Book Of Scrap Delayed By Book Of Paver

I don't know if there's an official terminology to describe someone who produces a scrap book. A "SCRAPBOOKER" perhaps? One who prepares scrap books of cherished memories based on the old Latin verb, scrapolli, I suspect,  meaning to piece together documents and relics for the purpose of retaining visions of glories past. But here I am, deep into scrap booking or whatever you want to call it to record for posterity our trip to Alaska last June. That almost makes it more palatable, "recording for posterity" because when you say it that way it sort of sounds like genealogy. So some as yet to be identified heir of mine can come across said scrapbook a hundred years from now and see that his ancestors visited Alaska way back in 2011.  That sort of makes it worthwhile.  I have some mementos of my ancestors' trips, the most noteworthy being keepsakes my parents kept from their honeymoon. Hotel receipts and fliers and notes of expenses like cab fare and meals. Not exactly scrapbookish but sort of and I'm grateful to have them for my family history files. The problem with me, as in I, the scrapbooker extraordinaire,  is that I took too many photos. Now I've got to try to condense approximately 1800 photos into scrapbook proportions. Not an easy task, especially for a wuss like me who thinks every photo he takes is worthy of a Pulitzer prize and should be on the front page of National Geographic magazine (or at the very least, on the cover of SCRAPBOOK ILLUSTRATED).

So I've been slowly plugging away at this project for a few weeks now, ignoring my genealogy research for the most part except for occasional diversionary forays into Ancestry.com just to keep the ancestry search juices flowing, and trying to make sense of, or I should say, trying to construct a scrap book of sorts that makes some sense in coordination with the chronological/geographical elements of our trip. When I'm finally done with it and if you ever get a chance to look at it be prepared to be confronted with, nay, overwhelmed  with lots of photographs of mountains! Keep in mind I've lived in Florida for the past 22 years so mountains are not an every day thing for me. So when I saw mountains, I took pictures of mountains. Lots of 'em.  But not all, just a lot. Here's a few pages of what I've got so far.

I added text to some pages that I call "header" pages like this one. When we drove from Valdez to Fairbanks we started off in a place called Keystone Canyon. So the page identifies the beginning in the scrap book of things we saw in Keystone Canyon.  Then, after a "header" page I grouped photos together in various formats like this:

I'm so darn creative I'm sure they are preparing to carve my name into the granite wall of honor in the Scrapbook Hall of Fame. But I'll have to admit, after a while of doing this it gets a little tedious. It's my own fault after taking so many freaking mountain pictures but it just starts to become boring. Beauteous? Yes, absolutely and especially in this case but boring nevertheless.    

Anyway, I've been doing this for a few weeks now and, by the way, this book of scrap was delegated to me by my wife because after doing about three pages of photos she got bored with it and suggested I take it over.  Lucky me! So I've been plugging away at it for awhile, some days a little bit, other days a few hours, some days nothing at all. But I keep coming back to it because I'm thinking about that unidentified heir in the year 2111 who comes across ScrapAlaskaBook at the bottom of a steamer trunk in the attic all covered with cobwebs and dust and wipes it off with his sleeve and blows the dust off and in mystery and awe announces, "Hey! Look at the pictures of the mountains.! Aren't they beauteous?!"

Alaska memories and scrapbooking of same had to go on hold recently because of a predicament I call "The Orange Crisis."  We live in a deeded community which requires approval from our homeowners architectural committee before any enhancements are made to the exterior of our homes. We have submitted a request for the committee's approval to put pavers in the alcove front entrance way to our home. Since a portion of our townhouse unit has a brick facade, we thought a paver in a brick-like design would provide a pleasant appearance. When we submitted our request we included printed literature from Home Depot that depicted the selected paver sort of orange in color. We didn't see it in the paver itself but the picture sort of presented the colors as various shades of bright orange. SHOCKING! isn't it?  This is what they saw:

OK, I've got to admit this is pretty orangie.  The literature says it's shades of brown but it definitely looks more orange than brown. This picture was taken in late afternoon sunlight when we get direct sunlight on our front entrance. I had no mountains to photograph so thought I'd get a photo of the sample paver as it would appear in our alcove. Not sure I could convince them it's not orange with this one. So I put this photo in file 13. The committee will not see this photo. I went out this morning and took new photos that did not have direct sunlight and showed how we pictured the paver design and colors blending in with the brick facade:

Hopefully, this gives a kinder and gentler appearance so the committee doesn't have to fear that Home Depot is opening up an annex at our address with a logo like accented entrance way. If it works, I only have my scrapbooking skills to thank.  I guess I could have made a header page for it, something like the bottom photo with the headline, "NOT ORANGE!" but I suppose that would have been pushing it. We'll see what happens when they consider with the new updated application. In the meantime, I guess I'll just keep on scrapping!

The Lost Art of Compromise

Drove 588 miles yesterday from NC to Vero Beach. My travel plan was fairly simple.  I anticipated 600 + miles for the trip but took some routing advice from Sandi's cousin, Bill, and successfully whittled 30 to 40 miles or so off the Yahoo mileage directions. I hoped to average about 60 mph because most of the trip was on interstate.  According to the Sorento's travel computer we averaged 62 mph with 9 hrs 27 mins driving time. We targeted a departure time of 6 am and actual time was 6:17. We hoped for late afternoon arrival considering we would have to stop to eat a couple of times, stop for fuel and a few rest breaks to get out and stretch a little. We arrived at our Vero destination at 5:07 pm so we were pretty close to target. I was also hopeful that I could maintain the posted speed limits + 4 or 5 mph and considering all the travel together, back roads shortcut through a few traffic lights and speed limits ranging from 25 to 50 mph, along with interstate speed limits of 65 to 70 mph with lower levels through construction areas and urban areas, the 62 mph result came out pretty close to the goal.

Driving can be boring. I worked in trucking dispatch for 36 years but never drove over the road. I don't know how road drivers do it. I give them a lot of credit for being able to put up with the bone head drivers that are on the roads these days.  And they have to do it day after day! A 588 mile trip for a road driver is just a day's work. But while I admire their stamina and skill, I don't like to be on the road with them. Simple physics says contact between my 4000 Lb Sorento and a fully loaded 80,000 Lb semi is going to result in semi score = 1, Sorento score = 0. Not good odds in my book. So I try to stay away from them as much as possible. I will speed up, slow down, move over a lane, and do whatever it takes to give them the room to do what they want to do and give me the room to have some peace of mind that neither of us will have any encounters other than passing the other by.  Truckers, of course, aren't the only vehicles to contend with.  All ages, all genders, all races, all whatevers are out there and at times it seems their goals when they set out that morning are to screw up my driving plans. Many of them don't seem to know how to use cruise control. So they speed up, they slow down, they fluctuate at any speed except one consistent level. I go to pass them, they speed up. I pull over to let them pass, they swerve in front of me and slow down. They weave from lane to lane, frequently with a phone stuck to their ear and S-curve their way down the highway like a Nascar driver waiting for a restart at Daytona.

Despite all these observations, I try to keep my political views under the dashboard. That is, few of the other vehicles see my middle finger or thumb/first digit LOSER displays because I don't display them high enough above window height for any offenders to see. You never know when one screwball thinks the right to bear arms means he not only can drive like a jerk;  he might also think he can shoot anybody who trips his road rage trigger. I don't want to be his (or her) target. But I do have political views while I'm driving. Especially nowadays when our duly elected politicians in Washington are having such a difficult time coming to an agreement on how to resolve the debt crisis.  I understand it's no simple process and we can't equate our household budget scenarios to the vast and complex economy of the nation, not to mention how our economy can and will affect the global economies. But when I'm driving on Interstate 95 through South Carolina climbing a hill and trying to pass a semi struggling to maintain 60 mph on the incline and some doofus in a Malibu pulls right up on my ass in drafting position and starts flicking his high beams at me, I can't help thinking that whoever this idiot is has obviously lost the art of compromise. My first inclination in this situation is to tap on my brake to shock the beegeezus out of him but I'm not going to do that, I'm just going to fantasize about it for a moment or two. I will frequently just sit there a little bit and let him stew but not for too long a time. I'll give him my right directional just to let him know I will be moving over as soon as I get a safe distance past the truck. But just as often, that's not quick enough for the idiot who will swerve to the right and then pass me on the right in spite of my directional.  So to keep my sense of humor and my own road rage urges in line, I think to myself that Malibu-moron is like the politician who goes to Washington with his goals lined up in a neat little row and refuses to take any body else's view under consideration. He has PRINCIPLES  by golly and he's not going to let some Sorento or semitrailer or Democrat or Republican or anybody else who gets in his way deter him from accomplishing his goals. It's mind over matter...he doesn't mind and the rest don't matter. His way or the highway.

Kind of a simple little analogy, I know, but it keeps me amused while driving down the road while keeping my mind on the driving at the same time. I'm not interested in finding blame against Democrats or Republicans, Congress vs. Senate, President Obama, liberals, conservatives, Tea Party, or whatever. But I'll say this. I drove 588 miles yesterday and compromised my butt off the whole way to accommodate other drivers and people sharing the road with me. If I can do it, the people we've sent to Washington can do it too. I don't expect them to vote on every little thing exactly the way I want them to. They can't please all of us 100 % of the time.  But they better learn to negotiate and compromise and get something done on this debt crisis PDQ and those that don't can kiss my vote goodbye. And they can kiss my road-weary butt while they're at it.

Alaska Tour Picture Tease

Sandi and I recently returned from a 15 day land and cruise tour of Alaska.  In a word, it was AWESOME!  But, of course, a word is not enough to describe the eye candy scenery and sights.  I was tempted to photograph every mountain, every waterfall, every critter, every iceberg, every glacier, every dog sled puppy at every turn. But I'm more disciplined than that.  I only took about 1800 pictures or so. I put them on discs to store and organize (sort of organize) in case anybody wants us to join them in their living room for a narrated slide show.  Come on, don't be bashful...you know you want to see them!

Obviously, some of you live quite a ways from us in Florida so you may think you're out of danger range for us to visit. Keep in mind that Sandi and I love to travel. Especially to places where the room and board is free. HAVE DISCS, READY TO TRAVEL is our slogan. In the meantime, you'll just have to be satisfied with the pictures included in this posting. So sorry to tease you like this but pending your invitation it's the best we can do. First priority for pictures in Alaska? CRITTERS!!  Here's just a few:



Moose birthing two calves



Dahl sheep



Fox on side of road napping



'da bear



Another moose drinking in the river...Daddy moose?

Can't really call sled dog puppies "critters" because they're so darned cute.

We drove 92 miles into Denali National Park on a school bus over a gravel surfaced road with no guard rails. Pretty severe drop offs to get the blood pumping.

This gave a nice view of the road ahead




This is the view from our window on the left side of the bus.




With millions of square miles of wilderness, mosquitoes thrive and are almost big enough to be classified as critters in their own right. We stayed in a lodge in Kantishna, 92 miles inside Denali Park that supplied head nets to each guest for protection.





Sandi in fine Kantishna fashion!





Lots of  woods with lots of standing water = perfect world for mosquitoes



Mountain views



I thought this was a huge mountain...



Until this one peeked through the clouds behind it. Mount McKinley from the ground.

Mount McKinley from the air...it is absolutely astonishing when you see it...20320 feet elevation!!

The rest of these pictures were taken while on the second half of the tour on the cruise portion.



Hubbard glacier as seen from the cruise ship




Hubbard glacier up close and personal



Engines pulling our White Pass Railway trip out of Skagway



The harbor at Skagway in the distance as we climb the mountains into British Columbia



Launching apparatus for the Icy Point Zip Line, longest and fastest zip line in the world!

Sandi after the zip line vertical drop of 1300 ft, 5330 ft long, 60 mph.  After the bus ride into Denali, this was a piece of cake!

Nobody can go to Alaska and not have their picture taken in front of a totem pole.



Me and Sarah. No I did not have my hand on her butt...she was just cardboard!




Our group with JOHN HALL'S ALASKA CRUISES & TOURS.



Yes, got pictures of whales, bald eagles, seals, otters, and other critters but I'm still organizing everything. Hope to have it all ready in time to make a good presentation in your living room.

I've Got Another Think Coming

I haven't posted anything in awhile. Don't seem to be able to think of subjects interesting enough to post. I don't think it's because I've got writer's block. I haven't vegged out or anything, at least not full time. I have my moments when the view from inside my head is more or less blank but I usually snap out of it in time to avoid walking into the wall or driving the Sorento into a ditch. Usually. Yesterday I stopped off at the post office to mail a letter and in maneuvering the Sorento down an incline and simultaneously turning right I drove over a curb. And I think of myself being an excellent driver! But this wasn't because of a lapse of consciousness or anything...it was just lousy driving.  I was thoroughly ashamed of myself.  I don't accept lightly any thoughts that I may be turning into one of those "senior drivers" we all like to curse at and complain that they're "too damn old to be driving and should get off the road." I realize that publishing this mishap could result in branding myself for life but if anyone reading this is so inclined to judge me as incorrigibly deficient as a driver, I submit the following:

1) No damage was done to curb or Sorento
2) No other persons were involved or disturbed in any way.
3) I berated myself verbally with cursing and insults.
4) I was embarrassed enough that had I had one of those hand-held chain whips I would have flagellated my back. Thankfully, I don't have one.
5) After I confessed my driving transgressions to my wife later in the day, she confessed that she had done the exact same thing (although not at the same location) and, get this...she had a flat tire this morning! I'm not gloating. Just trying to put all this into perspective; obviously her driving error was more severe than mine.
6) I rest my case

Back to the writing drought. I don't know why I've slacked off on posting my blogs. Either of them. On my genealogy blog, MY SEARCH GOES ON, I posted one a few weeks ago, April 23rd to be exact, about my search for my maternal grandmother's brother who lived in Allentown, PA. I finished about as much as I could find well over a week ago, found some interesting relatives and expanded my source info on that branch and generation of the family and have moved on to other branches. I feel obligated to post again with my findings but just haven't gotten around to it. Lazy I guess. One reason I might feel obligated is due to the fact that I now have a calling card that sort of advertises that blog and my personal info. I had calling cards as an officer in the Army. I had calling cards the entire time I was employed in trucking. They were a traditional and official tool used to identify oneself and clarify one's title. Well, I'm not official anything anymore now that I'm retired, but there is a good reason why I have some now. I had ordered something online a month or so ago (I can't even remember what I ordered) but it included a free set of calling cards (box of 250) that I could design with their templates and, get this, a free T-shirt with the same design! How cool is that?! My wife thinks I'm nuts. Maybe I am, but you know what? I've got calling cards, I've got a matching T-shirt, and they were freeeee!  Cost = zero!

I've got 248 cards left if anybody wants one. I really don't have much use for them but they're kind of neat so I've put some into my old and now unused calling card holder. Just in case.  I used to keep my calling cards in the holder in my suit jacket pocket. Now I don't wear a suit jacket anymore.


So I've got more things to think up that are worthy of posting but I'm never sure when that will happen. I do a lot of thinking when I'm out on my walks. A lot of times I lock onto a thought that I think would be interesting to post on my blog(s). But a lot more times I forget about whatever fantastic subject matter had come to mind because I don't stay on one subject for very long. Scatter-brained describes me perfectly. Lately I've been thinking about our upcoming Alaska tour and trying to strategize how to pack for it. We're trying to condense our baggage into as few pieces as possible to save on airline fees. We're taking a 15 day tour combining 8 days on land and 7 days on a cruise. Attire required for both does not necessarily overlap so condensing is a challenge. Now we're not saying exactly when the tour takes place because security of our home and property when we're gone, I'm told, should not be broadcast publicly on forums like blogs and Facebook.  All I can say about that is that if anyone thinks they know when we're going and think about breaking into our home, I hope they'll have the decency to not step on my pet snakes, especially the poisonous ones, because we'll be letting them out of the cages to roam free inside the house while we're gone. And if you think they won't want to come and greet you with a nice big kiss, then you've got another think coming!




                                                                     

Nothing I Can Say

It feels like I've been holding myself back from making political comments on this blog.  Perhaps my instincts to muffle my political opinions are the best instincts I have.  Best, in the sense that I've always tried to maintain the policy that the more you keep your mouth shut, the less chance there is of sticking your foot into it. I don't know who originated that thought but it has always seemed like a good policy to embrace. Probably more so because my opinions expressed in a public forum like Google Blogs are impossible to take back. I don't have the time, the energy, or the staff of assistants ready and willing to put the right spin on something I might say that I didn't think about before I said it. And I don't spend a lot of time editing any of the blogs I post for anything other than spelling.  Yes, it's true, I don't like misspellings in published writing, especially when the writer is me.  What can I say?  I was raised on phonics so I'm eternally hooked on proper spelling.

Donald Trump's recent verbal vomiting,  first about Obama's "missing" birth certificate,  and subsequently about the president's "questionable" qualifications for entries into Columbia and Harvard Law School, is one of the issues I've been straining to withhold from my blahs.  What a freaking bird-brain platform from which to start an exploration into national politics! If that's what it is. I'm not so sure. It may be just his efforts at self promotion and even a dummy like me knows he is a master at promoting himself. But anybody who thinks that The Donald  has even one ounce of the qualifications required to be President is missing a screw somewhere. Which leads me to my point and my political agenda in this blog...nothing I can say is going to change your mind. No matter how many screws in your head are loose.

I myself am a master at something too. A master of jumping on the bandwagon of ideas that sound good to me when I hear them. I thought Obama's comment about "circus barkers" was very close to the mark in describing his most recent critic. Before he used that description I had read an editorial that put the label of "clown" on The Donald.  I thought that was the more accurate of the two but they both worked in my mind and I embraced them in my pool of opinions about the Trumpmeister (that tag is mine but anyone is welcome to use it). But again, if you've already hooked your wagon to DaDon's circus train, nothing I can say is going to change your mind.  Mr. Trump is a great entertainer. I am a fan who watches Celebrity Apprentice like clockwork. I even stayed in one of his hotels once. So I've got nothing against the guy other than to say I think he should stick to those things he knows best...TV entertainment, family nepotism, and real estate.

Conspiracies are alluring.  I don't know why but I know one when I see one.  I never had any doubt that the "birthers" were ignorant of the facts but I recognize how intriguing it can be to see a few clues, some true, others not so true,  all fall into place and blend together into a juicy, radical, gossipy-sort of theory that would perk up the ears of any of us. The point where conspiracies can become mean spirited is, in my opinion, where most of us disconnect our wagons and recognize the conspiracy for what it is...bullshit.  But there are some who cannot disconnect.  There will be people who go to their graves believing that Obama was born outside the United States.  Nothing I can say or anyone can say will change their minds. Same with any whose curiosity has been aroused about The Trumpster's shots across the stern regarding Obama's scholastic performance. The implication seems to be that a guy who graduated from Harvard Law magna cum laude (that means he done good) perhaps wasn't qualified to go there! It makes me wonder if the same "team of investigators" that TheTrumplator sent to Hawaii for the certificate search are the same buffoons investigating Obama's scholastic records.  Someone needs to tell TheHairHead that he can call off the investigators. Not because it's bullshit. This investigation, if there is one, falls into the category of who gives a shit!?!  Wonder what class at the Wharton School Trumplestiltskin missed when they explained what magna cum laude meant?  The truth is, again, nothing I can say will change anybody from believing what they want to believe. Even if it's BS. So that's enough said.

Roll Out The Barrels

I received the plaque below from my fellow aviators in the 1st Platoon of the 175th Assault Helicopter Company in February 1972. It was a tradition to issue plaques to all departing members of the unit that were tongue in cheek in nature with inscribed narratives relating some of the humorous and dumb events that transpired during our tours.  The plaques were always awarded in the Officers Club in a semi-official ceremony that resembled a roast more than anything else. It also gave us a good excuse to drink too much and brag about how we were the best pilots Vietnam. Our motto was OUTLAWS RULE THE DELTA!  Included in the list of my heroic accomplishments as an Outlaw pilot was one of the last lines on the inscription which read,  "THE ONLY "P" TO USE A BARREL TO PRE-FLIGHT THE 42."

The "P" stands for "Peter-Pilot," a title assigned to all newly assigned pilots in the platoon. When I was a "P" one of my assignments on each aircraft pre-flight inspection was to check out the tail rotor gear assembly on the UH-1D helicopter (known as the "Huey"). The tail rotor gear shaft assembly was situated at the end of a drive shaft and was configured at a 42 degree angle from the horizontal shaft. In our lingo, that was simply, "the 42."

The 42 was situated about 8 feet or so above the ground and could best be inspected by standing on the "stinger" which was a metal rod extending out underneath the aircraft tail, designed to prevent the tail rotor from striking the ground if the ship approached the ground with too severe a "tail-down" attitude. When you have short legs like I do, standing on the stinger is not a problem. Getting up onto the stinger is another story. My solution was to grab the nearest empty 55 gallon drum, drums in plentiful supply around the revetments where our Hueys were parked, roll it over and under the stinger, climb up and stand on the drum and use it as a stepping stone to then stand on the stinger and perform the inspection.  I thought it was a brilliant solution. My platoon members thought it was humorous. I kind of agreed and got a kick out of their mentioning it on the plaque but in general I just thought it was an expedient solution to perform a task and that was that.

That may be true. Then again, maybe not. I never knew what was originally inside those empty 55 gallon drums.  Never gave it a second thought. Until the other day when I had my annual physical at the VA.  The VA physician was informed about my MDS diagnosis and had done extensive blood tests with results similar to the recent results my hematologist/oncologist had obtained. Knowing I was a Vietnam vet, the physician asked me if I had signed up for the Agent Orange Registry. It's possible my MDS was caused by agent orange. And here's an interesting note: agent orange got it's name from the fact that it was stored and transported in 55 gallon drums with an orange stripe painted on them. I don't remember seeing orange stripes on the drums I used for my 42 inspections but that was 40 years ago! You never know. I'm set up to go back to the VA next month for an exam for the Agent Orange Registry. It will not determine if agent orange caused my MDS. But it might help define my qualification for disability benefits.  We'll see what happens. In the meantime rest assured if I have reason to climb up on any 55 gallon drums I will make sure I know what was inside them before they became empty.

MDS Numbers Update

Had my hematology/oncology appointment Thursday with blood work to see how my MDS is doing. White blood cell count up a little bit, red blood cell count down a little bit but even though both are lower than "normal" range they aren't moving much.  That's a good thing. Platelet counts dropped a bunch on this test but no clue why.  The doctor questioned me thoroughly on any signs of bruising or bleeding easily. Kind of hard to define "easily" so showed her a scraped knee and a recent scar on the back of my hand that I'd gotten from a dog's nails. Neither impressed her as anything to worry about and I wasn't overly concerned about them either. So the platelet count was low (65.0 vs normal range 140 - 400) but I still have no symptoms associated with MDS or anything else for that matter. My wife told the doctor that I nap a lot and that's true. Usually in front of the TV either in the afternoon or, more often, at night. But that's nothing new so, again, we're not looking at my occasional snoozes as being a sign of anything worse than just being a boring old guy who can nap at the drop of a hat.

So the game plan continues to be watch and wait for awhile. I go back in two months to check the numbers again.  And in the meantime, no restrictions beyond common sense (not always my strongest suit, but what the heck) and that means a green light for some upcoming travel and excursion plans.