Confusion reigns . . . sometimes

. . . and now it's Tuesday.

It took some adjustment, last week, to remember that Wednesday was not Monday.

I should explain, huh?

MB and I flew back to the Midwest the previous week so we could attend the last Grandparents Day for the youngest grandchild back there.
Whilst we were there we also attended a number of other events, including volleyball and soccer games.
We also saw the weather change dramatically for the second year in a row.

I won't go negative here and complain about the issues we had with rental vehicles because it was about the vehicles and not the company that rented the vehicle to us.

Anyway, somehow my mind, after spending most of the day Tuesday flying some 3100 miles to get home.
Yeah, Wednesday felt like a Monday.

pretty sure today's Tuesday

UNtimely

  really messes up the weekend

Kid's stuff

MB and I were away for the weekend.
I mean really away.
She was at Lake Tahoe.

That reminds me.
The picture of the spiral over Coit Tower I posted on Thursday is one she took with her smart phone.

But I digress.

Away as in away from one another.
Somewhere around 250 - 260 miles away.
In two different states.

Coincidentally, we departed within 15 minutes of each other.
We returned home within five minutes of each other.
Go figure.

It was about then I heard an interesting question asked by one of the grandkids of another.

"Where are the tan pawns?"

You have to listen carefully, lest you miss hear things.

Tan Pawns WBAGNFARB

Dear Walmart

Really!
You couldn't find a way to pack all of those little things my mother in law ordered into one box?
I checked.
All of them would have fit into the second largest of the six boxes you used to ship them.
All of them came from the same location.
You really could have waited and sent them in one box on the same day instead of six separate shipments over four days.
Oh, and the neighbor would have been much happier had you printed the correct street number.
She's only just started waving to us again.
There isn't enough room in the recycling bin this week for all of the detritus from the deliveries, so it's going to be two weeks before we can forget this inundation of, literally, useless paper, plastic, and cardboard.
At least it is recyclable.
Now if I could only get back the time spent breaking it down to fit in the bin.

Another thing I don't understand is why you'll ship something to somebody's community, then have someone take it to the post office and mail it.
Why not just put it in the mail to begin with?

Please, don't bother to respond.
I don't like your company anyway and nothing you say can make me change my mind.

phlbbbbt

What?

Some time ago [years] I said I was gonna clean up the clutter around here.
Y'all that've been around awhile will recognized how far I have gotten.
It won't be happening any time soon.
MB and I are still in the throes [that word is used advisedly   . . . look it up] of combining, collating, and culling . . .

. . . plus, there's still more to be transported from the old homestead . . .

. . . once we make more space here.

Maybe then there will be time to write more interesting blog posts?

but, I doubt it

August 20

All summer there was talk, or texts, or FF comments about the four of us getting together in a central location for dinner.
We've known one another for a long time and don't see each other often enough.
There are others in the goup group, but six of us became particularly close.
Two of the six left us involuntarily two year ago.

So finally it was agreed to meet in Vacaville at the Red Robin.
MNBF would have the least distance to travel, but no matter where we went someone was going to be that lucky.

We enjoyed out our meal.
But the company of friends was really what it was all about.
We were there for at least three four hours and the wait staff left us alone except to ask if we wanted refills.

What do you get when you have 2 PDGs and
2 PFLs (past first ladies) together?
Laughs, love, and wonderful memories being shared
Love you guys!

The words in the caption aren't mine.
They're from the lady on the left in the picture.


Afterward there were hugs and some innocent, platonic "I love you" said.
We all drove out our 
 separate ways.

The next morning as I wrote the usual texts to those I text on a daily basis, I innocently added a new name.
I don't know why.
It changed my life.

(to be continued)

Monday update

It is going to be brief.
I was away all weekend and now Sebastian is demanding a full share of attention this morning.
. . . as in he won't let me alone.

Besides, I have a full schedule through tomorrow, doing whatever it is I do.
Maybe Wednesday there'll be a Monday update.

Happy Thanksgiving to Canada!!!

there's something in the air

Metaphor for emotions

Nothing much new from the hospital...
...but I do have an observation.

Maybe it's more of an inquiry.

Does anyone remember what a rheostat is?
(that's not my question)

It's what we used to control the volume on our superhetrodyne receivers.
(yeah. . .    radios)

Anyhow, many of those volume controls are actually numbered.

source

Sometimes they are accompanied by another control.

source

You may understand where I'm going with this?

People!
There are those who control their emotions much like the numbered knob above controls volume, very seldom ever reaching the highest output.
Sometimes they can be quite frustrating because they may give the impression they don't understand the severity of a situation.
(don't bet on it)

Then there are those who set the volume control at ten and just turn emotions on and off.
They're most likely the ones who believe in the squeaky wheels program.

That's pretty reckless.
They will get the oil.
Unfortunately, they sometimes find later that graphite would've been a far superior solution, but by insisting on immediate action other options were not explored and became moot.

It has been observed that those of the on/off variety are also usually the center of the Universe.

The only time it may be appropriate is when watching a favorite team at a sporting event.
(notice I didn't say in the living room)

Recent [and not so recent] events have called the above to my attention.
I am a firm believer in holding something in reserve [except when it comes to the fuel tank in my car
that's created an incident or two or more where the on/off variety has reared it's ugly head].

stop digging here

Amost better'n music

Fun stuff, huh?
. . .and it beats the crap out of writing original posts.

getting ready for the vacation

Bologna

If you have looked at the reading list page, you'd see I have added another book to the list.
I finally finished The Seventh Child while we were at Maui, staying here.

Just one building in an entire complex at a huge resort.

The conclusion left me wanting a lot more. . .   particularly since it took me longer than usual to read it.
The suspense kept building and my interest was held fast, but at the end I'd felt like I must've missed something.
That's about as close to a book report as you will get from me.
(I will remind you that Atlas Shrugged was a real dog to read.
This wasn't.
It just disappointed at the end.)

there're more pictures

The other day I posted a map based on data regarding eating habits preferences with respect tp restaurants in the various states.
I am only guessing, but my thoughts are there was only one person collecting the data and they were on some kind of deadline.

Does anyone else think maybe some of the information on that map is based on old episodes of Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives, aka Triple D?

Those not based on that were probably selected by a blindfolded monkey throwing darts at a World map.

Just about everything I want to do this week has been on hold.
I received a summons for Jury Duty.
I have to keep checking back until my group is released.

This is the third time in the last year I've been 'selected.'
I lost count of how many times I have been summoned.
I have actually been empaneled three times and seen one entire trial.

My former employer suggested I was volunteering for Jury Duty to get out of work.
I asked him if he'd ever been summoned or served on a jury.
He said, "No!"
I told him he should volunteer, so he'd know how ridiculous his suggestion was.

I saved the last summons from four months ago.
They have my name just slightly different from the current summons.
So. . .   obviously I am in the database more than once.
I could call them and be left on hold, but I decided to report and confront them in person with both summonses.
That will remove the opportunity for them to deny.
Of course, if I don't actually have to report that opportunity will be moot.

What's most irksome, to me, is there are any number of folks who, in all the time I have known them, have never been summoned.

PHG has a job!
It's part time, 25 hours a week.
That's all I can say right now.
But she's amped.

This is all wrong so not right. . .

I've been to Ceres.
It looks nothing like that.

Okay. . .   so as long as we're screwing around.
Go see this.
It has a warning.
Ignore it. . .   unless you're in school.

I have some serious posts rampaging around in my skull.
Whenever I sort them out they'll show up here.
Meanwhile I'm thinking about that vacation coming up.

Oh, yeah. . .   and there's a conference this weekend starting at 2:00pm Friday. . . 

or whenever I

 get off Jury Duty

note: since it is fairly obvious, I have decided I will no longer actually give the name to untitled posts. . . 
. . .in fact I may stop titling posts altogether or maybe not

Confusion reigns

Really?

Yeah, but I'm not sure who's confused.
So I guess that means I'm the one?

Explain   . . .please.

Yesterday was Veterans Day, right?
Once upon a time* it was called Armistice Day.
Others call it Remembrance Day.
Anyhow, it's a holiday.
It has been relegated to the second tier of holidays.
That means it doesn't get the fanfare the big ones** get.
In fact, not so long ago, it was almost ignored by many folks [unless they had a paid day off].
Now, it gets more recognition.

That's where I'm confused.
I've always thought it was a day to recognize and thank those who've served in the military, to recognize that they voluntarily [and in some cases involuntarily] gave over a part of their lives to protect our freedom.
Yet, I saw a lot of speech makers talking about those who made the ultimate sacrifice.
I thought that's what we observe on Memorial Day?
(I have another whole rant about how Memorial Day's been hijacked for other purposes [like three day political junkets prior to June elections weekends].)

I guess what I want to know is do I say, "Thank you," or, "I remember?"
Maybe someone should spell it out and explain it to those in charge so they don't keep fussing around with those days that commemorate something special.

Actually I do both, and not just on holidays.

'nuff said

*No, not a fairy tale, but "There I was. . ." doesn't fit well.
**New Years, Memorial Day, Independence Day, Labor Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.

Because that's just how it is

In the final analysis, the questions of why bad things happen to good people transmutes itself into some very different questions, no longer asking why something happened, but asking how we will respond, what we intend to do now that it has happened.

~ Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

Yesterday...

...I knew what I was going to post today.

It was a kind of bittersweet day and I will write a post...

...just not now.

...later, probably tomorrow [but there's no guarantee].

I was gone all day, to Sacramento.

I know I'm getting way behind with stuff I want to post.
But the good news is I am able to see some of the part of the top of my desk.

I sat down at the computer at 7:30 this morning and tried to catch up with the latest.
I saw that the Cranky Old Man posted a mission statement.
That immediately became my focus for today.
Well, that and the fact that the frickin' Intertubes, or my browser, or the PC are acting like they're severely constipated.
Any I need to clear the decks to write what I thought I was going to post today.
If you look back up to the top of the page... under the title... you will find the mission statement for this blog.
If you are able to read between the lines, you will also understand how important I think having a written mission statement is.
I have seen Suldog's mission statement almost every time he posts.
I can quote it almost verbatim [meaning I don't have to go look]:

"Soon, with more better stuff."

me, too

This is realy h_ _ _ r!

see what that word (hodor) can mean?

About the three ring circus

Go ahead and play yesterday's music again.

I have a theory about about businesses who operate in the manner of some so-called service companies such as those of whom I was discussing yesterday.

They are such that they have many of the regular clientele locked in to their system.
The clients have no choice.
The put the front line lowest level employees up as the first contact for those clients.
Said employees bear the brunt of the client's dissatisfaction and unhappiness.

It is part of their plan.
They use this scheme to cull all but the most compliant workers from the workforce.
It makes it possible for them to keep the brighter individuals from becoming tenured employees and also allows a potentially lower pay scales.

In other words the lack of communication on the part of the different departments is planned incompetence.
The fact that none of the employees are empowered to act without the complicity of others is planned incompetence.
The fact that everything must be signed off by an absentee before being acted upon is planned incompetence.
The government has operated this way for years.
I think they've learned it from European governments.
The private sector in this country is finally catching up.
I'm not just talking about big government, either.
I think maybe this started out at the local level and worked it's way up.
I have a story about a minor home improvement project whose inspections, after more than two years, may still not be resolved, all through the incompetence of one inspector, who never worked a day of construction in his life . . .but he knows the friggin' code.

this could go on for weeks

It's a freakin' three ring circus (a Monday update)

Play this video while you are reading the following.

Maybe you've noticed the dearth of Monday Updates here?
That's primarily because there hasn't been much to update.
I'll bring you up to speed about what's been going on recently [since the end of February].
You might remember GS went down to Stanford for a consultation and at that point we determined it was time to find a new oncologist to treat her here.
That took just a little longer than anyone thought it should because even when you find one there are scheduling issues ...and paperwork.


Since visiting Stanford ...and seeing a different doc from the first one down there ...GS has had another CT/Pet scan [maybe I told you?].
The results were not what anyone would call good news.

...or bad news.

Interpretation is best left to the professionals.

The new doc, who we just saw again for the second time yesterday, is starting off with an intramuscular injection.
Both he (the new doc) and the Stanford doc came up with this independent of each other.
We will see how this goes.
Treatment will start whenever the insurance approves [big sigh!].

Both docs, along with the last doc at the hospital, also were quite concerned about the constant diarrhea.
The main concern has to do with dehydration.
So each of them suggested a mild narcotic drug (tincture of Opium) to help control it (along with the anti-diarrhea medicines already prescribed).
What a joy-ride obtaining that medication is.
Fortunately for GS there was an alternative to use in the meantime.

Morphine is not just a pain med.
One of the side effects is constipation.
It isn't easy to get either... but we had some that was unexpired from after the aneurism repair [who remembers that?] last year in 2012.
The doc at Stanford prescribed the opium.
But the local chain store pharmacy wouldn't accept the form he used.
The pharmacist told me he would accept a fax.
After going back to the pharmacy twice, only to be told they hadn't received the fax ...having been told twice by Stanford they had sent and re-sent... I called a third time.
I was told then that they didn't handle tincture of opium.
that was about a week of wasted time.

Another week passed and we had the first appointment with the new oncologist in Redding... after a slight comedy of errors I may or may not have told you about.
(that had to do with lost paperwork)
There is enough morphine to carry until we see him for the first time.

GS, PHG, and I meet him and like that he is really caring.
We have a little difficulty understanding what he is saying sometimes.
We weren't exactly happy with what we did hear.
Our decision to change docs was reinforced.
He'd been able to get the results of the CT/Pet scan.
There's been no improvement, which is kinda what we already knew from the colonoscopies.
He seemed to believe the cancer has progressed.

Anyhow, he wrote a new scrip for the opium tincture, also an order for lab work [they have their own lab in house because they're affiliated with the hospital], arranged for another appointment in about three weeks [that appointment was yesterday], and promptly left on paternity leave.
Our return visit was to be with an associate known as Dr. O.
I took the scrip, which was written on the proper form, and mailed it to the mail order pharmacy designated by our insurance carrier.
That was on a Wednesday.
By the following Monday there was no acknowledgement.
Finally, on Friday, at 5:30 in the afternoon, nine days later, there was one of those automated calls that there was an "issue with a prescription".
Really?
A machine makes a call with a general statement that there is an "issue."
On a Friday.
After office hours.
I did call the mail order folks back.
I was shuffled among three different departments before anyone even knew what I was talking about.
Then they had to determine whether it was my prescription or GS prescription.
After about a half hour or so it was determined that the dr. is required to obtain prior authorization before they could fill the prescription.
A notice had been mailed to his office.
We spent the weekend wondering what was going on.
Monday morning another automated phone call was received.
The prescription was denied.
I called again.
I was jerked ping-ponged around for another lengthy period of time.
Because the dr. had not responded in a timely manner the prescription could not be filled.
So told them how he was on paternity leave.
They suggested I find another doc to write the prescription.
I made a suggestion about what they could do with their suggestion and told them to mail the scrip back because I could take it somewhere to get it filled.
(I might even have used the word f***wads to describe what I thought of the brilliant individuals who operate the company.
I have an inkling there may be a number of former government bureaucrats involve.)
Of course the person I was asking to mail the scrip back was not directly involved in the process of mailing it back.
That was a different department.
That different department would have to get it back from whatever department had determined the prescription could not be filled.
Evidently none of these folks are allowed to talk to one another because they have to send some kind of form to accomplish any task.
Clients are allowed to talk to all of them, but that accomplishes nothing other than confusing and irritating the client.
I was told it would take a week to ten days for the scrip to be returned.
Much of the vocabulary I learned to use on a regular basis in the Navy was coming back to me.
Fortunately I was able to suppress it ...somewhat.

I called the Doc's office and left a message on his assistant's voice mail.
I called the Doc's office again and left a message on his assistant's voice mail.
I called the main number at the Doc's office and explained the situation.
She strongly suggested I tell the voice mail the exact same thing and offered to transfer.
I accepted the offer and was put on hold.
Finally I hung up [hanged up?] and called the Doc's office and left a message on his assistant's voice mail.
She called me back and I explained the situation further.
It was determined we could refill the scrip for morphine, but I would have to wait until the following morning to pick it up because the office was now closed.

The next morning I drove to Redding, picked up the scrip for morphine, did the weekly shopping at TJ's, Costco, the bagel shop, and then headed back to the chain store pharmacy to fill the prescription.
I dropped it off and was asked how soon it was wanted.
I said as soon as possible.
The clerk told me it would be about twenty minutes.
I said that would be fine, I still had some groceries to purchase at the supermarket.
About 40 minutes later I returned to find a line waiting for prescriptions.
I waited.
Finally my turn came and I was told the prescription wasn't ready because they had not yet confirmed it with the dr's office.
Huh?
I called the Doc's office and left a message on his assistant's voice mail.
I made it clear why I was calling.
I came home.
About an hour later I got a call from a friend who clerks in the pharmacy.
The prescription was ready.

I'm really glad these are not life-saving medications.

The original opium scrip finally arrived back in our hands on Thursday afternoon.
The chain drugstore is out of the mix now, too.
I can't decide if they are confused about what their function is or just plain incompetent.
It wasn't always this way with them... only since they started merging with one another.
We have a local pharmacy chain that does everything the big drugstores do except they only purvey pharmaceuticals [what a concept!].
I can't remember why we haven't been going there all along.
It turns out they are also on the insurance companies preferred list.
They couldn't fill it immediately because they don't keep opium tincture laying around, but they would have it by Monday [yesterday] by noon.

Is seven weeks to get a prescription filled too long?
(that's a rhetorical question meant to point out that some folks have no idea what service is)

Yesterday was also our second appointment at the new Doc's.
We didn't get to meet Dr O afterall.
GS doc was back from leave.
He has a new healthy baby daughter and all is well in that department.
That was when he informed us of the intramuscular drug treatment.
He also urged GS to get more protein and increase her albumin intake (eggs).

We left feeling much better about things than we had the first time we saw him.

maybe all posts should have theme music

Wherein there are more questions ...Monday update

Thursday was not a picnic.

The drive south wasn't so bad ...except for on short distance.

We'd allowed plenty of time and I even sandbagged because we were ahead of schedule.

We still arrived at Stanford more than a half hour ahead of schedule.

I used valet parking.

The valets are so efficient that I never had an opportunity to check if I had everything I wanted to take into the clinic.

It was my fault for letting them rush me [if only they were so speedy retrieving vehicles].

We made our way to the clinic and checked in.

Because we were early, we found ourselves in the waiting room for about 20 minutes.

It was pretty much routine after that, at least until they asked for the list of medications.

It was in the car.

Plan B involved a photograph of the list.

There just happened to be one on PHG's cellphone.

A nurse weighed GS, took vitals, and left us a page on which to write the medications.

After awhile the NP (Nurse Practioner) we had seen the first time we visited Stanford came in to examine GS.

She had all of the notes from the original visit and asked a number of questions regarding what has happened since that time.

We noted that she is pregnant.

I wonder if maybe GS has that effect on NPs (the NP in Redding she was seeing also got pregnant after the first visit).

She examined GS and found nothing in particular of any concern.

She said the Doctor would be in shortly.

It took longer than we expected.

But he did arrive.

He'd been fully briefed.. or he'd done some homework.

I guess I should mention we had not seen this Doc before.

He asked a bunch more questions... some of which GS, PHG, or I could answer...

...and he offered a bunch of information.

PHG had a number of questions she was going to ask, but he presented answers before she had a chance.

He has order a CT scan and a Pet Scan... and is frustrated there are no others with which to compare them.

He is recommending an IV treatment with an “anti-hormonal” drug.
He also had prescribed a different drug to control the diarrhea.

The best part is he is optimistic.

Some of the questions he had left us with some questions of our own.
As opposed to the first visit,  we know a lot more and we know not to set expectations too high.
(Yes, I know I generally frown upon having expectations.
I also know I am also susceptible to having them, anyway)

We finished up at the clinic just in time to greet the 5:00 PM rush hour.

We arrived at the approaches to the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge in time to find traffic at a standstill.

Once on the bridge it began to actually move at more than a crawl and traffic was extremely heavy until we reached the interchange where we would actually start northbound [some 90 miles from Stanford] just under three hours after setting out.

All in all we were away from home for 13 hours, of which approximately nine were driving time.

I remembered a number of words I have tried to suppress, but managed to leave them unsaid.

Besides, PHG growled enough for all of us.
Don't get on her bad side.

Friday I went to the pharmacy to fill the prescription.
They would accept the form on which he wrote it.
They did say the will accept an e-fax [whatever that is] prescription.
So I came home and called the clinic.
The nurse said she handle it and the pharmacy should have it within the hour.
That was at 4:00 PM.
At 8:00 PM I went back.
The pharmacy says they haven't received it.
On Sunday afternoon at 4:30 they still make the same claim.
Somebody is going to hear from me first thing tomorrow.

there's some steam building

Oh Yeah

Happy St Patrick's Day

I hate it when that happens

Sometimes a post on another blog will remind me of something in my past.
Most of the time I will remember that I was reminded, but not remember of what I was reminded.
That's not the case here.
I remember what.
I don't remember who reminded me.

The subject was cliques.
Or maybe it was about belonging to cliques.
Or maybe it was non-cliques that it was about.
Anyhow, that's only partly relevant to this.

It's about high school.
More specifically it's about Menlo-Atherton High School in Atherton, California.
It may have been [and might still be] important for the school to be in Atherton.
That's because, if the school was in Menlo Park, a good number of the residents of Atherton would probably have sent their kids to private schools... many did, anyway.

There was a social studies teacher who was doing post-graduate work at Stanford (officially the Leland Stanford Junior University [I know what junior colleges are. What are junior universities?]) also known as The Farm.
I have idea what his area of interest specifically was.
But the study took several years (9th to 12th grades) and was pretty comprehensive.
My class was the subject of this study.
It may have been limited to cliques.
Then again the clique information may have been what we learned about.
That class started out with something over 800 students.
We do not qualify as baby boomers [we're too old].
During the sophomore year (10th grade) there was a lot of shifting around of students in the district because two new high schools opened.
Many were transferred to the two new schools.
Others transferred in from still another school.
There were now less than 700 students in the class.

The kids at M-A came primarily from two elementary school districts.
There were other feeder districts but the numbers were much less consequential.

That's the background information.

The teacher passed out questionnaires to the class members... at least to those who were attending college prep classes.
Answering the questions was voluntary.
I'm pretty sure most did.
(Don't ask me what the questions were.
I don't remember.)

Sometime during out Senior year (12th grade) we found out about the makeup of our class.
There were something like 53 cliques.
They were subgroups of two main cliques.
There were also those who did not fit into any of the subgroups or the main cliques.
The surveying of the questionnaires determined the main cliques were only slightly connected to the elementary school districts.
They were more closely related to two persons.
For want of a better term I will call them princesses.
They were, of course, girls.
They also were cute ...even, in the eyes of a teenage boy, beautiful [or hot].
One group was social.
The other was service.
I mean that in the context of high school.
The social bunch were the ones who came up with ideas for dances, mixers, and the like.
They decided what was needed... what were the good ideas.
If it was fun, it was a good idea.
The service bunch were actually put on those events, as well as put out the yearbook, published the school newspaper, and anything else that required organization.

The subgroups could be pretty much put under one or the other of the two main groups.
About the only crossover subgroup was the jocks.
Those subgroups, except for the jocks, could also be divided up by whatever elementary school they attended.

Then there was a small group of those where were undefined by any clique.
Ironically, most of those in that group hung around together.
Some could have been called misfits.
One or, maybe, two really were misfits.
I was one of that group.
I'm pretty sure you could call us a non-clique clique, whatever that is. [eye wink thing here]
Most of us joined a branch of the service soon after graduation.
I have no idea where they are today.
I miss a couple of them.
Their choice was to drop out.

I'd post a picture of my car from back then...

...but I didn't even have my license, let alone a car.

Mom drove...

I ducked

Don't get me wrong.
I like to hear other folks ideas, suggestions, opinions.
They help keep the cogs in the mind turning.
Sometimes they even get the cogs to work together.

What gets my dander up is when somebody fails to understand their point of view has only been sought for the purposes of evaluation or comparison and they go into a full blown sales pitch.
You know what I mean... the nickel tour's become the two week cruise... and their favorite thing now has to be my favorite thing because they say so.

Of course they weren't listening beyond waiting for a key word.
Then they could jump in and expound on their knowledge, however limited it may be.

One of my favorite examples of such a conversation relates to visiting Washington, DC.
I was talking to an acquaintance about it.
My experience had been entirely different that theirs.
I was a 14 year old with a large group and it was 57 years ago.
They were traveling with family (two adults and a child) about five years ago.
I said something about visiting the Capital, White House, and the Smithsonian.
Then they went on about the wonderful car they rented.

On another occasion I was volunteering at a Lions Club emergency distribution center.
We were preparing boxes of non-perishable foods for folks who'd evacuated because of a wildfire.
Another volunteer began a conversation on how important it is to have fire sprinklers in the home.
He particularly wanted to pass along information to the folks we were assisting, many of whom no longer had homes.

Really!

Ya know... I think I blame the news media.
Have you ever noticed how they can change the subject in the blink of an eye?
That, and it seems like they really want us to focus on suffering.

good grief