You are where you got to. You probably can’t go back or recall. You don’t have to log every branch to return and explore. You can get through the labyrinth, assuredly, with Ariadne’s string. You can get through by always turning left (or always turning right). But you can also get through by walking around. Chance comes into play. Is there a rush such that you need to be efficient? Is there a compelling reason that you have to guarantee your escape, through retreat or algorithm?

If you insist on “prove it to me”; if you insist on being sure of yourself each step; if you’re only willing to suspend your disbelief until, finally, it all comes together and the explanation can be seen, you’re only going to get places that are safe without any risk of being… well, you might call it wrong, but I’m coming to realize you won’t get any place that’s new. You’ll dismiss entire realms of possibilities and existence because you insist on things making sense.

Following on Cheryl’s post below, I just went on a journey with my sub-personalities to explore why people lined up before the store opens to buy Pokemon cards bothers me.

The Ruff Draft

I Want to Know What I Hate and Why

I hate institutionalized schooling. I hate the profession of teaching. Those thoughts and feelings are there in me for a reason, so I’ve been figuring out why, and I’ve had plenty of opportunity to do so, what with almost daily interactions touching them off…

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16 days ago · 1 like · 3 comments · Cheryl Ruffing

Until now, I’ve caught myself with the simple “it really shouldn’t bother you, Dennis” and done my best to let go. I know it shouldn’t bother me, so I’ve practiced not letting it bother me. Less judgement, but still judgement. Better than nothing. But Cheryl’s advising to do better than that, and it’s a practice I’ve done with other more burning topics in my direct life that need attention. That I’ve gotten better at letting go of frustrations with Pokemon buyers or slow drivers, I haven’t tried to “know what I hate and why” about them. Who knows? Maybe some of my higher priority problems can be resolved or revealed by investigating my reactions to the Pokemonteurs.

It doesn’t have to make sense.

I can’t and won’t try to relate the steps I went through over some fifteen minutes of meditative contemplation. What’s neat is that I started with the focus on the Pokemon problem and ended with an insight - made it through the labyrinth - but the journey went lots of places, including a shocking comment by my problem-solving sub personality Darla, who said out of nowhere “I’m not here to protect you; you’re now here to protect me,” which was accompanied by some light and delight. Protect or help (elevate), it was a significant change in perspective. Huzzah!

But before that, I asked Brad, my protective ego, if he had any insight. I waited. “School”. Was he able or willing to expand? No? Anyone else? I think Darla: I couldn’t fit in. Wouldn’t allow myself to fit in. But there were groups of friends in school. Cliques. Which has a (deservedly) bad connotation. I wasn’t in them. I didn’t know how. I was driven to school 15 miles away from my neighborhood. I wasn’t worthy. I was stand on my own rugged. But there were genuine groups of friends. I wasn’t in them. And the Pokemonteurs are a group of friends. (I have to assume) they do enjoy meeting up Friday mornings, standing in the cold. Waiting in the coffee shop. Talking, laughing, messaging; letting each other know the chase is on.

I envy them their friendship and willingness, ability, and delight at being part of something. Maybe I can let down my guard and trust and do the same. Good for them.

It was, I believe, the summer of The Renegades, a made up gang of the four of us not-so-dangerous hoodlum wannabes who would hang out and do nothing. We were inspired by Styx’s Renegade, which Annie would play on her all-in-one record player that had flashing colored disco lights tied to the music. Louder the music, brighter the lights. It was also the summer of Driver’s Seat; of Cruel to be Kind, and of 70s day, held as a fun afternoon of games and refreshments coordinated by us kids at Annie Logans’s house (9 Southfield). At the end of the summer, Annie’s mom took the four of us to Canobie Lake amusement park.

I could be off a year or two either way with the songs, but that’s what sticks with me. Playing at Annie’s house. Her dad had a train layout in his basement. One time, the four of us plus Annie’s older sister Sue, shot guns towards targets in her back yard beyond the swing set, towards the wood. Woods which seemed infinite in size, but were well within a stray bullet’s reach of Corduroy Rd. The target practice was with various of her father’s gun collection. 22s, rifles, pistols, even larger calibers. Just kids, 10-14 years old. No adult supervision whatsoever. Annie may have asked her dad before he went to work. No cops, either. Different times indeed:

Somewhere in that summer, near the edge of the Logan’s yard near the head of the foot trail through the woods to our house, Matt and I got into a fight. No idea what it was about. But it was hot, hazy, humid: NH in late June through July and into early August. June mornings, early, in NH can have a white-colored heat to them, the buzzing/snap of crickets white-noising out every other sound. It’s a unique and solitary feeling, a hot June morning in NH is. Having come as an adult back from the west of Colorado to Maine, I experience it once every year or two here some 200 miles north and east of Amherst. That’s when I know I’m in New England.

Back to the fight. I swung and connected against the side of his head. That’s all I can remember about the fight. It might have been the end of it. I might have actually won it there and then, but Matt wouldn’t have conceded that fact if it were, in fact, a fact. Not there and then; not here and now.

I don’t recall anyone’s parents breaking it up. I don’t recall getting in trouble. I don’t recall my hand hurting. But it must have. Because I did, it turns out, break a bone in my hand and got a cool looking cast for the rest of the summer out of it. I do recall going to the doctor’s office along 101A in Milford, a re-purposed Victorian closer to the Oval than to Leo’s Ponemah Farms. A cast it was. Annie drew a Star Wars logo on it, font-perfect. Blue outline filled in with yellow. Other people signed the cast. I wonder if I had an 11 year old’s concept of a crush on Annie. It would be awkward if 13 year old Annie had one on me. I do know (I figured it out later) that Thea had one on me. But being the clueless wonder I am, their (possible) efforts were wasted. What did I know of what to do with a girl at 18, never-mind at a pre-pubescent 11 or 12? Nuttin.

But I broke my hand on his head. That’s rage coming out. Something I was not allowed to do. What pushed it out then? Me in a fight? I avoided fights. I don’t like getting punched. Brett Hupfer once hauled off and socked me in the nose when we were 13 or 14, causing a torrent of blood to gush. This happened at the Jasper Valley basketball court. Brett’s friend (not mine) Don what’s-his-face-asshole-perve watched and laughed. I went and played with Brett the next day. We stayed friends; never discussed it. I don’t know what caused him to punch me. But knowing more about myself now, I probably said something that was a passive aggressive insult about him or his brother and he aggressive-aggressively shut that shit down. That’s my guess. I probably deserved it and didn’t know it.

The fight with my brother, though, that was rage coming out. Rage against my brother, rage against something pretty clearly unfair to me. Rage in that I had no other way to express it, though I knew its target. Probably teasing me? Keeping me down? Keeping himself up? And what came of it from my parents? No investigation. No working it out. No apologies exchanged. No punishments. No admonishment or frustration at an interruption that took them to the doctor for a cast. Just… maybe the threat of repercussions was enough for them to avoid having to deal out repercussions, because they truly didn’t know how to deal them out? They had things so “under control” in the way they lived life to feel their children didn’t do things that would warrant repercussions, and that was the way that was, without it being said?

So it’s like it never happened; like I never broke my hand on his head when I punched him. The rage was never acknowledged or relieved. Never validated. Never called out. Boundaries had not changed - neither loosened nor tightened; strict behaviors and expectations were not adjusted.

It never happened.

But I had this cast, you see. I broke my hand on his head.

He was in first grade. I was to follow the next year. He related to me that the teacher, Mrs. Hoefler, was “mean and scary”. I had no other source of information, and didn’t need one: if she was mean and scary, then, believing the witness, there was no other way to experience her but that she was mean and scary.

I dimly recall Mrs. Hoefler visiting with my mother the summer before first grade. Sitting on the side porch. Drinking iced tea. Talking about who knows what. I have no idea the reason for the visit. It’s not like they were friends in some circle. It might have been about me. I remember poking my head onto the porch timid, afraid. “Who is this monster?” I must have wondered. She had short hair. But she gave off the same vibe as The Wicked Witch of the West. When The Wizard of Oz was on television, if the witch was on screen, I was OUT of the room. I never even knew about the flying monkeys. Just a terrifying movie for a child. Even on a black and white T.V.

I did have Mrs. Hoefler my first year in school. I was scared to death. Part way through that school year (heck, it might have been the second week, though by week two of your tour of duty, you’re a grizzled veteran who’s been in the trenches forever) Joey Seiler joined the class.

He became my friend.

It was before any schooling for me, and since I did some kindergarten and then, of course, real school, which would have been the age of five. Three would have been too young.

I was staying, with whichever of my siblings were here on this earth with me, with my Aunt Mava and Uncle Jim and cousins Donna and Debra, who were a matched set of comparators to my brother and me: the same age, opposite sex, and competitive in all things. Where were my parents? Probably at the hospital for the birth of my younger sister.

Mava had prepared for us some busy work. Simple addition problems. I remember green-bar paper and long rows of properly formed sums in the long addition format, i.e.

I can’t tell you if math or addition were new to me, but I can remember sitting on a stool, long yellow pencil in hand, steadily doing the math and getting the answers right. Gold star for me. Turning this in, I was given another sheet that looked like this:

I went ahead and added those up as well and turned the sheet in. To which Mava noticed my obvious additions and explained the concept of subtraction to me.

“Oh!”

I went back and re-did the worksheet using this new subtraction concept and got the answers right.

This is a story about defensiveness. Did Donna or Debra tease me about not knowing subtraction because that meant they were superior? I don’t recall. But they could be like that.1 How did I feel when Mava reviewed and informed me of the incorrect answers? It wasn’t dramatic - no tears, no red face. Mava saw what I didn’t know, taught me in a positive way, and off I went. This memory popped up to me yesterday while working with my protective ego. It was hardly the worst moment of my life but here it is, some 50 years later.

I wasn’t stupid. I was ignorant. When given the concept, I was able to accomplish the task. And yet this defense of myself, be it dramatic or inconsequential in the moment, was already in place in my psyche. There’s a distinction between justifying myself with “it’s not my fault; I didn’t know” and it simply not being my fault; I didn’t know.

The point is I had to justify myself even then. For we were praised for being clever, fast, tall, well-behaved. In mastering the concept of subtraction in about a minute, I survived and moved on in the world. Remember: It wasn’t my fault; I didn’t know. That was a valid response from me to the world, a Schrödinger's gat-out-of-jail-free card that is both genuine and misguided depending on when you observe it.

Me: Why don’t you take risks in connecting with people?

Brad: I can’t make a mistake. So, no risk, no mistakes.

Me: Are they mistakes?

Brad: Something goes wrong. I do the wrong thing.

Me: Based on your standard?

Brad: Based on theirs.

Me: …which you don’t know. Can’t know.

Brad: Right. So things go wrong.

Me: But they aren’t mistakes, they are things the other party doesn’t like, right?

Brad: Right. I’m not trying to hurt you! I’m not allowed to hurt you.

Me: So when you’re in an uptight situation…

Brad: …and the expectations are changed on me and keep changing, it becomes harder and harder to be me and not make a mistake; cause a problem

Me: Because you have to protect / be you - you can’t surrender you but you also cannot please the other parties whose rules you are playing by?

Brad: Yes. If I withdraw; if I withhold engagement, then there’s less / no risk of mistakes, things going wrong.

Me: But when you’re in a situation and the expectations change and it gets worse and worse, what’s the threat to you?

Brad: I am trapped in a corner and any movement to escape is driven by the fundamental need to protect myself.

“Look, Doug,” said Grandpa, driving into town from the farm. Behind them in the Kissel Kar were six large pumpkins picked fresh from the patch. “See those flowers?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Farewell summer, Doug. That’s the name of those flowers. Feel the air? August come back. Farewell, summer.”

“Boy,” said Doug, “that’s a sad name.”

I was in bed and was keen to crack open another Bradbury (for a novel by Ray is a treat. Like investigating the back catalog of a favorite band, I savor each one) and, right on cue, like a Mark Knopfler guitar lick, he tickled my place in this world.

This past week, leading up to what must be the storm of the century, has been all about plans, enduring, prepping, surviving, how …terrible it will all be. And as Doug and Grandpa said farewell to summer it occurred to me that the coming snow and ice aren’t some thing to be warded, but rather a moment. The heart of winter. True cold. True quiet. And if the forecasts of the week to come are even half right, it will be a long session, the deepest part of winter.

Isn’t that a good thing? It is well come. It is what it is supposed to be. It will be cold. It will bring much snow. There will be shovels. Power will likely go out. But winter is presenting itself fully to us. Black nights, brittle, stars glimmering like snowflakes (as my wife and grandchild discussed last night), white snow, brown and gray and winter-green trees, a sun hidden in gray, barely showing itself, and then bright white crisp and heatless through blue skies, with breath-grabbing cold.

That we try to avoid it? No no no no. Embrace. Give winter a long hug. It’s giving you one.

I resolved to go into the woods.

When I did this morning, a hemlock tree off the trail called me over. Then I was referred to a trio of uprooted trees from a storm a few years past, leaning out from a central point into three different directions, like construction site cranes left for the weekend, forming a mound which they encouraged me to climb. When I reached the summit, I stopped at a well-trodden snow path over the top, just a handful or two wide, with some yellow markings. It went partway up one of the angled trunks. A lookout? Following it the other direction I saw two beaten paths headed into the woods. Wait. A third trail curled under the mound out of the wind and snow into a shelter formed by one of the the up-rooted tree bases. Oh. My apologies for standing on your home.

I backed off the mound and followed some tracks through the deep woods until I crossed a trail familiar to me. The domain of people like me who visit these woods through out the seasons.

You are well come, winter!

I went to a local golf clubhouse / bar in the morning, where they have a TrackMan golf simulator. Word about it hasn’t gotten out; the price is low for indoor golf, especially considering the real-deal Trackman equipment, so hooray. I had something I’d discovered in my swing and I wanted the data: was I right? Did I mine those extra 15 yards?

Nah.

Shank, blade, pull. I think I hit two good shots the whole time. There it was, the sinking feeling of failure, of helplessness, of “why do I bother?” which, after a few valiant resets of optimism are dashed, takes me down. Fine. Another day.

Throughout the afternoon I tried to do some “me work”. I couldn’t focus on my books; could not read a whole paragraph. I couldn’t write. Couldn’t even do more than a third of a page of penmanship practice. You know, because my cursive lower case ‘a’s and ‘c’s are indistinguishable. Rote practice, get the strokes in, notice the technique, go slower, use the arm. Bah. Worse than golf. I wrote that “my body would not focus on a task” and let it all go for the day. I couldn’t even read a page in the book I’m reading.

Sunday morning, half a cup of coffee in, and I tried again. Yes, I was rested, yes I could read and comprehend at the same time. Campbell said something that linked creation and the nature of men and women in a single sentence (...she is the lure that moved the Self-brooding Absolute to the act of creation) and things made sense. I took my time and thought about things.

I tried again with Ferrucci’s chapter 17, Beauty, and the first paragraph reflected my exact present-day experience. I needed some beauty. He talked about an exercise he had done in group sessions, laying out prints of art, and how even that quick exposure to beauty had provided a few seconds of experience, of meditation on beauty.

I could go grab one of the coffee table books from the next room. Look at Thomas Hart Benton paintings.

But that seemed a false step. I picked up a pen from my desk. There’s beauty in this. Spend a few minutes with it. It is heavy. It’s design combined materials. The cap snaps on magnetically - snick! The colors, the textures, the clip rocks side to side. At the top of the cap is a double mountain stamped logo. Monte Verde is the brand. Green mountain. I thought of Vermont. I picked up another pen and remembered the excitement of receiving it as a Christmas gift.

That’s right: I’m raising my vibes. I need to take the time to contemplate beauty.

I looked at the potted plants on my desk. Felt their leaves. Stuck my finger in their dirt: cool, moist. My wife watered them for me. Thank you. I looked out the window at the gray sky, the bare trees, the snow on the ground.

I need to slow down. The woods. I haven’t been in the woods since hunting season began. What, six, eight weeks ago?

The effort to dress for the cold; decide about boots, snowshoes, skis? No. But I have a monitor behind me, and there are infinite 4k videos of nature. I swivel-chaired and searched and was (after skipping a Ford! commercial) was taken to a gorgeous landscape shot from a drone rising along the surf.

That’s beautiful. Look at the -

BAM! The scene changed.

A mountain, the forest, the majestic sweep of its -

BAM! The scene changed.

I don’t want this. This is not beauty. Slow down.

Never enough time
To see what could, should be seen
Slowly: take it in

I need to immerse. New search. I remember that I’ve seen hikes in the woods. Surely someone has done that. Yes. Along a river. Time to see the mountain from the path.

It’s clearly fall. Headphones. Wow! the river is loud! Look at those down trees; chain-sawed chunks cast aside to clear the path, just like in my own woods. The river is getting quieter with each step. Pause. Those twisted limbs, every which way. Look!

This was 11:30 in to the video.

But something was still wrong. A minute or so later the birds started calling. They were added in. At the Denver Zoo this spring, they had bird calls piped in over tinny loudspeakers throughout the park. At the zoo.

So I looked further. And found Redwood Forest Soundscape | 4K Forest Walk, Not AI | Natural Ambience | Study & Meditation They had to put that it was real in the title, which is its own depressing thought.

Can you forest bathe through a screen?

Yes.

The red morning light on the redwoods.

The creator commented that he specifically went there for the dawn chorus. “During the majority of the day, you only hear wind through the needles of redwood trees and the occasional chirping of birds. The dawn chorus is the most active sonic time of the day in most environments, but certainly so in a Redwood Forest”

And the Dawn Chorus clicked for me. I know it. I hear it from bed on summer mornings, after long hot nights with intermittent sleep.

Is it dawn already? Must I? Yes. But first, open your eyes, look out the window, over the shade, to the trees’ tops, to see the sun lighting them slowly climbing down as it levers itself up into the sky.

Arise, dawn chorus!
Chatter, wail! Start each new day
I hear you from bed

Though I didn’t walk in the woods yesterday, I walked in the woods yesterday, and it gave me peace.

By looking at beauty, by taking the time to see it, hear it, touch it.

• The temperatures continue to steadily drop. It’s as if nature was doing its thing on its own, the way it should, and everything is running smoothly

• Some sunshine against a dark sky. I look out my window and see that even now, as I saw it yesterday- long morning shadows and beyond them, across and over and barely visible atop the trees, the dark sky to the west

• To the gym! The running was great and the jumping rope was not; I couldn’t get a rhythm. That said, my box jumping for vertical leap was effortless

• As my wife was explaining flower essences to someone at the gym, it dawned on me that they are symbolic as well

• Symbols, ideals, will

• More and more is revealed about the golf swing as I learn to whip and swish a driver shaft (without the head), helping me get the right “throw angle” and whipping/accelerating it after the point of contact with the ball: hit through the ball

• As the clerk called the delivery of birdseed to the backroom crew, he referred to the two of us as a “young couple”. It was just right

• Some Christmas shopping accomplished - on line and in person

• I parked my car smack dead in the middle of the parking spot. A thing of beauty, that was

• The first half of Lloyd Alexander’s Prydain series showed up on a shelf in a curiosity shop. I can’t get away from the guy

• I let the music service play a 70s rock mix. Most of the music was pretty darn good

• Strong winter skies: blue, white, black and gray

• Charged the battery in the convertible right up. Though it’s pretty late in the season to go for a ride with the top down. Snow’s a comin’ this week, they say

• I may have mentioned this yesterday, but major changes to the carriage house idea. Now it’s a cottage with a studio, music room, and an afternoon / overnight room

• Earthsea gets darker. She wasn’t afraid to go straight at things

• Turkey pot pie. Delicious

• I stood looking in the mirror for a time. It was a form of meditation; clearing my head so I could concentrate on what I was reading. Time did pass quickly as the sun emerged and retreated and came again. This I could tell by the brightening of the room

• My car has a self-parking feature. I learned how to use it and tried it out at the gym, sliding tight between two cars. Pretty cool! I can see it would be useful squeezing into good spots at an airport or in a city

• Eldest son was at the gym and he walked be through a flexibility analysis. I’m flexible. But along the way I showed him something I changed in my golf swing and he had an observation that helped seal that concept

• I found a paragraph in which Ferrucci succinctly sums up Psychosynthesis and a new understanding came to me

• Looking out on the bare back yard is nice. The path, the lights, the rolling ground into different places

• Cheryl and I had a good business meeting. A (significant) change in plans for the out-building. This weekend yet for some shopping

• Pumpkin pie and apple pie. Having made and rolled out the crusts the day before and placed them in the freezer, I got started in the morning with a pumpkin pie, getting the spices (no ginger, but cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves!) into the mix and the whole combination into the oven

• Grandson came over to play in the morning while his mom and dad worked out. Turns out he had made a pumpkin pie with his dad, too!

• A lot of construction work done on the window seat

• Discussion with a son and sharing of a meditation that helps learn how to quite literally feel your emotions

• I stood between two apple peelers and sliced the bald apples they handed me into the mixing bowl

• It was warm enough to get out the net and hit some balls into it. Yes, the fundamental change I made to my swing continues to stick. I like it

• Sunshine! Intermittent, but it made its appearance. Spoiler alert: it’s doing the same right now. I shall have to mention it tomorrow

• We watched a video of a man with an excavator dig out another excavator from a muddy suburban park. Amazing to watch him work. Grandson had a lot of questions, most of which were “why?”, but we did some of our own excavating with planks on the couch

• The turkey was extremely tasty and large. There should be a ton of leftovers today

• I woke up to an important email m wife had sent

• After taking out the trash, I focused on some things in my office

• I’m working on staying on task while in the task, with many distractions available. Small distractions, such as fixing a typo instead of finishing a sentence. Acts of the will for practice. You know, the typos will be there to clean up after you’ve finished the piece

• Number two son and wife came over, so we caught them up on the latest in relationships

• My son was here to swap out for winter tires. I stayed in the garage to help him and talk. We covered a lot of good topics. It was fun!

• I also helped him a loose bolt on his rear suspension so that it went in smoothly and stayed. More advanced mechanic skills: knowing when to back out and try again. Also known as patience

• The weather was so nice (upper 40s, calm, sun doing its best) that I set up the golf net to try a new swing concept. Instant results led to me getting out the launch monitor and running through irons 6, 8, 7, and 5 with good consistency and striking. Hitting a ball solid is such a great feeling

• A quick nap. Naps are really wonderful things

• I decided to change the snow tires on my car as well. Brand new wheels and tires, ordered as a set. I had a new tool, a piece that goes into the jacking point on the car and helps with a flat jack like mine. It worked great. Doing a steady job or task feels good

• The new winter tires are quiet and smooth. The TPMS sensors were found; all good. The car looks good in the new wheels, too

• My daughter came over. We caught up on the family dynamics and work. I’m learning how to talk to my own kids, though I’m not good at it yet

• We watched a movie together. Well, we watched two. They indulged me on a short (40 minutes) Christmas movie whose story is told around the repair of an older Mercedes sports sedan, and then we watch My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Which was touching, funny, and fun

A lot good happened yesterday!

• I awoke with a positive feeling. Which is significant in that the feeling wasn’t dread or fear

• The prism-causing stickers on the windows reflected off the windows on the other side of the room as I walked through. Their movement reminded me of a snow squall

• I enjoyed the late afternoon drive. I really haven’t been outside much the last few weeks. With the earlier sunsets and bare trees and staying out of the woods during hunting season it can be depressing

• The skies had a gorgeous woven cloud pattern that looked like icing on a doughnut. I’ve attached a picture

• I learned a lot about my father, my mother, and about myself

• I set the record straight. If their ears are deaf and they’re hard of hearing, I don’t know what more I can do

• One of the classic Victorian style houses along the way had been repainted in a very classy combination of whites, browns, and cranberry colors

• My car is a fabulous highway vehicle

Enjoy the sky!

• Listening, processing, and action

• While my car needed a top up of coolant, it turns out that I had the right kind in stock in the garage

• I get the chance to set records straight and set up the possibility of moving relationships along

• I’m helping a customer because someone internal is helping me

• I received an email from my wife’s new business domain!

• I saw a friend at the gym and he taught me how to learn to jump rope on one foot. It will take some practice

• While driving my daughter home from dance class, a number of songs came on the radio and their years came up for discussion. I nailed them: 88, 84, 84, 87. I was there, Gandalf, I was there

• I finished Ursula K. Le Guin’s A Wizard of Earthsea. Her storytelling style was unique - confident, paced, let the characters sit quietly in conversations - and I’m surprised I have not read her earlier

• Embracing areas of my solution and customer industries that I’ve avoided before

• Applied ice to my tailbone instead of heat and that seems to have made a huge difference. Thank you, dear

• I sent another email to an old work colleague

• Operation: Get the Turkey! was a success. Twenty-seven pounds

• Asked for help and received it

• High winds. The power went out. Right before a call. I survived

• A little penmanship practice. Just to remember pacing, rhythm. A few lines of iii, uuu, and www; aaa, ccc, ddd, ggg, and jjj. If you want legible penmanship, slow down

• On a positive note, while playing the volleyball, I was warmed up and was able to jump and touch the rim of the basketball hoop. Given my standing reach is 8 feet exactly and a hoop is ten feet, that means my vertical leap is 24”. I love that at age 57.5 I can touch the rim

• Having an apple with some peanut butter scooped out by a spoon, I looked and saw a horrified face in the shape of the peanut butter. It was funny

• I got to show my new hairdo to my grandson. I prepped him for it by telling him I’d got my hair cut really short and then slowly removing my hat. “Woah!” and then life carried on

• The Broncos overcame both the Chiefs and the Refs to grab a solid first place in their division, tied for the best record in the league with, of all teams, the Patriots at 9-2

• My wife and daughters and daughters-in-law went to a Goddesses Project event and from what I can tell they had a great time dressing up, taking pictures, entering (and winning) raffles

• Out we went to the local curiosity shop’s Christmas market, which is a weekend affair of Christmas themed content from a number of vendors all crammed into a former mill

• There was a vintage voltmeter there. It appeared to be railroad purposed, and was a General Electric device: a big, heavy (easily 15 lbs!), almost visor-shaped unit meant, I believe, to be permanently installed in a train yard’s control area to watch the voltage along the lines. That’s my guess. It was cool and was of a vintage where if there were any active devices inside the unit, they might have been tubes. It certainly predated solid state electronics

• One of my sons saw my new haircut and said I was giving off a Harrison Ford vibe. I went and checked my “People I’ve been told I look like” list. Yep, there was Harrison, near the beginning of the list

• I found a Van Reid book. It’s introduction set the state of mind in Maine in just poste-revolutionary District of Maine where not everyone was happy with the net change in bosses

• I also found a phrenology head. I’d just read a short story set in the late 1800s that involved phrenology (which I’d never heard of) and was surprised to find such a thing in the wild

• More intricacies of email systems for your own domains varying by hosting providers. It’s all supposed to work, and I’m sure does, but it’s a new language

• I was invited to play pickup volleyball by another son. We were fresh blood to the longstanding regulars. Lots of fun

• On the way to the volleyball, a car pulled out just in front of us from a side neighborhood. My other son. Synchronicity

• I was able to touch the rim on a 10 foot basketball hoop in the gym. Given my standing reach is just about 8 feet, that means a 24” vertical leap. Not bad for an old man

• I focused on what I was doing while I was doing it yesterday. From work to errands to dinner to watching a movie

• Speaking of which, the Fantastic Four’s mid-sixties context was kind of cool. From jet age to space age, in the era of the British pop invasion in our world, the explosion of technology and possibility and mastering of it all showed in the design, the fashion, the potential

• Someone at work helped me. Ask for help, get help

• Wicked Fast PC Repair repaired the PC wicked fast (and cheap) and we’re back up and running

• Noticing a lot in conversations. Considering what I notice

• I made a list and stuck to the topic of each item as I worked through it

• We found a place to get the computer fixed, and the tech actually listened to the information we provided him, changing his diagnosis as we went along

• Synchronicity about Feathers brand razors and blades. Mine coming from a discussion of safety razors online a year ago, my wife’s coming from hair stylists she follows online. They met up in a beauty supply shop when I picked up a box of Feathers blades about two seconds before she asked the clerk about Feathers straight razors. We were facing different directions and looking at entirely separate displays

• I continued to chip away at a complex set of capabilities in my product that I don’t know yet. I’m figuring them out

• The Patriots and the Broncos are both 9-2. What’s up with that?

• I helped my daughter top up the coolant in her car. All is well there

• Going to the dentist yesterday morning, my route passed through Smithfield and Norridgewock, two ideal names for two representative Maine small towns. They’re out of the way, and you only go through them if you’re going from some place you can’t get to to another place you shouldn’t go. The thought in my head was amazement that “people have been here for close on two hundred years!”

• I got my hair cut. It’s extremely short. Which is the opposite it was: extremely long. No muss, no fuss

• I gained another name on the “you know who you look like?” list: James Hetfield from Metallica

• I learned that I am afraid to go into dead ends. I’ve considered them a waste of time. But dead ends (being stuck) are where new possibilities emerge. So I’ve been allowing myself to go into the dead ends. New possibilities have emerged

• Acceptance

• Doing pull ups at the gym. One at a time, as I transition between exercises. I think I’ll reverse my grip next time, see if it affects my forearm muscles

• Another minor snow coverage. Winter is approaching

• I learned how to set up email on a web hosting platform for a domain one owns. That’s kind of cool

• Deeper understanding of focus for targeting in sports while working the pool table. Practice makes it easier to focus on the target- more quickly, more intensely

• Someone at work helped me by showing what she was doing with AI tools. This opened up new possibilities

• I’m thinking a bop on the nose while nursing might have absolutely shocked me as an infant