 3 minutes; with 2 minutes to go it caught fire in the microwave and almost burnt down the house.  Broke the microwave turn table and . . .  and that is how I came to order another one (I bought 2) from Amazon which lead to them sending me an email today asking for a review.

After writing the review I was asked to review other purchases I had made from Amazon.  One of those purchases involved a pair of lens caps for my Nikon 52mm lens which I lost while on a hike on Pima Canyon Trail.

What the heck, after all I like reading Amazon reviews so I wrote my reveiw of the Nikon 52mm Lens Cap.  Can you believe 9 people actually wrote reviews for a lens cap?  One of them only gave it 4 stars.  How do you give a lens cap only 4 stars?

New Friends Photo Op at McBreakfast

Yes, It was another McDonald’s morning and this time we went to the one in the new Walmart at the Oro Valley Marketplace.  This is the famous Walmart, because there was so much opposition to it coming to Oro Valley.  There are some who live here that like to think Oro Valley is Scottsdale.  I think it is more like Irelanddale, but I digress.

Wanting to teach our granddaughter how to survive in the current economic downturn; yes she will be 5 next week making her old enough to learn the value of a buck.  We decided to kill two birds with one stone, for the younger readers please forgive the metaphor.  We took her to the new McDonald’s in the new Walmart.  The two birds, give grandpa the time to read the Sunday paper while Grandma and one generation removed cruised the toy isles at their leisure.

The old guy (that would be me) took his time reading the paper and discovered the Mexican food from the night before was no longer desiring a place in his rented space, but alas, no girls in sight.  They had entered the dreaded time wrap of toys, games and clothes for little girls. (I knew they weren’t just going for the toys).

Left in my charge (to keep the old guy company) were the bear which is almost ever present and the newly acquired zebra, joining his buddy penguin from yesterday’s minnows will eat you alive.

With the paper finished and camera in pocket I set them up in a nice friendly pose with nothing but orange walls for a background.  As focus was being achieved someone decided to eat their McBreakfast in the booth behind.

For a moment I pondered the idea of asking the gentleman if he would mind moving so I could get an good background shot for my bear and zebra newly formed family composition.  However, reflecting on how that might sound I opted not to risk being thrown out of McDonald’s with bear and zebra in hand ( a potentially even more embarrassing situation that babysitting them in the first place. )

Snapping a few shots from various angles I settled on the one above only to have the Grandmother of the bear (that would be the mother of the young lady who possesses the bear) ask me where the bear’s other eye was.  It was still there, and remains so even as we speak, so to speak.  I explained that due to the nature of the shot the bear’s rather large proboscis had obstructed the eye from the lens of the camera, but should she doubt this, all she need do was go to the other room where bear was now napping with zebra after a long morning at the D’s getting acquainted and having their pictures taken.

As to the Mexican Food seeking an exit strategy, we won’t go there.

You won’t even miss the time and it will change your day : )

The Fire Department Has Connections

I hope fire departments everywhere are connected and have connections. Nothing worse than to see those trucks with sirens blaring driving down the street round and round because they don’t have connections.

There are lots of jokes about disconnected firetrucks like why fire engines are red and the old one about what begins with the first letter and ends with the last three.

Fire Engines Are Red

Because there are 12 inches in a ruler
A queen is a Ruler
The Queen Mary is a Ship
Ships are in the Ocean
Fish are in the Ocean
Fish have fins
Fins are from Finland
Finland is next to Russia
Russians are Red
Fire engines are always rushin

Fire Engines Are Red

These are both old jokes associated with disconnected fire departments.  Now you can see why I’m relieved to see Fire Departments with Connections. (Please Note the sign is red)

Sunglasses on a Knee

I know there has been a lot of talk about lipstick wearing pigs this past weekend while we were all waiting for Ike to strike and the Financial Confidence Meltdown this week. FEAR is contagious and a heck of a motivator for Financial Markets. Stampede is the word that comes to mind.

Hoping I can turn the herd with an ugly picture. Hey, at least as good as what the Fed is doing, don’t you think?