Cooperation not competition

Recently I was having a checkup with my GP.  Nice guy, pretty young, but has a basketball team for kids.  Yep, 5 Boys.  While I was working, I kinda kept an eye out for them to say hi to them in the halls, advise him on which teachers to request and which, if assigned to his kids, to dis-enroll them from school and send them to a private school.  Heck, he's a Doctor, he can afford it, right?  Well...Maybe not with 5 boys.

Anyhow, we're chatting a bit in between poking and prodding and all the other pleasantries we, older folks, enjoy with our friends in the medicinal community.  He happened to mention that his oldest had just signed up for Driver's Ed.

I don't know where this thought erupted from, but before it went through the cranial "speak or not" filter, I heard myself say.

"Please teach him the proper sequence for turning an automobile."

Puzzlement on his face.

"1. Take your foot off the gas."

"2.  Turn on your turn signal."

"3.  Gently apply the breaks."

"4.  Turn the car."

"Not... Stomp on the brakes, turn the car, then...if you feel like it, turn on the turn signal."

He chuckled and agreed that, indeed, that was the proper, if rarely performed sequence.  More importantly, agreed to emphasize that with his son.

Mission accomplished and shortly later after a coughing episode, I left the building.

Then I entered that state that Mrs J always worries about (because of the danger).

I started thinking.

Wouldn't life be better if folks drove like getting somewhere was a cooperative endeavor rather than a competition?

I mean, I don't get any brownie points (BPs) for getting to my destination 15 seconds earlier.  I certainly don't get any BPs if I cause you to arrive at your destination 5 minutes later.

So...Since I live in the state named for being friendly, and we're getting so many new friends, I thought I'd rant spend a moment talking about how my new friends might want to modify their former driving habits to accommodate the wide open roads of their new state.

We recognize that you've probably moved here from a state with extremely large cities names after Saint Francis, Saint James, Saint Joseph or The Angels, and that traffic is horrible there.  We also realize that because of that, you haven't had much practice driving at much above 30 (OK 20) MPH.  While, our large cities also have traffic issues, our rural roads didn't use to have any problems.

However, recently, there seems to be an uptick in people who wish to drive significantly below the speed limit on rural highways.  This can cause traffic to back up.  We certainly don't want you to drive faster than you feel comfortable, however there are a couple of things you can do to cooperate with other drivers in your immediate vicinity (vs. compete with them).

1. Passing Lane. Many of our rural highways are two lane, and passing lanes are few, far between, and short. When you get to one of those passing lanes, either slow down further, or at a minimum, maintain your speed and let cars pass (cooperation see?).  Do not use that opportunity to see how fast your car can accelerate to 100MPH (competition see?).  If you do accelerate, do not under any circumstance when exiting the passing zone, decelerate back down to your previous snail's pace speed.  Doing so might cause comments as to your mother's species, the marital status of your parents when you were born and/or your feelings for your maternal parent.

2. Shoulders. There is another thing you can do if a passing lane doesn't seem readily available.  Most Texas rural roads have a very wide shoulder.  If that is the case, when you can see a safe distance ahead, pull onto the shoulder and allow the other cars to pass.  When you do this, you are driving friendly (e.g. cooperatively).  Should someone ahead of you pull over for you, now is the time to use that accelerator and pass them expeditiously.  Once you are safely ahead of them, return to your normal speed and either give them a friendly wave or click on your flashers for a couple of blinks to say "Thanks, Friend!".
That shoulder can also be, legally, used as an acceleration or deceleration lane.  So, if turning off the road, pull on to the shoulder whist simultaneously using the aforementioned 4 step sequence for performing a turn and allow people behind you to proceed uninterrupted (cooperative) instead of the stomp, turn, signal (competitive) method, which results, at best, in some tread wear as well as commentary about your parents.
Similarly, if turning onto the road, use the shoulder to get to the speed of traffic then pull into the traffic lane (cooperative) vs pulling directly into traffic so as to cause all the cars coming up behind you to apply brakes at such a rate as to, at best, cause tread wear and avoid hitting you.  This does not gain you any BPs and again, commentary about your parents will ensue.

3. Speed Limit reduction.  So...for whatever reason, you've been driving at 53 MPH in a 70MPH zone and there are now 15 cars stacked up behind you.  You are about to enter a town and the speed limit has just dropped from 70 to 55.  My Friend, let me be the first to tell you.  Driving 53 in a 70 does not excuse driving 60 in a 55.  Many small town law enforcement agencies frown on that activity and will position one of their fine greeters near the city limits to stop you and thank you for contributing to their town's coffers. However, I am sure that you can talk them out of that opportunity, as long as you start by stating "When I lived in..." and mention that state with all the Spanish names for Saints.  That carries an almost unbelievable amount of weight around here.

Source

On a side note, please also make sure that you keep your license plate from that state on your vehicle.  Bonus points if the little sticker in the corner says 2017 or older.  It makes those of us who actually pay taxes feel all privileged that we can be paying your share in addition to ours.

4.  Passing.  Our 4 lane (+) highways have signs on them that say "Left Lane for passing only."  This means that if you're in the left lane one of three things should be happening.  You're beginning to pass someone.  You're passing someone.  Or, you're getting a safe distance from the person you just passed before returning to the right lane.  The one exception occurs at night on a rural road in Deer Season.  That extra second could mean saving a $500 deductible.  However, even then, if someone is coming up behind, pull back into the right lane, let them pass and then move back.

5. Passing part II. Did you know that virtually all cars now have this magic device, somewhere on the steering wheel, that will keep a constant speed?  This is a wonderful thing for helping to minimize traffic flow problems caused by fluctuating speeds.  On rural highways, click the button, magically your car will maintain a consistent speed, which in clear, dry, daylight conditions should be very close to the posted speed limit.  However, there seems to be a hesitation to use said device.  This hesitation is usually indicated by the following characteristics.  Car goes racing past you in the left lane, you glance at the driver, his head is down looking at something.  Shortly thereafter, you catch up to him, still in the left lane, but well under the speed limit and nothing in front of him.  You pass him.  Shortly thereafter, he's racing past you again.  That magic button will stop that from happening.  Use it.  Oh...Put your phone in your pocket!  Bluetooth if you must talk.

6.  Passing Part III. If you do use that magic button,  when  passing, press on the gas a bit.  The car will accelerate a bit and you will be past the car on your right in a minimum time.  At that point, ease off the gas and let the magic return.  This is especially important when passing an 18 wheeler.  Trust me, going 4 wheeling down the median at 70MPH, because the truck driver decided to change lanes without looking is not fun.  BTDT....twice.

7. Illumination. Did you know that the primary function of headlights is not to see, but to be seen?  According to this article

"At first there was no lighting on a vehicle and no nighttime driving.Although the electric light bulb was invented by Thomas Edison in 1879, the first lighting on automobiles was not electric headlamps. When people started driving at night, the first vehiclelighting devices were oil (kerosene) burning lanterns. Photographs of several early European vehicles and their kerosene lamps are shown by Drach (1993). These lighting devices provided a signal to drivers of other vehicles and carriages, and also to pedestrians."

Source

So, two things.  Turn ON your headlights especially if visibility is poor (e.g. Fog, Rain) or it's dawn or dusk.  It doesn't matter if you can see without them.  I darn near got smacked recently by a White Prius (like pictured above) driving in fog without his lights on.  I was turning left onto the highway, he was coming from the right and completely invisible in the fog. Fortunately, I spotted him before crossing the center line.  Yes, my fault, but it's still possible to be both right....and Dead!

Second thing,  If headlights are primarily for seeing, how come driverless cars have them?

Source

All righty then...Got that off my chest and feel significantly better for it.  And it's now on the internet, so rather than have to rattle off to my wife why I  think the parents of the person ahead of me were unmarried, I can now just say "Honey, #6".

To which she'll reply, sighing.

"Yes Dear!"

Ain't life grand?

Day of the Dill... or Day 3 of Beans...

Well, here we are again.  3 days of Beans.  Are we having fun yet?

So, Saturday afternoon I was feeling kinda pookie (in other words, run down) and took a nap.  Woke up, started to get ready to fix dinner and...

You ever get a CRAVING for something?  Well, still feeling kinda pookie, I opened the refrigerator to get stuff to make chicken and potatoes and my eyes fell on the jar of 'Talk O' Texas Pickled Okra (Mild)' and, boy, I started salivating and shaking like, well, a dog wanting a treat.

Ever have pickled okra?  Stuff is good.  So I ate the 5 remaining okra and...  Man, that pickling vinegar sure smelled good.  So I chugged about 2 cups of pickle juice.  Ahhh.  Perfection.  Eyes popped open, shakes stopped, stomach calmed down totally, sinuses cleared and, WOW, I really felt better and awake and alive.

Cravings...  They exist for a reason.  Your mind and body are telling you that something is missing.  So, those cravings for chocolate are not just because good chocolate is good tasting, but full of good stuff that helps stabilize moods and so forth and blah blah blah...

Pickle juice, that's what I wanted to really write about.  Say what?  Beans has totally lost his mind, right?  Nope.  Back in the day, when I was fighting, pickles and olives were always a good snack, full of electrolytes and stuff the body needs when melting while wearing armor and fighting in the hot summer Florida sun.  But pickle juice?  Well, pickle juice is wet, cool if kept out of the sun, full of electrolytes also and a lot less sugar than Gatorade.  Roman soldiers, gladiators and workers drank vinegar and water.  Add a little salt (from pickling) and, et voila, pickle juice.

I tend to eat a lot of pickles during the summer, and occasionally during the winter.  So there's always some pickle juice in the refrigerator.  Great for days when no other liquids seem to quench your thirst.  My favorite is, besides the Talk O' Texas mild Pickled Okra, are Publix (grocery chain in the Southeast USA) dills.  Just the right touch of garlic and dill and vinegar and salt.  Mmmmmm.  Getting thirsty now just thinking about it.

 

Mmmmm, pickled Okra... Mmmmmm..... 

 

Publix dills....  Publix, where shopping is a pleasure
(seriously, it's the only food store short of Trader Joe's where the place is clean and the staff is nice.)

Seriously.  Next time you're sweating to death working outside, chug some pickle juice.  If you're a novitiate, mix it with a little water first.  A cup, 2 cups worth is perfect.  Back in Lawnmowing days I'd drink about 4 cups total over 2-3 hours of yardwork.  

Other than that, got nothing.  Have a great Sunday, enjoy the 6 to 12" of snow over the northern midwest, gotta love that global warming...   juvat will hopefully be here on Monday, heck, he better be.

Feeling a little weak?  Eat a pickle.  Don't throw that pickle juice away, save it for a shaky day!

Dog Days

So, as reported in my June 7th, 2018 post (https://oldafsarge.blogspot.com/2018/06/requiem-pour-ma-chienne.html)  my rottie passed away.  Much sadness ensued, and dark times happened.  Mrs. Andrew and I had discussed getting another dog, but I was looking for some separation between the two (old gone dog and new here dog.)

But... well... we were both sad.  One of the things Liesl (the rottie) did was keep Mrs. Andrew company while Beans was out shopping, or sleeping or whatever.  And so the days when Beans was away from Mrs. Andrew were especially troubling for the now-grieving lady of my life.

So, early in July, 2018, after only a monthish without a dog, we decided to get a new one.  We enjoyed Liesl and understood Rottweilers pretty well, so, of course, we set our search parameters on another female Rottie, preferably a young one.

Parameters:  Female.  Young.  Low to mid energy.  Intelligent.  Rottweiler.  

5 simple parameters, right?  Easy-peasy, there will be tons of Rotties out there, right?  Especially in Florida or South Georgia, all places easily within driving distance, right?  Maybe from the place we got Liesl from in 2009, right?

Um...  Yeah...  And I'll sell you a weapon-system that is cheap, on-time and works, too...

So, first off, the place we got Liesl from was no more.  Seems, eventually through the grapevine, the two owners had a fight, broke up (ain't love grand?) and peeved everyone off in Georgia by leaving and skipping out on bills and warrants and stuff. Oy vey...

So, well, Florida and South Georgia...  We go to various pet-rescue-search engines and type in our basic parameters and start getting hits.  Not a lot, but...  Corresponding to all the various locations resulted in "Oh, animal is still too sick..." or "Oh, animal is already been adopted..." or "Oh, insert excuse here..."  

Hmmmm.   Okay, adjust parameters:   Young.  Low to mid energy.  Intelligent.  Rottweiler.

We started getting more hits.  We even got visited by one 'evaluator' who told us something very curious...  Seems Florida and South Georgia rescue Rottweilers are controlled by one group, under the control of one woman.  The evaluator said we were 'good parents' and 'good prospects' and liked how we had our lives arranged and we had a good recommendation from our vet.  No problem.  Should be easy to find and adopt a dog, right?

Side note:  Why adopt a rescue?  Well, many reasons.  Good dogs need rescuing.  And breeders charge mega-arm-and-leg.

New parameters set, dogs on websites available, applications out, and...  Nothing.  No news.  No response.  

Mrs. Andrew calls up various people, finally gets the head of the Cartel, er, Mafia, er, Rescue Organization, and things seem to be back to okay.  We are given information on a nice young male dog in Pasco County and a 'visit' is arranged.

Visit day on a Sunday comes, and Mrs. Andrew and Beans drive down I-75 to Pasco County, and take a confusing number of this-road, that-road, what-road to the meet-place, which is at a puppy day-care.

(Insert ominous music...)

We show up on time, and... no-one is there.  There's some dogs in the back area, but no humans to be seen or heard...  We wait.  And wait. And wait.  An hour in the hot Florida sun in July (which means both heat and humidity, yuck) we call and the person we're meeting will be another 30 minutes or so. 

Finally, someone shows up (who works at the puppy day-care) and we go inside to get ready for the meet-up.  We enter a dank, smelly, slightly rotten old double wide that, well, smelled of dog urine and the floor was rotten and just yuck.

Another hour of waiting and the lady finally shows up with the dog...  And we find out the interview isn't for us to see the dog, but for the Cartel, er, Mafia, er... to meet us.  Things go well, we think, and so we drive home assuming we have a chance at a dog.  It only took 5 hours and lots of soap to get rid of the urine stench out of our skins (clothes went directly into washer as soon as we got home.)

Come Monday we are informed by the Junta, er, Cartel, er, Mafia, er, Rescue Organization that our applications have been denied, go away, we suck, we don't deserve a dog, etc.

Which, of course, sets Mrs. Andrew on a darker spiral...

So we start looking outside of our parameter area.  And quickly find a nice lady in Alabama who has a young, male, Rottie mix (there goes another push against the parameters...) ready for adoption within a week.  She communicates with our landlady, who has nothing but good things to say about us, and to our vet, who tells her any dog would be lucky to be adopted by us.  And, pending final health clearance of the dog, known by her as Mr. Wiggles (yuck...) we were good to go.

After having been shafted by the Junta-Cartel-Mafia of Florida, we tried not to get our hopes up.

Finally, the clearance came.  A weekend trip to Alabama was arranged, hotel arrangements made, things were Green to Go!  And then Mrs. Andrew gets sick, as a dog.  No details will be given, but, not hospitalistic, but bad...  So, dang it, moved trip back one day, adjusted hotel reservations, and slept the night away.  Woke up, Mrs. Andrew is better but not ready for travel, conversations with Adopter Lady get a work-around.  Instead of us going to her, 5 hours one way on back roads partially, she'd meet us in Marietta, GA off of I-75 the next day.  So, yay, trip back on-ish.  Hotel reservations cancelled, new printout of map and plan  printed, we rest one more night and hit the road, Jack.

We scoot up to the meet-location and... wait.  Finally Adopter Lady and Mr. Wiggles show up.  He's cute, but... Parameters:  Young-Check.  Low to mid energy-Check.  Rottweiler(ish)-well, he's a black and tan... but... he's looking more like a hound-dog...

He likes me, thinks Mrs. Andrew is interesting but doesn't like her powered chair.   Forms signed, money exchanged, furtive glances given (no Junta-Cartel-Mafia members anywhere) and we now have a supposed Rottweiler mix.  Hop back into our car (it's late July, in South Georgia, which means hot and humid) and we head down the road.  To the wonderful sounds of the now-renamed Kegan howling, like a hound-dog, at being separated from very nice Adopter-Lady.

Um.  This is beginning to be seem sub-optimal.  

Dog finally settles down.  Laying with his head between us, on Mrs. Andrew, and the two fall asleep.  Yay.

Then...  He farted.  No.  He FARTED!  From the back seat, a stench so horrid we both about died.  Quickly finding an exit, I get the first chance to walk my dog...  and clean up a couple cubic yards of dog poop, while hiding from the abominable heat and humidity...

We get home.  Life is good.  Dog is... good.  Very good.   He settles down, we settle down, and... curiosity strikes.  He's not a Rottweiler.  He doesn't look much like a Rottie.  What is he?

Get a kit from Embark.com (doggie DNA people) and send it out.

Meantime, Mr. Low-to-mid-energy Kegan recovers from his heartworm treatment, and... OMG, He's HIGH ENERGY and loves patting us with his feet.  Totally un-Rottie. More... something else.  He's clubbing us and standing on us and wags his feet at us and what the heck?

Get the results back... 100% Cane Corso.  A mid-sized Italian Mastiff breed.  Italian.  Figures, since he talks with his hands...

So.  Here we are.  New dog.  Mrs. Andrew is happy.  Kegan is happy.  Beans is happy.  We're all happy.  And we have a dog, who talks with his hands...

This is him Christmas morning.  He ate most of the bone within two weeks.  The green ball died in three weeks, even with him not being allowed unsupervised access.  The big brown plank is a chunk of moose antler, which he's still working on.  The rope and ball is something Mrs. Andrew made, which he plays with like an idiot.  The red thing is a hunting dog training tool, which is mostly safe from him destroying, mostly.

Uh... Hello?

Looks like I missed the boat.  Had a really nice post ready to go and combonculator crashed.  I think the CPU is okay, as I saw a small parachute floating down after the canopy blew...

Soooo... Quickly typing from wife's system, Mrs. Beans is giving me the evil eye, dog is kicking me hard because he's hungry (when isn't he) so off to combonculator repair store in hopes of sudden fixing at cheap price.

Ten to One it's some stupid software conflict that will have resolved itself by the time I get to the store and Sir Repair Tech will look at me like a nun looks at a kid covered in mud.

Oh, and...  Just finished Rasimus' 2nd autobiography, "Palace Cobra."  Good book, and, okay, the Phantom isn't as much a turkey as I make it out to be.

Ooooh... a picture of...

 

Artiste's rendition of Mother Mary in the first recorded MMA event...

Update:  So, last night, as I was putting the finishing touches on consolidating the Grand Unification Theory, with charts and calculations (or some blog post, whatever,) my combonculator's  fan decided to spool up as if it was a jet engine.  I fully expected some flightline gremlins to come out and motion for the computer to move forward to a taxiway, but... instead the bastige thingy locked up.  Could not turn it off.  Had to pull the powerplug and the battery to stop it from self-destructing.  Reboot attempt 1 failed.  Reboot attempt 2 failed.  Reboot attempt 3... failed.  I waited an hour, tried rebooting yet again, and failure.

So this morning I schlepped it to the local decent computer repair place (who have repaired the power plug (by replacing the whole housing of the computer) and the screen when I somehow managed to break it (walked in, walked out 15 minutes later...) and, of course, the computer rebooted correctly.  Sat there purring nicely like a happy kitten, all systems worked.  Computer-Repair-Dude laughed, did some mystical incantations and systems checks and said, "What did you do to Windows and AVG and World of Tanks?"  

"What?"  Seems that all three were trying to update and do their things at the same time, while some stupid other programs were attempting to run, or some other reason that sounds more plausible like "it broke because it could" and so I lost everything from about noon yesterday to now-ish.

So, grand unified theory (which included warships must have GUNS THAT WORK AND AMMO THAT IS INEXPENSIVE) or blog post about whatever-something-something (now I have to try to dredge up what I was blathering about...) have gone away.  Lost forever.  Dust in the wind...

So, well, as Randy Quaid said in "Independence Day"...

Vacation Begins...

US Navy Photo by PH3 Don Choquette

Now.

Guess which bird would be mine...

Yup, we're off to see the progeny, been looking forward to this for several months.

Now we're on our way.

As always, posting might be light.

Be seeing you...

Time to...

Why?

Anguish
August Friedrich Albrecht Schenck

I want to bellow with rage and strike out at those who perpetrate violence upon the innocent. Those murdered while at worship, those murdered while simply going about their daily routine.

I want to banish from the planet those who kill in the name of religion. For that matter, all those who kill in the name of some -ism or dogma.

I want to be angry at the damage done to Notre-Dame de Paris and a thousand other places of worship in recent months.

But I know it would change not a thing. Evil and violence will continue, my rage against such things would amount to no more than a small drop of water in a mighty sea.

All I can do is make the space around me pleasant, treating those I come into contact with every day with respect and a smile.

There are days I feel like the ewe in Herr Schenck's painting above, anguish over things lost, bright new beginnings destroyed by the caprice of Man or Nature.

I want to rant, but I know, I believe, that all things happen for a reason. All will become clear in due course.

Though patience is required, patience is hard.

But I try...

O Thou Great Being! what Thou art,
Surpasses me to know;
Yet sure I am, that known to Thee
Are all Thy works below.

Thy creature here before Thee stands,
All wretched and distrest;
Yet sure those ills that wring my soul
Obey Thy high behest.

Sure, Thou, Almighty, canst not act
From cruelty or wrath!
O, free my weary eyes from tears,
Or close them fast in death!

But, if I must afflicted be,
To suit some wise design,
Then man my soul with firm resolves,
To bear and not repine!

Prayer, Under The Pressure Of Violent Anguish
-Robert Burns

In der Heimat

Thursday Morning, the day before Good Friday

"Heimat" is one of those foreign words which only sort of translates directly to English. In this case today's title translates roughly to "In the Homeland." If you guessed that the language was German, you would be correct.

So why can’t we just translate Heimat as ‘homeland’? Because one’s Heimat is not necessarily their homeland – it’s not even necessarily a country. It can refer to a specific region, city or county. Heimat is the place where you feel the most at home, and that could be the place you grew up in, or it could be somewhere you have lived for a long time. The concept of Heimat seems to be a very emotional one; it is more about feeling at home than being in your physical home. Max Frisch, the famous German playwright, claimed that the word Heimat was unübersetzbar – untranslatable. (Source)

I get a bit miffed when somebody says that a certain word can't be translated into another language, that's nonsense. There are no concepts within our species which cannot be understood by all of us. Can a single word be used to translate a concept from one language to another? Not always. Sometimes a simple word like Heimat can't be expressed with a single English word like "homeland." sometimes it can take a paragraph (or more) to describe a concept expressed by a single word.

New England is my homeland, my Heimat if you will. I grew up here, though I was away for twenty-four years, it was always my home. Probably always will be. I have no doubt that others feel the same way about their homeland. Perhaps my buddy Dwight could chime in about his homeland, which I gather is North Carolina. While he lived for quite a while in a very lovely place, Sandy Eggo, you could always tell that he wanted to get back "home" someday. He did.

Easter Sunset

When I was a callow youth, I had trouble understanding why some Southern officers abandoned their allegiance to the United States upon their home states seceding from the Union. It's hard to break ties with the place you call home. I understand it now. Would I do that? Not in a million years, whereas New England is my native land, I owe a higher allegiance to the United States, especially the Constitution. It was my raison d'être for all those years I wore the uniform of the United States Air Force. I have not been released from the oath I swore, nor do I wish to be.

Yes, it's simple, and complicated, all at the same time.

Some deep thoughts after a pleasant weekend. We're traveling at the end of the week, going out to see the kids out west. Looking forward to it. Blogging could get sparse for a cuppla days, who knows? While I will have access to a computer, there are grandchildren to spoil.

A man's got to have priorities, ya know?

Morning, Easter Monday

Work is great, life is great.

I'm blessed and awfully thankful for that.

May you all have a wonderful week.

Ciao!