Tag Archives: a personal note

Back to the Book

may 31 2019 001

Where’s the Reset button for this day? We’re getting inundated with nuisance phone calls, some of them robo-calls in Chinese, and another one offering a reverse mortgage on our apartment: what in the world makes them think they can sell us anything by plaguing us?

So I typed up the third chapter set for my book and sent it off to Susan, to be informed that because of some computer claptrap, she can’t open it and read it… ah, fap. Just plain fap.

But I did get out there this morning and resume writing The Wind From Heaven, which is galloping headlong toward I don’t know where: the Lord has the steering wheel and I’m just writing everything down as He gives it to me. Chutt and Ysbott, you’re in trouble–let’s see you get out of these jams. Prester Jod, you need a telephone: too bad they haven’t been invented yet. The wind is blowing and all the characters are just hanging on.

And there’s another nuisance call–that’s at least half a dozen of them so far today.

And back to work I go.

‘My Pet Tree Frog’ (2015)

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Frogs don’t usually make good pets. But the grey tree frog is different.


These little guys actually get tame, don’t mind if you handle them, and will take food from your fingers. Plus they change colors, and they sing. And there’s a lot to be said for the ability to cling to a windowpane without falling off.

The Science of… Loneliness?

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Can you take a pill that will cure loneliness?

Researchers at the University of Chicago Brain Dynamics Lab think they’ve found a hormone that may “reduce an exaggerated threat response similar to the kind of hyper vigilance lonely people feel” (https://nationalpost.com/health/all-the-lonely-people). It seems to work in mice–although how they can tell when a mouse is feeling lonely is more than I can say.

They got into this study because some of the researchers themselves were feeling lonely, they “felt their relationships seemed superficial and forced.” They say they are not trying to “cure loneliness with a pill.” What they are trying to do, well, search me.

In a fallen world, everybody has a time in life when they feel lonely, sad, unable to connect. You can feel that way even if you’re surrounded by other people. For most of us those times are something that passes. For a few, they don’t. Some continue to feel lonely even when family and friends who love them and care about them try to reach out to them: it doesn’t seem to help. I once had a friend like that, many years ago. We were toddlers together. But his life fell into a bad way, his family couldn’t help him, he seemed to lose interest in his real friends, and the story had a tragic conclusion.

We were young and didn’t understand or appreciate the power of prayer. It never even occurred to me at the time. I wish it had.

In a world stocked to the gills with false prophets, preposterous ideologies, rampant immorality and selfishness, lying as a means of communication, fake nooze and foolish public figures shouting doom and gloom, it’s a wonder there isn’t more loneliness.

God labors to preserve us in spite of ourselves. He sees something in us that a lot of us will never see–His own image, ransomed and saved by Jesus Christ.

“…And He shall win the battle.”   –Martin Luther

Hi-ho, Hi-ho, with Heaps of Work to Go

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Just looking at my workload for the rest of the day–oh, boy.

Type chapters of The Wind From Heaven. Create, type, and submit a Newswithviews column. More blog posts.  I’ve already been to the post office, read another couple chapters of the Mangalwadi book, and done a few blog posts.

Oh Lord, give me strength, and make my work fruitful in your service. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

If You’re Old, They Think You’re Stupid

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Not that this will come as a surprise to any of you who’ve already experienced it. But I’m still new at being old, and I haven’t gotten used to it yet.

Yesterday I had to buy some cigarettes for my wife. I don’t smoke cigarettes and I’ve never been able to remember all the specifications involved–so I bring along an empty pack so I can hand it to the clerk and say, “Three of these.”

Well, what I got turned out to be the wrong kind. “Didn’t you check them first?” Well, no–the clerk just stuffed ’em into a bag and I didn’t take the time to open the bag and examine its contents.

Back I go to the freakin’ supermarket; and there I discover that they are out of the kind of cigarettes I asked for. That’s why they gave me the wrong kind.

The assumption is, Look at all that white in his beard! He’s so far gone, he’ll never notice what kind of cigarettes we sold him. Doesn’t matter what I put in the bag! He’ll never catch on–dopey old trout.

Oh–and this store also demands proof of legal age before they’ll sell you any tobacco products. It’s just a gratuitous insult. I mean, do I look like I might be under eighteen? But this we get from our Democrat governor who calls pot-smoking a towering civil rights issue but smoking menthol cigarettes, hey, there oughtta be a law against it…

I can play basketball and ride my bike no-handed: I deserve respect.

‘The Last Rose of Summer,’ Take Two

The first time I tried to post this lovely song here, I had nothing but problems. So here it is again–The Last Rose of Summer.

This goes straight to my heart. Poems written by Thomas Moore do have a way of doing that (“The Minstrel Boy,” “Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms”). And I can’t see Andrew Rieu and his orchestra without remembering my aunts at Christmas time, and how they loved his music.

Well, the post seems to have worked this time.

And it looks like the worst part of my allergy attack has abated, thanks be to God.

My Day So Far

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My allergies are killing me again today, but if I go to bed none of my work will get done. And I had to go to the supermarket this morning.

As I sit here trying to write, with the allergies running hog-wild, the fatzing phone keeps ringing and it’s always twaddle, always someone trying to extract money from us. The last call featured a live person instead of a robot, with a thick Indian accent, trying to sell me “orthopedic pain management.”

Scanning the nooze hasn’t helped me, either. I think I may be getting allergic to Democrats.

*Sigh*  … Time to write Joe Collidge.

Where Are Our Crab Cakes?

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First I want to thank all of you who’ve sent Patty and me your greetings and felicitations for this day. So many good wishes! They do mean a lot to us.

Second… Where the dickens are our crab cakes? They were supposed to be delivered today, but no sign of them yet.

For our 40th anniversary I wanted to buy us lobsters, so I went to the supermarket a few days beforehand and reserved two lobsters so that I could get them fresh on August 8. I went back on the appointed day to pick up our lobsters–and there weren’t any! Nope, no lobsters today, boyo–sorry! Wit you well I was highly cheesed off. After all, you only get one 40th wedding anniversary. I wanted it to be a special occasion. Well, it was, of course–but without the lobsters.

I also ordered a gift for Patty last week, and that’s not here, either.

*Sigh*   And fap.

Today Is/Was the Day

Image result for images of maryland is for crabs t-shirt

Today’s our 42nd anniversary, and I’m wearing one of the T-shirts I bought on that first trip to Maryland, our elopement. It’s just like the one in the picture, although of course it’s 42 years old and I have to be careful with it.

Our low-key festivities today will feature a monster movie, rented by Patty yesterday, and really nice crab cakes for supper–and “really nice” is an understatement.

We crave tranquility today, so you won’t find me spending much time on the nooze. I want to take a bike ride before it gets too hot, and maybe post one more thing up here this morning–and so I’ll see you all a little later on. 🙂

‘All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name’

Choir, orchestra, and organ all together–for this glorious hymn, All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name, performed at Boe Memorial Chapel, St. Olaf’s College.

My most vivid memory of this hymn is from YMCA summer camp, sung by the counselors for Sunday morning service at the outdoor chapel on the hilltop, overlooking a patchwork of fields and woodlands. Too beautiful ever to forget.

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