Hmmmm. . . . .

Just for grins I was looking at the posts for the end of September last year.
One of the reasons was I noticed there were some days I missed posting.
It's because I was busy.
A lot of the things I did post were one shot and go.

I can mention that the friend who had the motorcycle accident and his grandson are both doing well.
There are still some issues, but they are minor compared to what was going on at the time.

I can also mention that I don't miss driving back and forth to Redding a couple of times a week.
I do miss the time spent with GS.

I have some pictures to post from last weekend.
I think I may omit the ones from the Lions meeting, but there are some others worth showing.

They would probably already be up, but I have the newest version of Photoshop Elements.
It is nothing like the Photoshop Elements I had before [on the old Win98 unit that died].
I have to relearn it entirely.
A certain four letter expletive comes to mind.

I also notice that I seem to be missing a certain filter.

may not want it back

Oh dear. . .

It's after 8am and I haven't even started a post yet.

If you must know it is all the fault of the Sun.
It has been sleeping later and later each morning.
I typically use it as a reminder to wake up. . .   typically.

There are other mornings where something else wakens me, the cogs start meshing, and I am wandering through the house looking for something constructive to do.
Some mornings that can be as simple as letting the cat out.

I was up north over the weekend.
"Up north" is a relative term.
To most Californians I am already up north.
But those in my neighborhood can still drive 100 miles north on Interstate 5 and still be well inside California.
That's where I was.
The best part of the trip was Saturday morning, before the clouds rolled in.
The scenery was spectacular because Mt Shasta was blanketed with snow.
On the other hand, Lake Shasta looks kinda sad even though there is still a lot of water.
The nature of things is such that it's pretty ugly once the tops of some hills that are normally submerged start appearing.

No, nothing much happened up north.
A little Lions District business was conducted.

...and some fun

Not much time today, either

But I have more than 15 minutes.

There's been over 3 inches of rain this last week.
That may be it for awhile.
I was rained on late yesterday afternoon, retuning from Yreka.

The best parts about the rain is it has helped the firefighters battling the wildfires.

And. . .

The major geological feature in these parts, Mt Shasta, has a nice covering of white so it stands out again.

off again

Can I write a post in 15 minutes?

No!

maybe later...

 or Monday

I was gonna put this on F/B

I still might do it.

Yeah, I stole this from another blogger.

...not proud

Updated:

I did. . .  
That way the folks from f/b will click the link and help increase pageviews.
It's called pimpin' the blog.

sick, innit?

I won't tell anyone who sent this to me

The subject of Geezers arose in the comments section yesterday.
I'm not so sure that applies here.
But, it is a catchy tune.

Post by 95.5 the ROCK.

Maybe some criteria need to be set?

almost said we need to set

About time

Or, Finally!

An actual storm with some real precipitation.

nice change

Tradition v legacy

I don't often discuss thing about the military here. . .

. . .unless it's a sea story.

But today I'm gonna make an exception.
Now my experience is relatively limited.
I spent but a brief period actively serving in the military and that was with the Navy.
I served in ships.
(Yes, in is the proper term.
I was crew, not a passenger.)
But, as The Sarge says, I digress.
So I will limit my discussion to the Navy.
More specifically, I will limit it to Navy uniforms.

My first thought about Navy uniforms today is, WTF!!!
(Actually that's been my thought for a few years now, but a cartoon I saw brought it up again.)
It used to be a sailor had a sea bag with three sets of blues (one dress, two undress [no piping, okay?], four sets of whites (all undress, and if he wanted tropical they were an optional purchase), three sets of dungarees, and four white hats (aka dixie cups)
There were other things like socks, shoes, underwear, pea coat, work jacket, watch cap, ball cap, rain coat, etc., etc., much of which was never worn.
There was even a flat hat. . .  think Donald Duck. . .  I was issued sold (yes, we purchased these uniforms out of our initial clothing allowance and, no, we were not given any choices, except for size.).
The first think we were taught about said uniforms was how to properly fold them so they took up little space and did not wrinkle.
The answer is, inside out (except for the dungaree shirt and the tropical white shirt [which was optional]).
It all folded flat, almost square, and fit in the sea bag with room to spare.
There was room to spare because the dress blues didn't go in the sea bag.
It was what was worn whenever a sailor traveled on orders. . .  ALWAYS!

I didn't much think about today's Navy uniforms until a couple of years ago.
GS and I played hooky one Thanksgiving and took a cruise around Hawaii [yes, the entire state] with Cuz and Mrs. Cuz.
While in Honolulu we made an obligatory trip around Oahu and did the tour of the USS Arizona Memorial.

The first thing I notice about the sailors on the launch that took us out to the Memorial was they were dressed like Jarheads*.
I mean their uniforms were not Navy uniforms, except for maybe the trousers were navy blue.
The creases were in the wrong direction.
The blouse was khaki.
The hat. . .   WTF kind of hat was that!!!
A freakin' piss cutter.
When did Navy enlisted [below E-7] start wearing piss cutters?

But that's only part of my problem with the uniform.
The overall issue I have is it seems nobody dresses to travel any more.
I will agree that it seems silly for civilians to get dressed up to fly anywhere.
But what is the point of having a dress uniform for military personnel if they aren't going to wear it when traveling?
No, I don't mean they should wear dress uniforms an a C-130 headed for a combat zone.
I mean when on independent travel under orders.
They shouldn't be in fatigues.
It make them look like Hippies [remember them?].
Hippies used to buy their clothes, used, at the Army-Navy store.

Oh yeah we didn't exactly call them Hippies.
There was almost always a descriptive adjective in front of Hippies.
Don't get me wrong.
Some of my best friends were Hippies.
I also have friends who're Army, Air Force, Coast Guard, and even Marines.
Civilians were suspect.

This bit about digressing, it's an age thing.
Once we reach a certain age we want to make sure we write down everything we remember.

So what's with traveling in BDUs (the new acronym for fatigues, meaning battle dress uniform).
If you're gonna travel in it, call it what it is. . .   travel dress uniform (TDU).
Then dump the darn full dress uniforms with all the rules about placement of ribbons and badges.

While I am on the subject of BDUs.
What was wrong with the Navy enlisted dungarees?
Seriously, they were functional.
We were taught how to make life vests out of the darn things.
They were light weight [which wasn't necessarily a good thing in cooler climates].
They were visible.
Why does a sailor at sea need camouflage?
What if he, heaven forbid, goes overboard?

I know part of the problem is that many prisons now dress the prisoners in clothes that look almost exactly like the dungarees.
The Navy failed to copyright the uniform I guess.
That, and law enforcement in many places had such a low opinion of sailors that they arrested them on sight.

I know just what the issue is.
It has nothing to do with practicality.
It has nothing to do with progress.
It certainly has nothing to do with tradition.
(the only reason we were sold flat hats was because the Naval Supply System was overstocked with flat hats)
It is all about those folks with stars on their shoulderboards leaving a legacy.
Change for change's sake.

All I can say to that is, "With all due respect, Admiral, #^@& off!"

go do something useful. . .

   like figuring out how to

 bring 1200 MRAPs

 back from Afghanistan

*a quaint Navy term for U.S. Marines

Air Guitar (for realz)

So there I was*
GS and I were in Michigan in September of 2007, primarily to attend a Lions Clubs function in Grand Rapids.
We'd gone there early so we could visit her brothers, their families, and then friends who'd been fortunate enough not to move to California [their opinion].

I believe I may have mentioned her youngest brother is a professional musician?
He and several others were playing at the Hamlin Pub in Rochester Hills on this particular evening.
There weren't many empty seats and the waitress was being kept pretty busy.
GS and I had arrived early enough to grab a couple of stools at one of those four-top tables right in the middle of the room, halfway between the bar and the band.

not the actual table

Just for the record, I was drinking plain tonic with a twist of lime.
GS was enjoying her usual, Miller Lite.

Awhile after we'd arrived three other couple came in together and settled at a couch to out left and slightly closer to the bandstand.
Actually they didn't really settle.
They more like staked it out.
About the only time they sat was when the band took a break.
Otherwise they were taking up a lot of space.
Unfortunately that space was in the most direct route to the restrooms for anyone wish to use the restrooms [that would be everyone. . .  it's a bar for chrissakes].
The easiest path to the restrooms, with having to take a circuitous route either in front of the band or back around in front of the bar, was to walk directly between the frolicking patrons and the couch they were not using, a distance of about . . .maybe  . . .eight inches.

I should probably mention here that the folks were not only frolicking, but they had been somewhere else beforehand having adult beverages.
They were having a wonderful time yukking it up and playing their imaginary musical instruments.

So anyway GS needed to relieve some pressure.
As she attempted to make her way to the appointed facility she stepped behind the gent playing the electric air guitar just as he took a short step back.
That caused her to adjust her footing such that she tripped and turned her ankle.
That's when it got really interesting.

Picture a group of people who're having difficulty standing, without holding on to something, trying to assist someone who's just fallen and injured themselves.
Then picture the reaction of the injured party's husband.

Fortunately nobody else got hurt.
GS did get to the restroom.
It took several weeks before she could walk normally again.
Her brother had a can cane he loaned her.

Once we I realized the injury wasn't serious enough to require medical attention the telling of the story was such that she twisted her ankle tripping over the cord for an air guitar.

When we got back home again a friend who is fairly handy made her a cane her very own.

*What’s the difference between a fairy tale and a sea story?  A fairy tale starts with “Once upon a time” and a sea story starts with “So there I was”.  
(that previous line paraphrases another blogger's tagline)

Air Guitar

Planes.
No!
Warbirds.


Legends 2014 Trailer from chris g on Vimeo.

A shipmate emailed the link.
I found the embed code.

More on Air Guitar later.
If you can't wait, there's some here.

More about the Airshow here.

enjoy!

We're okay

It was a beautiful day.
It was a pretty emotional day.
Lots of hugs.
Some tears.
Plenty of memories.
The are pictures.
It's going to take some time to prepare them for posting.

We're celebrating one today

copyright 2014. StoryPeople. Brian Andreas

Total ripoff

I was over visiting the BP's blog.
There were are a couple of things I really liked.
So I stole them.

The world* will be descending on Anderson so there might be a slight lull in posts for a day or so.

he knows

*this may be an exaggeration

Odds 'n ends

Things are slowly coming together for the celebration of life this weekend.
It's mostly about the last minute stuff that can't be prepared too soon.
Those little things we don't want to delegate to others because they're kinda special to us.
Those things which bring up the good memories.

Then there's the cat.
Sebastian is his name.
I kinda liked Bullseye, but I didn't bring him home.

Even "Target" may be a good name.
Look at the markings.

It appears he prefers to sleep in my room.
As long as he behaves that will be just fine.
So far his favorite perch resting spot is on the headboard.
There is plenty of room and he can't fall off.
The only major difficulty we're having is getting him to sleep past about 5am.
Fortunately, for me, he has determined that PHG is his servant.
She's the one he wakes up to let him out.
Of course he want's her to hunt him down first, before actually letting him outside.
It will be interesting to see how this scenario plays out.

Blogger has made some changes to the interface again.
I wonder what the story is with tech folks, that they seem to think change for the sake of change is a good idea.
Maybe I shouldn't have said change.
What they did was move stuff.
That's just plain wrong.

According to my calculations [and some stuff I've read], tomorrow is International Talk Like a Pirate Day.
We will probably observe it just as we observe any other day. . .  except with more family around.

aaaaargh!

I have to do this, too

I mentioned in an earlier post that my brother in law had sung this at the celebration PHG attended in Michigan.



I had more pictures to use.
We were able to collaborate with some assistance from My Buddy, Nick*.
So now both brothers have been heard from.
*that's another story

New mousetrap

The other day PHG was frightened by a mouse in the garage.
To the point that she knocks before going out there now.
She wants to give it ample warning to hide so it won't scare her again.

Yeah. . .   I know, right?

Have you noticed how almost everyone other person says that?

"Yeah. . .   I know, right?"

My second favorite expression is,

"Alrightythen."

[yes, it is, too, one word]

Where were we?
So, last night there was a text exchange.

That was the end of the discussion.

This morning. . .

his name may be "Bullseye"

I'm thinking I might just name him after all of the cats back on the farm in Turlock*
"Mus!"
That's Swedish.
Those grandparents were old country Swedes and named every cat Mus.
Maybe we'll call him Mousetrap.
In Swedish that's råttfälla.

Do ya think I was gamed?

we'll keep you posted

*It was actually closer to Hughson, but back then there wasn't much more than a railroad crossing in Hughson.

Crapcrapcrap ii

More on the Weed* destruction here.

*the town was named after Abner Weed, okay?

Crapcrapcrap

So...
This morning the air was filled with smoke from fires down south.
Then, the wind turned around and blew in with a vengeance from the north.
At about 2:15 or so a new fire broke out in the town of Weed.
Here is a link to the local report.

More about Saturday

I had all but forgotten that last week was Skunk Week.
It didn't start that way.
It developed slowly.

Saturday's golf tournament reminded me.
Twice.

No.
There was only one skunk.
But the tournament was at a nine hole course.
So we played each hole twice, playing from two different sets of tees.

Nobody actually saw the skunk, or encountered it physically.
But all but the most olfactorily challenged had to be aware of its presence somewhere between the third and fourth [or 12th and 13th] holes.
(I'm really sorry I didn't have my camera so I could get pictures of the railroad trestle that parallels these two holes.
Video might even have been better because then you could hear the sounds that accompany the freight trains using the trestle.)

So, yeah, the week started and ended with skunk stories.

mine's just a little late

Yesterday

It must be some kind of milestone?

That's a pretty impressive number.
(nothin' like 8,777 pageviews on one day, though)

I thought about fixing the title to yesterday's blog post. . .

. . .for about ten seconds.

I played in a scratch and scramble golf tournament.
It was the first time in four years I'd even picked up a club.
My game needs a lot of work.
On the other hand I only lost two balls.
I can proudly claim I carried my bag for the entire 18 holes.
My body says, "Get a freakin' cart next time!"
My head tells me to get someone else to play the back nine.

Finally, I went to a friend' 90th birthday party.

it is what it is

Sing of the times

at the corner of South St at Freeman Street

PHG pointed this out when we went to the florist to order the flowers for GS's celebration.

Normal Friday

Just like any other day this week. . .

. . .just later

Oops!
Missed the high point

got nothin' for tomorrow, either

September 11

What else is there to say?

I was just gonna email this

Oh... okay, I did already email it to some folks.

Then I thought. . .

What are you going to post on the blog today?

YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE A "DOG PERSON" TO TRULY APPRECIATE THIS STORY

Stay

I pulled into the crowded parking lot at the local shopping center and rolled down the car windows to make sure my Labrador Retriever Pup had fresh air.

She was stretched full-out on the back seat and I wanted to impress upon her that she must remain there.

I walked to the curb backward, pointing my finger at the car and saying emphatically,

"Now you stay. Do you hear me?"

"Stay! Stay!"

The driver of a nearby car, a pretty young blonde, gave me a strange look and said

"Why don't you just put it in 'Park'?"

maybe I'll get a puppy

Hah! I almost forgot

If it was still a holiday I wouldn't.

forget, that is

Fussin' with the camera

This is what it kinda looked like when the Moon rose last night   . . .except for the Moon itself, that is.

Somehow the camera wants the Moon to be all bright and shiny.

This is what the Moon really looked like.

We had to fool the camera.
The camera still want's the Moon to be brighter than anything else.

So I was reading this book...

This book.

it depends upon what your definition of absurd is

I just got it because it was just released.
It's a fun read.
Mostly it is brief items.
They only take a few minutes to read   . . .and digest.

The following question really caught my attention,

. . .particularly after seeing this bit at the bottom of the page.

What's that?
Yep!



That's what it says.

this is the actual continuation from the previous photo

The entire population of the World in Rhode Island.

Imagine.
Woodstock on steroids.
This many people at the Old AF Sarge's place.
His Missus Herself would be totally pissed because her garden would get really messed up.
(I'd post some pictures of the garden, but posting other people's pics can be a touchy subject)

Anyhow, just the image in my mind of a huge ginormous [even that doesn't conger up anything big enough] crowd leaping into the air on the count of three  . . .well, think about it.

I won't spoil the tale because one of you might want to read the book.
If you come by my place, I might let you read my copy.
If the author comes by, I might let him autograph my copy.

BYOB

Just sharing

The following arrived in my inbox yesterday.
As it says, it's been around before.
I don't think it ever gets old.
But I won't inflict it upon folks via email.
Feel free to copy and paste it   . . .or even post the link.



This has been around before, but it’s a great read and a good reminder!



Begin forwarded message:

Think harder about choices...  >

Two Choices

What would you do?....you make the choice. Don't look for a punch line, there isn't one. Read it anyway.. My question is: Would you have made the same choice?

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves children with learning disabilities, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question:

'When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does, is done with perfection.

Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do.

Where is the natural order of things in my son?'

The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. 'I believe that when a child like Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.'

Then he told the following story:

Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?' I knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

I approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, 'We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.'

Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. I watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart. The boys saw my joy at my son being accepted.

In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three.

In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands.

In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again.

Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.

At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game?

Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact.

The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed..

The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay.

As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.

The game would now be over.

The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman.

Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.

Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates.

Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, 'Shay, run to first!

Run to first!'

Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base.

He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to second!'

Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the ba se.

By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball . The smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team.

He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head.

Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.

All were screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay'

Shay reached third base because the opposing shor tstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third!

Shay, run to third!'

As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home! Run home!'

Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team


'That day', said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, 'the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world'.




Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making me so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!





AND NOW A LITTLE FOOT NOTE TO THIS STORY:

We all send thousands of jokes through the e-mail without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages about life choices, people hesitate.

The crude, vulgar, and often obscene pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion about decency is too often suppressed in our schools and workplaces.

If you're thinking about forwarding this message, chances are that you're probably sorting out the people in your address book who aren't the 'appropriate' ones to receive this type of message Well, the person who sent you this believes that we all can make a difference

We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the 'natural order of things.'

So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice:

Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up those opportunities and leave the world a little bit colder in the process?




A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats it's least fortunate amongst them.




You now have two choices:



1. Delete

2. Forward

may your day, be a Shay Day

Only when I'm driving

oh yeah!

Normal Friday

Yeah. . .   right!
I can never seem to remember we here at WHTPFIHC* are supposed to have this continuing recurring theme on Fridays.
That comes from having brain cells that won't communicate with each other.

. . .and a short attention span

Besides. . .
. . .around here nothing's normal.
Y'all know how I feel about the word normal?

"it shouldn't be used when routinely, usually, regularly, commonly, or average will suffice"

Normal Friday means I had absolutely no idea where this post was going when I started.
Then I read a couple of posts by another blogger.
I will probably read more posts by him, too.
It's interesting that most of the other bloggers I read and follow have a better formal education than I.
They a more used to fully explaining how they arrive at conclusions.
On the other hand, I am apt to give the shorthand version because I am used to explaining myself in person.
I learned early on that if you have an audience, you have to keep them engaged.
You must make your point as quickly as possible.
Then you attempt to get them to participate.
Or. . .
If you're giving a speech:

Tell them what you're going to tell them.
Then tell them.
Then tell them what you told them.

And do it quickly. . . before you lose them.

This isn't a speech

So, where was I going?
The blogger's posts related to education, not to the system (which may be outdated) as much as to what's not learned.
One post had to do with learning simple concepts.
The example was a video where the question was asked, "How far would you travel in an hour if you were going 80 miles an hour?"
I think the video is meant to be funny.
If it was the only video on the exact same topic, maybe it would be funny.
I think I have a pretty good sense of humor.
I'm not laughing.
The second instance was in a reply to a comment wherein the commenter stated,

"It really is fascinating to see how far Harvard has fallen from what it started as. It survived pretty much intact until World War II when it suddenly, unexpectedly, started to became a disease on the body politic. I wonder what Red dawn caused that surrender of a bastion of the West."

 The first thought that popped into my head was that the current generations at that institution, both students and teachers have failed to grasp the legacy.
Legacy is not something learned in a classroom.
It sure isn't obvious on the Internet.
It comes from personal contact, one generation to the next.
Somewhere in recent history the legacy of service that Harvard   . . .and a number of other institutions of higher learning  . . .got lost because those performing service forgot that it was for the benefit of others and not for the benefit of their careers.
There is no longer any sacrifice associated with service, except in the military.

I hold out little hope that the situation will improve much in the near future as long as the attitude is, What's in it for me?

how about you might like yourself a little more, arm hole

*read the blog title again (and no, my tongue was nowhere near my cheek while I wrote this)

You gotta read this story

I believe the part about the lab and the rice.
I having issues with the travel time.
But this tale by the Chubby Chatterbox is worth reading.

PHG is home.
I hesitate to say that she has hardly stopped talking since she arrived.
I don't mind.

On another note. . .  we couldn't see the sky around here yesterday morning.
The atmospheric condition were such that smoke from the wildfires burning north of here, near the Oregon border had settled in.
Not only did it irritate the eyes, but it stunk up the joint, too.
Fortunately, by the time we were back from Sacramento it had cleared up nicely.

the rest is just backfill

An oversight

PHG wrote and recited a poem about her Mom.
It was alluded to in the comments on another post.
I passed it along to some others in an email.
The least I can do is post it for all to see.

She also found this and posted it on f/b.

I'm fairly certain I would have posted it if I'd found it first.

PHG returns from Michigan this afternoon.
I will pick her up at the airport after I take the Honda* to a carwash.

did laundry last night

*I'm thinking Misty doesn't quite cut it as a name for the car
Bugcrusher would work, though

Oops . . .I'm late

PHG is away until tomorrow.
She's visiting friends and family while attending a celebration of life for her mother.
Her uncle, my younger brother in law, and his wife hosted an afternoon of music and reminiscence on Sunday.
The only thing missing from the event is video.
(In truth there are cell phone videos, but the images aren't that great and the sound's even worse)

Anyhow, the hosting brother in law is an accomplished musician. . .  has been for as long as I've known him.
(I guess I should mention that his older brother is also an accomplished musician, too, as are all of the male offspring)
So music is a big part of any family gathering.
(I mean music in the sense of drum kits, keyboards, amps, pre-amps, and multiple stringed instruments for each musician.)
There's no lack of talent.
The only thing missing is recording equipment.

What I am getting around to here is that GS's younger brother played (and sang) this for PHG.

On another note. . .
I managed to sleep later this morning.
The Sun was actually up when I awoke.

7:45

Unh!

Maybe it's my phone?

I took the Mustang over to my friend's for him to replace the cam sensor, fuel filter,and to work on the driver's side window.
I brought the bike along so I could ride home.

I used the phone app to log the ride.
The app stole almost a mile from me.

This is the actual route I took.

please note the distance ...and that it's uphill all the way

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is how the app mapped it.

The degree of difficulty from mile 1 to mile 2 is nigh on impossible.

The fun part about this ride was, as I was riding past the handy radar sign that posts the speed drivers are traveling, it showed me at 11mph.

we cruisin'

Yep again

I've been up for an hour.

This is the first thing I noticed.

It was still in the 80s at 1am.

My oldest kid sister in San Jose posted this on f/b.

 

watch #38, Mike Morse

It gives a whole new meaning to "Selfie."