Happy Hour


Mother, Mother Ocean

Mother, Mother Ocean, I've heard you call
Wanted to sail upon your waters since I was three feet tall
You've seen it all, you've seen it all
Watched the men who rode you, switch from sails to steam
In your belly you hold the treasures, few have ever seen
Most of 'em dream, most of 'em dream
Yes, I am a pirate, two hundred year's too late
The cannons don't thunder, there's nothin' to plunder
I'm an over-forty victim of fate
Arriving too late, arriving too late


"Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you? Hmm? Hmm. And well you should not. For my ally is the Force, and a powerful ally it is."
―Yoda, to Luke Skywalker

Counted the Stars

Counted the stars on the 4th of July
Wishing we were rockets bursting in the sky
Talking about redemption and leaving things behind
I have these pictures and I keep these photographs
To remind me of a time
These pictures and these photographs
Let me know I'm doin' fine
We used to be so happy once upon a time
Once upon a time
But the sun sank west of the Mendocino County Line
And the sun sank west of the Mendocino County Line


Saturday, April 27, 2013

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

McLennan County, Texas

Seems the picture did not take when I did the original post from my Droid RAZR.

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Listen My Children, And You Shall Hear

It is the anniversary of that most famous ride in American History.
So without further ado.....................................

Paul Revere's Ride

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year. He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower as a signal light,--
One if by land, and two if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country folk to be up and to arm."
Then he said "Good-night!" and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like a prison bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own reflection in the tide.
Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street
Wanders and watches, with eager ears,
Till in the silence around him he hears
The muster of men at the barrack door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers,
Marching down to their boats on the shore.
Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the sombre rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade,--
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town
And the moonlight flowing over all.
Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On a shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay,--
A line of black that bends and floats
On the rising tide like a bridge of boats.
Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horse's side,
Now he gazed at the landscape far and near,
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry tower of the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.
And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns.
A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet;
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.
It was twelve by the village clock
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
He heard the crowing of the cock,
And the barking of the farmer's dog,
And felt the damp of the river fog,
That rises after the sun goes down.
It was one by the village clock,
When he galloped into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
And the meeting-house windows, black and bare,
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
As if they already stood aghast
At the bloody work they would look upon.
It was two by the village clock,
When he came to the bridge in Concord town.
He heard the bleating of the flock,
And the twitter of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadow brown.
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by a British musket ball.
You know the rest. In the books you have read
How the British Regulars fired and fled,---
How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
>From behind each fence and farmyard wall,
Chasing the redcoats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load.
So through the night rode Paul Revere;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm,---
A cry of defiance, and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo for evermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
And the midnight message of Paul Revere.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Burned, again.

Made contact with a very hot air data probe last week..............................It is now photogenic...................
Healing nicely ya know.

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Army chaplain gets posthumous Medal of Honor

From The Eagle on Thursday, 11 April.
I lived in Wichita, Kansas for eleven plus years. Father Kapaun is a big deal there.
Real Hero. No doubt about that at all...............................

— President Barack Obama awarded the Medal of Honor Thursday to an Army chaplain from Kansas who risked his life dodging gunfire to provide medical and spiritual aid to wounded soldiers before dying in captivity more than 60 years ago during the Korean War.
"I can't imagine a better example for all of us, whether in uniform or not in uniform, a better example to follow," Obama said after presenting the nation's highest military award for valor to a nephew of Capt. Emil Kapaun during a ceremony in the White House East Room."

Read more here: http://www.kansas.com/2013/04/11/2756793/army-chaplain-to-get-medal-of.html#storylink=misearch#storylink=cpyRE
Read the rest at the link: http://www.kansas.com/2013/04/11/2756793/army-chaplain-to-get-medal-of.html#storylink=misearch

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Never Was An Arrow



50 years ago

It was actually 50 years ago yesterday.
Thresher was lost, 220 miles due East of Cape Cod.
I was 8 and 1/2 years old at the time and in the 3rd Grade in a little place called Malta, Montana.
I remember the evening news coverage, vaguely. Uncle Walter on the CBS News from KOOK Channel 2 from Billings.
Details, I do not remember but it was Cronkite letting the world know that 129 men had lost their lives in the disaster.
The above link has other links to images of The Good Ship USS Thresher SSN-593.


Tuesday, April 09, 2013

The Wind in The Desert

Sand blowing everywhere.................................
Wind gusts were in the 60 knot range................
CA 14 closed between Rosamond and Lancaster due to blowing sand/dirt. There was a pile up as well from what I heard.
The winds were gusting 70-80 mph at times.
Springtime in The Mojave Desert!!!

Yards stuff from this past weekend.........................

Got the Frog out, built a few planters and put up a metal, painted flag on the cactus barrel.

Sunday, April 07, 2013

Rule 5. Britney Spears.

Yeah, I said that. From the pics in the link and the few I will put here, she is looking rather tasty, if I may say.
Perhaps she has finally matured..........................................Hard to say. But she does look good, except for the damn cigarette.........................
She is looking pretty good these days................................
So hit this here link to get all that is at the Daily Mail!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 Flashing the flesh: The dress was in a mullet style, revealing more of Britney's legs at the front than the back

Working on her tan: Spears enjoyed a cigarette break as she lapped up the rays in her friend's house

Saturday, April 06, 2013

Anyone ever been on reservations in Montana, North Dakota, South Dakota, Wyoming and Nebraska?
Something to Think About (Repost from ATJT)

Something to Think About

Rhythms, Part XIV

Recovering the Alert.
It’s going to be a hot day…
Rhythms, Part XIV, Recovering the Alert

"Sign on, young man, and sail with me. The stature of our homeland is no more than the measure of ourselves. Our job is to keep her free. Our will is to keep the torch of freedom burning for all. To this solemn purpose we call on the young, the brave, the strong, and the free. Heed my call, Come to the sea. Come Sail with me." -- John Paul Jones

Thursday, April 04, 2013

Something I came across today about California

I live here ya know. We have issues with the gene pool as described below.
Can't make any of this up, ya know......................................

“Frankly, I don’t know what it is about California, but we seem to have a strange urge to elect really obnoxious women to high office. I’m not bragging, you understand, but no other state, including Maine, even comes close. When it comes to sending left-wing dingbats to Washington, we’re Number One. There’s no getting around the fact that the last time anyone saw the likes of Barbara Boxer, Dianne Feinstein, Maxine Waters, and Nancy Pelosi, they were stirring a cauldron when the curtain went up on ‘Macbeth’. The four of them are like jackasses who happen to possess the gift of blab. You don’t know if you should condemn them for their stupidity or simply marvel at their ability to form words.”
– Columnist Burt Prelutsky, Los Angeles Times

Rhythms, Part XIII

Rhythms, Part XIII

 A near-midair collision, and the gamble pays off

I will not go down and tell my children I didn't have the courage, the conviction, the commitment or the character to fight for this country...Don't go home and let your children down~~ LTC Allen West

Publius Flavius Vegetius Renatus

‎"Igitur qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum.("Therefore, he who desires peace, let him prepare for war")" from "Epitoma Rei Militaris," by Vegetius (Publius Flavius Vegetius Renatus)