While this post could also be called “A Love Letter to a Neglected Home” or “Pants and Comb” or even, “Glad To See My Family and Friends, but…”, I didn’t want to limit myself to what I brain dumped.  So, it a presently unedited (Okay, slightly edited) form, here is my take on how it feels to be home after extensive “being goneness” this summer.

After having the opportunity to go on a long planned European trip in early June, the “spending time with the roots” part of the summer travels followed.  During our travels to the “colder” places of Europe, shorts were not really needed.  In fact, I took two pairs and didn’t wear them once. So, when it came time to pack for a visit to the Midwest, I was only able to assume I would need 2 pairs of shorts.  I should only need 2 pairs of shorts, right?  The Midwest is north of Texas and my morning walks will not be hindered by sheets of sweat running off my body as I attempt to scare off any of the calories consumed during numerous social gatherings.  It takes over 16 hours to get there, so it must be cooler there.  As I lay the groundwork for the contradiction, you have probably already leaped ahead a few days….

During our trip, we spent nights in 4 different locations.  The first location is where I realized the limitations I placed on myself.  Due to a combination of excessive friction, extreme amounts of sweating AND a healthy diet of Mexican food, one pair of shorts decided they were going to “make a split”. While not the first pair of pants I have split, it was a reminder of the occasional cruelness able to be unleashed by a simple trip using a suitcase with limited dimensions.  Fortunately, the patch for my pants provided some additional life to the shorts. The shorts were able to be juggled for the two weeks with frequent washings and frequent wardrobe changes.  If my shorts had the ability to think, they likely would have known they would be moving to the “pile of misfit pants” when we arrived back home. 

How could a simple comb make a 1,200-mile journey worthwhile?  On our trip, I took one comb. It is not a space hog.  It doesn’t cause a suitcase to “suck it in”.  It is just a reminder of how, when traveling, space usually reserved for certain items is less a priority for some people than it is for others.  (If you are one who has NO IDEA what “putting things in its place” means, your parents were much better at staying out of the details then I am able. And, you may lose things with some frequency…)

Despite the nuisance of it, my comb was kept in a bag.  Every morning after my shower (This is not limiting me to morning showers OR to combing my hair at other times), I would comb my hair.  The comb would be carefully removed from the bag. I would put it back in the bag when I was done.  During the process of us hopping from house to hotel to house to hotel, the “comb bag” ended up in different suitcases.  (This still was “organized” BECAUSE we had our “over-nighter” bag when staying in hotels.  This kept us from hauling in all of the suitcases.)  During one of our “stops”, my wife asked if she could use the comb.  I agreed–she is my wife.  When the comb had completed the straightening of her uppermost protein strands, she put the comb back.  It was almost where it was supposed to go, but not quite.  After a couple more borrowings and a couple more returns that were almost the same place where it was before its workout, the comb was acknowledged as being DITB (Definitely In this Bag).  I trusted my wife.  I knew at the end of our journey of 1,200 miles of driving, I should find my comb and be able to put it in its place.

This (as I edit this, it was a couple mornings ago) morning, as I got dressed in my house while standing in my bathroom with most of my clothes in my closet and a few waiting to spring out of the suitcase and assume their previous positions in a few rather unkempt dresser drawers, I realized how good it was to be home.  I remember an old line from a 1980’s movie, “Home is where you hang your hat.”  This seems to illustrate a person who has a more flexible definition of a home than me.  To me, home is where there is bounty and where I can find my things.  I don’t need lots of things.  I just like to have my things available to me, and I like to know where they are at.  And, as silly as it sounds, I have been smiling the whole time I am writing this.  I like an adventure.  When the adventure is over and it is only about waiting to go home, not even a whole day sitting in a car driving across 7 states and dealing with a few people who were not able to delay their accidents for just ONE day are able to wipe the smile of inner peace from my face.  

School morning can sometimes be a rather challenging time…unless you don’t care about being on some type of schedule.

During a recent school commute this spring, we were not showing our best time management skills.  The call of “The bus is leaving in 2 minutes” didn’t awaken the desire of my passengers to maximize their remaining 120 seconds.  (As in most households, the time threat is largely that–just a threat.  But, you have to do a crazy thing occasionally to make the threat valid.  When the “bus” was responsible for dropping all 4 of the kids off, I left the one son in the house and backed out of the garage.  I continued backing so that the car was far enough down the street so that a quick glance out of the garage would make the pulse accelerate to the necessary speed commonly known as “fear” or “He wouldn’t leave me, would he?”)  As I made it clear the driver’s seat of the van was my next destination, I reminded those who cared the seconds was fewer than my previous announcement.  The scurrying that followed confirmed my words were actually spoken outside of my head and not just thought.

After the passengers were loaded and the car was backed out beyond the driveway, we were able to nearly shift into auto-pilot.  The auto-pilot was interrupted by a possible plea from the back seat, “I think I forgot something.”

Not being one to draw out a situation, I hoped my, “No time for maybe. If you forgot something, say so” would quickly help the requester determine whether it was a real or a fake something.  And, we may have turned around OR we may have decided the something was of less than a significant nature.

Unfortunately, the time has passed and the something may have been at home or just hidden in her book bag.  My only point in writing this was to highlight the need for decisiveness in the morning routine.  Of course, would I have failed to make a note shortly thereafter, the whole incident would have been lost.  Or, as I have had to do in the past, I take my pithy, witty remark and contrive a story around it.  I can definitely say with absolute certainty, this story is one or the other.

The past week+ has been one of far greater unproductivity than I would have liked.  (Please do not confuse this with my previous post.  Their similarities are completely coincidental.) If I had not made the “job search” a January priority, this lack of productivity would not have been as big a deal. Unfortunately, a job search being conducted on a computer with a bad case of the reboots has forced me to duplicate my efforts nearly every time I have sat at my desk.  As I look back over this time where I was constantly cursing myself for failing to “save” THAT document, I  now believe I can return to my “normal” productive life.  (My productive is not your productive, but my recent productive was really not productive at all!)

What did I try as I sought to remove the roulette from my computer’s life? (Of course, it is my life I am concerned about.   My inclusion of my computer is to make me slightly less selfish than I may appear.  Buying a new computer might fix it, but the problem-solving part of me believed that to be the path of a loser.  My computer is inanimate, but when you stare at its screen login, any failure on its part to meet my needs feels/smells like a betrayal.)

1. First, I just accepted the first few of reboots as a power thing.  I do have a UPS (Uninterrupted Power Supply), but I thought, “maybe it isn’t working correctly”.  When the power went off briefly during a recent storm, the UPS kicked on.  This coupled with the ongoing random reboots quickly made me pursue other possibilities.
2. After 3 or 4 days of 2-3 reboots a day (Most documents were saved as “recovered” documents AND my browser asked me if I wanted it to restore the “tabs” as they were when the trigger landed on the bullet-laden chamber.), I started refamiliarizing myself with the “Event Logs”.  I kept seeing an event error for a program that had been uninstalled.  Being a “doer”, I felt deleting the registry setting was a good idea.  (I had some regrets being the bull in the china shop who might unleash all sorts of possible damage.  As the reboots mounted, my “fixing” instinct became uncontrollable.)  Fortunately, I only deleted one registry setting.  (If not familiar with the registry, this is a place within Windows where you can cause great havoc should you not be careful.)  My recognition of the potential headaches I might unleash allowed me to show restraint.  Fortunately, my one “fix” did take care of the one issue.
3. As the reboots continued, I experimented with oddball things.  I left my music playing when not sitting at the computer thinking the program might somehow provide a defense against the “reboot roulette”.  While a small amount of hope was created, this method also proved inadequate.
4. Next, I moved to the “Uninstall” step.  The event logs showed the problems starting on 9/22/16.  Coincidentally, that was the day Microsoft updated my computer with 3 different updates.  In my mind, whether illogical or not, I decided I could uninstall all 6 or so updates from the present back to the date in the past.  In theory, this was an excellent idea.  However, when the uninstalling takes so long it can’t be done in one sitting and the computer does not ask permission to become as current as possible when I am not there, this method only got me more frustrated.  (I uninstalled.  The computer was having a meal sent from Microsoft it did not know how to refuse.  Turning off the network connection was a viable but not a good option.)
5. Next, I sought after a “recovery point”.  (A time where I told the computer, “Please remember today was a time I liked you.”  If not “like”, at least not “hate”.)  I did go back to a recent recovery point.  And, while this seemed to go okay. It didn’t fix anything.  In fact, I am blaming the “recovery” issue from preventing me from uninstalling all of the “updates” being blamed for making my computer sick.
6. After copying and pasting a couple of the details from the event log into an internet search, I received pages providing suggestions on how I might solve that problem.  I made changes to the computer based on the recommendations.  Does it matter if the hard drive “never” stops or a couple of other small changes?  It seemed to be a proven way to “maybe” fix one of my computers symptoms.
7. With thoughts of a new computer and the pain of software loading and constant rebooting in my head until the process was over, I reached out for a couple of pieces of software to fix the problems “magically” I was not able to do in the piecemeal manner I was using.  First, I downloaded “System Mechanic”.  This software made me think I was doing something to improve the health of my computer, but the errors in the event log continued.
8. Then, I thought, “There has to be a program that fixes a few buggy Windows things.”  Such a program did exist.  I had reservations.  The program was called Reimage Repair.  It seemed to be reviewed okay, but when installing a program with the power to play with all of the boxes in your computers attic and basement, I had to take pause.  The result of the pause was the realization I would not stay sane unless the computer was fixed or replaced.  I installed it and tracked the progress on the computer screen.  (I would pause our partial binge of “Homeland” to confirm the screen said the computer was getting happy.)  After more than 2 hours of allowing the software to play a second time to make sure it didn’t miss anything the first time, I am claiming success…sort of.
9. A couple types of errors are still showing up in the event log.  I will try and fix them at my leisure.  They don’t seem to have fangs or claws capable of causing my little princess to stumble.  If she does, I will pick her up off the ground.  We will both get on the horse together with the hope the next reboot will be a better ride.

My trust with computers (and people) is only as solid as the last time they lied or failed me.  We will continue to work together as I gain a little bit more trust (I hope) each day.  She (does this mean I trust women more easily than men or what does it say that my computer is assigned a female pronoun?) has been sick about 50% so far for 2017.  I am hoping she likes her medicine and stops having so much gas!

I haven’t posted in awhile.  I am not writing to feed the need of the many “awesome” fans who have demanded it.  I am writing to justify in my own mind the presence of this blog.  If my name is on it, I need to check in and address substantial gaps in my postings.  Since resolutions to “Post More” didn’t work, I am going to run thru my excuses and evaluate what achievable goals are available.

As the fall unfolded last year (Was it just 3 months ago?  Saying “last year” makes it sound like it was over 12 months ago.  The older you get, the more costly the loss of one month let alone a whole year.), the distractions of life made it very difficult to secure the time to write something relevant.  I have continued to write/think/generate ideas.  I consider this a very healthy thing.  The difficulty has been gathering enough related thoughts.  The moments of creative thought have not aligned with the moments where I am parked in my chair with the computer available.

What were those distractions?  Let me list a few…

1. Employment –  We can probably agree on the need to have an income.  Do to circumstances beyond our control, the long-term clarity of this need was put in jeopardy.  Attempting to steer our way thru this foggy future has pulled time from other pursuits.  So, even when the computer is ready for input, I was often thinking foggy thoughts.
2. Family – This is not as distracting or as dire as it may sound.  As has been our habit for a number of years, we often find our home serving as a residence to more than those who are related by blood.  We added one last year (this happened in 2015, but it seems too recent to say 2 years ago) and we added his brother to our home this fall.  While we have limited cars available, we now had another person who needs to be taxied to work.  This was less problematic until just after the last post.  Within a week of the last post, one of our vehicles became a pile of metal, and all we received was a small check.
3. Life* – Everyone has life, but life* must be something different.  And, since the “squared” doesn’t make typing “life2” with a superscript 2 very easy, I will just go forward with the “*”.  Besides driving extra, my daughter is in the middle of robotics season.  I granted permission to being called a “judge” this year.  So, I attend all of her meets and make sure the robots fit into the 18″ x 18″ x 18″ box.  (I also make sure they can connect with the brain of the robot.  And, it is good to see lots of zip ties.)  Also, it seems we are making LOTS of food.  This is not just because we have 7 sitting down for most meals.  We are also trying to help a family down the street who has health problems.  If we are making a big crockpot of something, we might give them half.  Or, we have also been known to make them a meal completely different from what we are eating.  Another part of our present life seems to be an excessive number of trips to the grocery store.  Too many separate lists and too little certainty on what ingredients are needed to be gathered until the morning of the meal.
4. Mid-life crisis – Maybe it is just me.  I try and tell myself everyone within 5 or 10 years of my age has frequent moments where they ask, “Why am I here and why do my goals seem to need to be adjusted on a yearly or even quarterly basis?”  As I attempt to find the proper stride for this decade of my life, I am still filled with a serious of doubts:  which path is the right one for me?; did I miss the fork in the path I was meant to take?; and, do I want to know how many decades I have left so I can make the best use of my time remaining?  I often reflect on my “resolutions” toward the end of the year.  Even my loosely configured resolutions are often left unfilled when reviewed by the most generous (or should that be “less forgiving”?) of judges–myself.  I don’t want to fail, but I seem to fail to use the tools available to remind me of my goals.  Or, is my lack of success more a criticism of failing to make good goals?  Hmmmm…this free will thing is fraught will peril!!
5. Holidays – I don’t recall being surprised by the holiday season this year…or any previous year.  I believe I am participating in a bit of “piling on”.  If I have 4 legitimate excuses for failing to maintain a personal commitment, then what is one more.  Between traveling and the other social activities of the season, this “excuse” might be the most accurate of any.

When the whole thing is boiled down, two conclusions are clear:  I either am not committed to writing or I am a poor planner.  Depending on the day, the answer may vary–either conclusion hurts my feelings a little bit. 😦

This morning was another morning where we had fewer cars than drivers.  I provided the necessary transportation for our stranded driver before going to the supermarket.  (I did need to go to the market, but my stubbornness in not running just ONE errand at a time “forced” me to run the errand then.)

As I walked in, I was struck by the misplacement of the “sani-wipes” for wiping the cart handle.  (Shouldn’t they be between the cart and the groceries rather than between the cart and the outgoing door?  I guess this is a rant better reserved for another topic.)  Once I shook off this temporary annoyance, I pushed the cart forward while pulling out my phone to see what was on my list.  The next thing I remember I was standing idly by my cart looking dubious.  An apparently pregnant mother with a child in her cart needed me to move my cart.  She seemed apologetic.  I moved my cart while commenting, “You are pushing for three. I am sorry I was in your way.”

After I made my comment, I wondered if I somehow had put my foot in my mouth again.  Did I choose to make a comment and make the comment in one of the “dimensions” where it was viewed as offensive?  (This is assuming  there are parallel dimensions.  This approach is sometimes necessary to soften the blow when I am convinced I said nothing wrong but one of the hearers seems to disagree.  Usually, my intentions are truly pure.) I kept shopping as I continued to use my “Wunderlist” to track down what I needed to purchase.

In the Mexican food section, I stumbled across my pregnant fellow shopper again.  She was friendly.  Of course, this implies I did not upset her before.  She mentioned how people are often so uptight and worried they will offend other people.  She let me know she was due in mid-November–if the country survives the election.  There will be  almost 2.5 years between her kids.  And, strangely, her dogs gave her extra love during her first pregnancy.  Before she knew officially and about 3 weeks into this pregnancy,  the dogs were more loving again.

For some reason, I chose this point to relay to her my two “Why did you bring up pregnancy?” faux pas.  First, when I was late single digits, we had a family who had children approximately the age of my siblings and I.  One afternoon when our friend’s mother was picking up her children, I made an observation.  I shared this observation with my mother later.  “I think Mike’s mom is pregnant.”  When my mother’s curiosity is up, she needed to find out.  When she asked, she found out Mike’s mom was pregnant.  Since they were not telling people yet, it seemed to upset Mike’s mom.  Although my mom did not blame me directly, she pointed to this issue as the reason the friendship starting to slowly crumble.

The second “pregnant” question was much more unnecessary.  After our kids were no longer using some of the baby items, we had a garage sale.  The sales were steady, but not as brisk as we would have liked.  To try and generate some additional sales, I pulled out my sales wit.  As one shopper who was a little heavy in the middle looked at baby items, I innocently asked, “When are you due?” In some dimension, the “due” may not have implied pregnancy, but circumstantially, her assumption was not a huge stretch.  Her reply of, “I’m not.” quickly accounted for one less shopper at our garage sale.

My new pregnant friend listened patiently and sympathetically to my tales.  She seemed glad to have a little distraction from her day.  And, unsurprisingly, so did I.  I was grateful to get something more than enchilada sauce today.  Hopefully, everything I said was certified safe in my present dimension.

A leaping toad carrying a football is very unlikely to survive a tackling from a tire.  Where is the football now?  He fumbled it when he was tackled.

A friend informed me they were pulled over today and given a ticket for going 20 miles over the limit.  On my evening walk, I had a sighting of a policeman pulling another someone over.  Is it a coincidence today is the end of the month and the end of the first half of the year?  I am guessing some men in blue were told to hit some numbers and reach their quota.  And, no, I was not one of the someone’s who played a part in forming this theory….

As I pondering writing this post, I was not sure how to title it OR what stories could be cobbled together to make it work.  While they may not all be pranks, it may be better stated as being outside of the norm OR, in one case, the new norm.

Magazine defiling:  When I was growing up a few to many decades ago, I used to subscribe to a magazine that attempted to appeal to my teenage mind.  This magazine had comic strips, posters, and other things targeting my pubescent mind.  As my hand reached into my mailbox on that ancient day, I was excited to pull out a new edition of my magazine.  At the mailbox, I glanced over the magazine.  A couple of the pages seemed anxious to show me their offerings.  Unfortunately, the comics on the back were what my eyes lingered on.

I forget the exact setup of the comic strip.  I believe it has two brothers interacting.  In this particular one, the younger brother was getting the best of his older brother.  (In real life, I have a younger brother.)  Amazingly, written under the younger brother in the comic strip was my brother’s name, and under the older brother, my name was written.  It was handwritten.  I was bewildered how this might have occurred.

Fortunately, the post office employee who attended our church was so proud of himself he could not keep his mouth shut.  He admitted to seeing the magazine come through the post office.  Apparently, he could not control his mischievous side.  I don’t recall whether his desire to be ornery existed when the magazine was picked up OR if the cartoon made his Mr. Hyde emerge.  Regardless, he was quite proud of his prank.  If only “going postal” was as innocent as his little prank.

Package Delivery:  My son works at a popular fast food restaurant.  It is literally only a 15 minute walk from the house.  It appears this place is quite popular with the local delivery people as well.  As a package needed to be signed for the other day, I was working on scribbling out the scratches that constitute my signature.  The delivery guy then comments, “Your son told me he would not be home tonight.”  I must have given him quite an odd look because he felt compelled to explain. (My son backed up his claims as well.)

“I talk to your son almost every day.  When I was going through the drive thru today, I told your son I had a package for you.  Your son told me to tease you a little bit.  So, that is what I tried to do.”, he said.

My son got a kick out of it when next I talked to him.  While he and my relationship is not always perfect, it is a relief to know he puts into practice nearly everything Dale Carnegie taught in his book.

Amazon Delivery:  As I sat in my den with a window facing toward the front of the house, I was surprised to hear a car stop in front of our mailbox.  As a reluctantly unrepentant nosey person, I observed what was occurring.  A very casually dressed female emerged from the car and opened the trunk.  She grabbed a package from the trunk before setting back in her car.  She did something to the package before walking up the sidewalk and doing the knock/doorbell combo. I opened the door to find my package.  It was in one of those really flexible mail bags.

These particular items were ordered two days ago–I believe they were only stocked in Kentucky.  Previously, I ordered a computer cable in the morning, and it was delivered in the afternoon.  Having received items from Amazon from non-UPS or USPS sources, I became curious how they are doing this.  And, a little browsing did make it clear.  They have started an “Uber” for package delivery.  They call it Amazon Flex.    Here are what you can expect and need to work for them:

Why Amazon Flex?
– Flexible hours — Schedule ahead or pick up any available delivery block of time
– Great pay — Make $18/hr
– Available work — Delivery opportunities available 7 days a week

To get started you must be:
– 21 years old
– Have a car and a valid driver’s license
– Have an Android phone

I don’t see myself applying for this or any similar job soon.  (My phone is not an Android.)  But, it does give options to a variety of people who might not otherwise generate a reliable income.  Having watched both of the Amazon Flex deliveries come to my house,  I can safely say the individuals did not look like they gave up their business casual jobs just the other day.  Their dress indicated they had been building their casual wardrobe for possibly a number of years.

**********

Okay, I admit the three stories got worse as you read through them.  I probably could have organized them better or thrown in a couple of completely fictitious stories.  This blog has not graduated to heavy fiction yet.  With strong encouragement, dementia, or some other activity that either degrades mental capacity OR releases ideas that have been sent via extra-dimensional brain transfer, I hope to achieve a level of reading pleasure far exceeding what is presently produced by my unpredictable finger spasms.  If this goal goes unrealized, it is better to set a goal and fail to meet it then to never set a goal at all, right?

I heard the light tap on the door.  Since I was expecting a UPS delivery today, I was probably more obliging than normal.  I still peeked out the side window before opening it. The knocker was a safe 6-8 feet away from the door.  He did the normal “buttering” up before letting me know he and his “crew” would like to help me trim my trees up.  Not being much for butter, I asked him to “cut to the mustard.” We walked around the trees as he told me how he might beautify my yard should he and his basketball team (yes, there was 5 of them) get the opportunity to trim my trees.

As we walked into the backyard and the elm whose middle name is “shade”, I stressed to him the need to make sure he watched out for the existing plants.  He assured me he would .  Still reluctant to give me a price, he would choose a branch and say, “Yeah, we need to get that one off of the roof.” or “Your neighbor will be grateful if you take out that branch.”   As I neared impatience, I finally asked him again for the price.  After he provided it, I let him know I was considering it but would like to pay a little less.  As he hesitated to respond, I apparently had a wave of conscious overtake me.  I simply asked him, “Are you a God-fearing man?”  When he said “yes”, I told him to go ahead.

Was it the best trim my little trees have had?  Probably not.  Was I really impressed with his sales skill and his incredible knowledge of trees?  Not really.  I guess I was just pulling myself out of the equation and having his Christian confession be the decider….sorta.  Should he have said “yes” just to get the business, then maybe there is the chance he will feel a twinge of guilt.  I have used trade people in the past who claimed they were Christian on their website or yellow pages ad.  The work product did not give evidence of their commitment to fully using their God-given abilities.

If he said “no”, I still might have let him do the work.  I think I liked the quickness of his answer rather than the specific answer he gave.  Whether his answer was truthful or not, the rest of his basketball team heard his answer as well as I.  He is either a committed liar OR he was speaking from strong conviction. His team knows and a God who is much more discerning and knowing then I will hold his conscious accountable to the answer he provided me…..I am trusting Him to do so.