#2 Son, as is his habit, asked that I give him a wake-up call at Five AM. No problem. I’m a Dad, after all. He has a business trip to Pennsylvania, with his boss and friend Torres, to buy motorcycle parts for resale. J got home early. She is sleeping . I should be doing the same.

For now, while I get free sleepy again, I’m watching The Divine Liturgy from a monastery in Russia. The Liturgy is very reverent with a choir chanting melodically in counterpoint to the chanted reading of The Gospel, I think it’s The Gospel.

“We will comprehend the word serenity and we wil know peace.”

So states one of the Ninth Step Promises of Alcoholics Anonymous. I have this notion of serenity that has me “cool” in the face of stress. While that may be true, serenity in the Presence of Our Lord is another type of serenity. He promised us that He would be present whenever we gather in His Name. I see that today at this monastery, with prayers offered in a language foreign to me.

This is the Russia that endured when Communism faded away. The faith that sustained Russia in the face of Hitler, Stalin and their murderers is expressed by the worshippers gathered here. A nation isn’t just its government. During this turmoil in America, continuing even after change of Presidents, we need to remember this.

Our Lord’s sovereignty prevails over Russia. His sovereignty prevails over America, whether we choose to recognize it or ignore it. And He is the same Lord of all, particularly of all nations, Christian or non-Christian.

I wanted to brag about my return to the pool and swimming at The “Y”. But somehow, right now, it doesn’t seem all that important. I’ll save that for later.

With all due respect to Poor Richard, I live in my own sleep-deprived world. Sometimes things get a little topsey-turvey I had dinner last night at Eleven PM. I was hungry and I had dinner ready. except for the tomatoes and okra I had some red beans and barbecued pork loin, slow cooked for eight hours I had not planned on eating but it was all too yummy to pass up

I got back to swimming last Thursday. That day I swam 1,000 meters. Last night I swam 1500 meters. I felt great swimming The COVID-19 Protocols allow for only a 45 minute session and I swam 43 minutes My goal is to swim a mile in under 45 minutes, then go even lower, meaning faster. It is entirely attainable.

Time to go back to bed .

If I want to play The Oven Repair Game, I better pony up around $100, just to be dealt a hand.

That’s about what it costs for the technician to show up and tell me what’s wrong. It could be something minor, or it could be something major. If it is the time/ temperature module, the cost of that part costs almost as much as a new range.

Think about it. The components of a range are heating elements, sheet metal, and the electronic control module. Guess which part is the most expensive? Yep. What went bad or, best case scenario, what might be going bad.

So I’m not paying for a technician to show up and tell me my range isn’t worth fixing. I can’t blame the repair people. They have a business to run and it costs money to send technicians on a call.

It’s not really a game.Reality, as in what it takes to run a business, sets the terms and conditions.

Nobody says adulting would be easy.

There was a novel and a derivative television series, A Year In Provence, where a couple gives up the hectic pace and complexity of life in modern London for the tranquil and relaxed lifestyle of rural Provence. Americans of a certain age will immediately recognize that the premise of the story tracks that of the classic American sitcom, Green Acres.

It is an enjoyable charming series and the stars, the late John Thaw and Lindsey Duncan, make the show as engaging as Eddie Albert and Eva Gabor made its predecessor. Admittedly AYIP is a bit more sophisticated and Albert and Gabor were definitely doing great satire on American life in the Sixties.

What brings them both to mind is I have to have my Whirlpool electric range repaired. There is a bad time/ temperature control module. Back in the day, it would be a simple enough task to open the Yellow Pages, find a repair service, call them and somebody would come over and fix it if you told them to do so.

Now I go online and the entire appliance and home repair world opens up at my service. Call them and somebody will come by when it is most convenient for them and least convenient for me. It’s all similar to how life worked for Peter Mayle or Oliver Wendell Douglas.

Back to the hunt.

Ideas are percolating in my brain..I did some cleaning and I started getting ideas about the house worthy of an HGTV host. Suddenly I fancied myself serving tea on my newly reconfigured terrace, formerly the deck. Just the finest of whoever I hang around with was savoring the good life in my little slice of paradise.

Then my brain shifted gears and I was thinking about making my own lavender-infused syrup which i could use in concocting fancy drinks to serve my necessarily teetotal friends.. 

I did throw out my accumulated plastic cutlery stash and much of the recyclable containers that come with take away.

I really  want to fall asleep. Blogging is counterproductive to that interesting tion. 

Nighty Night.

We got iPhones, J and I. It is a new world, but it really isn’t.

I don’t have it in me to write about how effed-up the world is. I did watch a video on YouTube that featured a nine year old girl who is a balalaika virtuoso. If you’ve seen The Grand Budapest Hotel, you may remember the balalaika orchestra that accompanied the closing credits. This girl gave me more hope for the world than anything I’ve seen or read in the news since Nixon’s resignation. Then again, that is a major purpose of art. Art puts the mundane in its proper place.

Meanwhile, we had snow. It was Currier & Ives beautiful for a couple hours before turning to slush. Alas, Bing Crosby and the gang were not around to keep the magic going.

I did a FaceTime call with a friend, worth every minute it has taken to learn this new system.

I cleared off an enormous pile of crap off my side table, wrote some checks, paid some bills, made some charitable donations.

Here is a thought . Can you imagine your life without bogeymen? You know the people you blame for the planet’s predicament and your own personal problems. Trump, Obama, George Soros, your “ex”- boss, spouse, lover, fill in the blank. Seems like every four years, we start looking for a new Savior. We don’t need new Presidents. We need a football head coach. If things don’t work out, we hire a new one.

But whatever. The decaf is ready. My feet are cold. Life’s pretty good, as long as we have nine year old balalaika virtuosi.

If you aren’t outraged that a few billionaires can get together to discuss the fate of everybody else on this planet, you ought to be.

This is White Privilege at work, on steroids, but the racialists, like BLM, don’t interfere with this little sit-down. No Sir-ree Bob. They go for the low hanging fruit, like the cops who want to end their shifts alive, so they can see their children, or the business owners that want to keep their life’s work from being destroyed.

These are the Great Reset people. They hire public relations consultants to convince you that whatever it is that they want is what you should want. If you watch popular media, you are getting their messages whether its the “news” or “entertainment”. Remember that Davos denizen George Soros has a significant interest in Netflix, and that the Obamas, both husband and wife, are on that payroll. Bear in mind that has-been politicians, like The Clintons, hang around the World Economic Forum, to burnish their “globalist” credentials.

The Davos people have managed to deflect the “class struggle” away from themselves, so one victimized group goes after another marginalized group to right some wrong, that they aren’t responsible for in the first place.

The game of world economics is rigged in their favor. If they want to stop climate change, what is stopping them? They possess the capital (aka Money 💰). Finance what you want to see, Davos guys. But wait, what if climate change amelioration projects are sure fire money losers? What if the projects are practically of no value? Better to trash the economies of the USA, or Russia or Brazil, or countless other nations and societies, than risk their own fortunes. They can be praised as humanitarians when they “help” the desperate people suffering from the catastrophes they fostered.

Enjoy today’s cold shower, folks.

I have a cousin, who is a Civil War “buff” and something of an amateur genealogist. He set out to research if any of his (our) ancestors served in the Civil War. Being a Virginian and thus a Southerner, he naturally assumed such an ancestor would have fought for the Confederacy.

Knowing that our family originally came from Eastern Tennessee, he began perusing regimental muster rolls from that area and discovered a man with our surname, and, most likely, an ancestor. Further research revealed that Eastern Tennessee was a Unionist pocket within the Secessionist Southern monolith. This regiment fought for the Union.

This is what we learn from any kind of historical research. The facts don’t always match the generalizations.

Just think about that. We are told “stories” every day. That’s what the news is.

The Daily Story

Doesn’t have quite the same impact, does it? And yet, that’s what we receive, in print, through radio waves, or digitally. We choose the story we would most like to believe. We trust, we hope, sometimes desperately, that the story is factual or true.

Now ask yourself, do you really trust Mitch McConnell, Nancy Pelosi, or Chuck Schumer to deliver the truth? Let’s leave Trump out of this. He’s an entire genre of story unto himself. (Readers in the UK, India, Australia,etc., substitute your own homegrown politico).

But that is what we have. Creative Legend Making on a commercial scale, custom-made to validate our world views . AKA, The News.

Moral of story: Cut people some slack why don’tcha?

I turned 70 yesterday. That is all

“If you prick us do we not bleed?

If you tickle us, do we not laugh?

If you poison us, do we not die?

If you wrong us, shall we not revenge?”

“The Merchant Of Venice, Shakespeare. Act III, scene ii .

With any luck, this will be my last Troll series post. After a day of letting a hater live free in my head, after being stigmatized for daring to defend the well-intentioned Trump supporters who found the Capitol “Riot” as appalling as just about all Americans found it, after suggesting that President Trump’s side of the story, with evidence , be presented, before he is judged, I thought Shakespeare might be worth considering.

I am concerned I will lose dear friends in the blogging world for writing this. Donald Trump, even as loathsome at times as he can be and as people find him, at least is entitled to a competent defense. So there.

Like Shylock, I am a human being. Unlike Shylock, I do not consider revenge a viable solution for any grievance.

But here we are. I probably have forgotten more about Nazism, its origins, ideology, and crimes, than what all of my detractors know combined. So dragging out the Nazi analogy is particular annoying, if only for its breath taking stupidity.

Once one sees a blue-inked number, with a European “7”. tattooed on a man’s forearm, the history lesson gets very real.

If a blog is a place where persons can post their thoughts, and expect no pushback, well I guess I broke an unwritten rule.

No apologies will be forthcoming. None is needed.