Kathryn Feller’s younger son died on Sunday; I am getting ready to just sit with her today, almost ready to leave. But I have to write something first, in case a meteorite hits me or a gigantic semi.

I saw deep and honest pain etched on someone’s face today – pain that I am partially responsible for its being there. He said someone didn’t have to go to so much trouble to help him because he had gotten himself in the mess.

Having an idea that intense stress hormones are not real great on developing cells and that less than enthusiastic interaction during the first meeting of the world, alone with one other person is indoubtably

I saw a Bible reference yesterday; this one:

Philippians 4:8 Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

And, in the back of my mind, I think about it off and on. It is not the first time I have seen it, and this is not the first time I have stumbled around it. I think one of the earlier times I dealt with it was when some bright young people said they would not work for companies that dealt with certain not so lovely things. Well, human nature being what it is, ugly things are out there that need managing, maybe involve choosing the lesser of two evils, to be quite blunt about it. Who is going to handle those decisions if nice, smart people turn away. That lesser of two evils thing is not unlike fairness in the real world. It may not be perfect, but at least someone tried to do the best by everyone.

This general idea came to mind again when a high school counselor recommended a school and said it was the first to have a Peace Program. That’s fine, but are those students in that major more moral than the graduates of West Point?

What I’m getting at here, and it’s a long way around my barn, is I think we all should look for the best, but keep our eyes open to seeing what else exists. Chances out we can’t do much about it and fretting about the world defeats the purpose of actually living your life. Still, a compartmentalized awareness I think is important.

Somehow, after thinking about this, I went to look up some fact about Bing Crosby and Christmas songs and happened on John Wayne and something he said. I was going to paraphrase it, but kept deleting, so I sighed and went back and found something I could rip off with copy and paste:

Tomorrow is the most important thing in life. Comes into us at midnight very clean. It’s perfect when it arrives and it puts itself in our hands. It hopes we’ve learnt something from yesterday

I think he’s talking about not looking for trouble but to recognize what may come. Actually, that’s too simple a summation, but monologues can only go on so long, and I imagine this one has hit that line.

Well . . . I don’t know. I thought I was here; I thought I wrote this post about whatever; but, now that I look back, I believe I may have written a great post in my head while I was stacking wood. Sigh, I guess that’s the world’s lost.

I have wood stacked mostly everywhere and the mostly is about to be filled because ANOTHER LOAD IS COMING! I need a woodshed. You know, I think I have not truly appreciated the meaning of woodshed – even though it is staring at me in plain English; I always kept it in mind as a place to take a kid behind.

And I’ve been thinking a lot about someone I don’t see very often anymore – so maybe it’s a good thing another load is coming because you get a lot of time by yourself when you’re stacking wood. And if your throat gets tight and your breath kind of ragged for a bit or so, the slow pace of toting a log from one spot to can accommodate it.

I buy things online. It is easy and I am selective, often waiting until a retailer of a product I really do buy and use offers me a very good deal.

The Yankee Candle Company is one. First of all, I  realize that burning candles is in a way burning money and I need to have a good reason for doing so. I consider the quality of my home atmosphere a good one and scents have been proven to affect mood. For the most part, I will burn a candle from this company because the product is  high quality and the scent listings include numerous and often detailed evaluations. and, often, detailed, detailed reviews. I know what we like and what has a good, clean throw. I have found some scents that do an excellent job of neutralizing some musty odors that hang around the room a dog prefers in the rainy season. I have learned to fight the urge to buy a candle because it sports a really enticing name. I mean, the name Casablanca may make me think of romantic and noble speeches at a rainy airport and trench coats . . . but it is probably going to be very hard to smell the mood set by Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, Claude Rains and  . . . oh, who was that actor that lit two cigarettes at once and gave one to Bette Davis in “Now Voyager?” (Maybe I should sniff some peanut butter and look at the measurement results – see previous post.)

As a repeat customer, YCC periodically offers me two candles for the price of one and a $5 flat shipping. That’s cheaper than a Wal-Mart price. I just have to be patient and plan ahead, and, given the weight of candles, it is a very good shipping deal. I could not drive to the YCC store in Fort Wayne for that price, not to mention toting all those glass jars and wax out of the store, through the parking lot and then to my doorstep all by myself.

Shoes are another example. At my age I like the dependability of a good fit. If you bide your time, you can get a new exercise/walking shoe exactly like the one that has been such a comfortable fit for a slashed price. You can check lots of sites looking for what you need without having to go from mall to mall or store to store  only to be told it’s last season’s model or they don’t have your size. . . and it’s easier on your shoe leather. Okay, I probably am pushing the  punny stuff a bit too much.

While I’m at it, let me mention Crate & Barrel. Can you say flat shipping fee, excellent packing, high quality glassware, lots of reviews and prices again cheaper than Wal-Mart?

Often these sites will ask you to participate in a survey about your online experience and satisfaction with the product. Every now and then, I will agree because, well, why not? I got a good deal.

Today I got a phone call from a nice lady with a “foreign phone bank” accent telling me I had been selected to receive free samples and a $100 shopping card plus a $50 restaurant credit.  I told her thank  you, but no because I felt this could probably be a tricky little scam (I didn’t actually say “scam’) and if computer analysis had flagged my purchases marking me a careful shopper of quality products, I would think they would send me an email with all the fine print right there to be zoomed in on.

I could understand someone hearing “free samples” and “shopping card” and “discounted eats” and thinking, Well, if they want to send me stuff, why not? I suspect they do send you free samples . . . and then maybe they bill you $15 for shipping & handling each time. Some things aren’t too good to be true – such as Lands End $50 jeans for $7.50 . . . but, my father was one for getting the facts straight and in writing . . . or, at least in this Internet age, the facts in a fax. (Oh, Lord, the weirdness is getting a foothold.)

So, Robert Grismore, it’s a little thing, but I think I answered the survey question, “Are you a gullible nutball?” question okay.  I think  I need to work on the nutball part some more, though.

Paul Heinreid! He was the cigarette lighter and his character was Victor Lazlo. It just now came to me and I thought I’d share it. By the way, the cafe singing of La Marseillaise is always worth remembering.

Ah, well, Der Bingle sent us an article about peanut butter being a pure odorant and possibly can be used as a predictor for Alzheimer’s Disease. It may get a little tense around here as nostril to jar measurements are bandied back and forth. We expect to be contacted about a clinical trial.

It would have been better if the article had been about high peanut butter consumption being equated to low incidence of . . . uh, what was I talking about?

Of course there have always been little articles in magazines – especially the old Reader’s Digests – focusing on a condition, psychological or physical and posing a series of questions to see where you fit on the “I’m okay for the next few months” vs. “I’m going to die tomorrow” or “I will probably make it through life without murdering someone” vs. “Gee, where did I leave the butcher knife?”

Okay, it wasn’t usually that dramatic, but you get the idea. And now with the Internet. Saints preserve us. “Ten signs you might be _______. Circle a number between 1 and 5.” And then there are the online IQ tests, which I don’t talk about since I once took one and got a 76. I think it’s time to move on now . . .

Or maybe not, because I have to find a list that asks this question: If your glass is too full to hold any more ice cubes, do you you stick four or five in your pocket for later? Yes, I did this – this very morning. It actually worked out fine, well, if you don’t count the lint in my sweatshirt’s pouch pocket. It just seems a bit off; but is it crazy or (76) stupid slow?

Oh, good night, nurse . . . a couple of the folks here put up their little hands and asked if “both of the above” is a possible answer. Makes me want to bang my head against the wall . . . which could explain the 76, come to think of it. A little redhead reading over my shoulder just asked in awe, “You can think?”

Ah, here’s a hint to my purpose in life: Shane just dropped a Wubba in my lap.

On the way home from Fort Wayne, I drove down Main Street to see what was playing at the Strand and one of the movies was Gravity. I decided I’d go and I did, even bought popcorn and a drink. Before I turned my cell phone off, I took pictures of my popcorn, my drink and the blank screen (with one lady’s head shadowed against it) to prove that I was there.

I don’t believe there was any point in that.

Sandra Bullock was very good; I just don’t know if the movie was. I definitely liked the popcorn and raspberry tea, though.

Okay, I was just resting here and staring at my lower leg and for some reason I thought about the old lament: Oh, if we could only see ourselves as others see us.

Yesterday my phone produced nothing but garble for those listening on the other end. So, alarmed, I went to the Sprint store and they tested it and looked at each other, went and got their own iphones and called from them and people heard garble.  They believed the network was overwhelmed by the tens of thousands of people who did come to Apple Festival. I had noticed that traffic was extremely heavy on the main route I normally take and came home a back way that looks like you’re going into an abandoned factory area, but at the last minute the road turns and there you are, a block away from the bubbing hub- or the hubbing bub. Whatever.

By the time I got out of the store, I could tell the temperature had climbed as the fog dissipated and I decided I would wait until Sunday to go over to the Apple Festival. You see, being just 5′ tall is not too nifty when you are in a winding, massive crowd that is hemmed in by permanent buildings and temporary vendors’ kiosks. If you are in the middle, you see nothing and if the temperature is above 70, you pretty much feel as if you are in a winter mitten. If you are on the outside, you risk being knocked into hay stacks, poles, buildings and people trying to stand to the side to eat their food that they stood in line 30 minutes for.

It’s not that it’s intolerable if you are alone and have a couple of destinations in mind, but if you have someone with you, it is necessary to have physical contact. One year I negotiated such a setting with Summer attached to my shirt tail, which had started out tucked in.

So today: cooler with maybe a shower. I can do showers. I got myself ready to go – even if I could not find a companion – and opened the door. It was pouring down rain. I still thought, maybe . . . in a rain slicker with a hood.  Then I heard that hint of a wheeze in my chest that is just now starting to clear after a week of antibiotics and I thought of wet feet and how crummy it was coughing through the night. I hesitated; I believe my mind was scurrying around for still another excuse, because after all, adventures are really fun and provide great stories, and I felt my knee throb. I suspect I usually ignore it, but wimpdom was hovering over me and I watched the puddles form and decided to sit down. I looked at weather.com and rain is to be on and off, but mostly on.

Now I am feeling guilt and  this urge to go in these conditions is pushing me. My father would exclaim, “Well, if you want to just go out there and get sick . . .  Nobody could ever tell you anything.” Actually, he only said the last part once, but, boy, it has stuck with me and I feel bad about being dumb and arrogant and my daddy having to see it all those years. Reminds me of the time I talked about a convertible . . . “Well, if you want to go out there and ask to be killed . . .”

I’m off topic – it seems; but, of course, in my heart I’m not.

Damn. The more miserable it seems out there, the more I am drawn to going over and standing 5 feet tall in a massive huddle of wet people seeking shelter in the swine barn. Maybe I can entice Summer into going. Kind of use the backdoor way of persuasion – “Oh, you’d have to be stupid to do that. Imagine getting dripping wet for a Bayou Billy CherryWine! Dumbies.” You see, I once told her, “You remind me of what my father said about me once: Nobody could ever tell you anything. I was trying to help her learn from my mistakes . . . but, well,  she’s young, a cold won’t stop her . . . and her knees are fine.

Oh, dear, I feel the presence of THIS LOOK coming down on me. The look that I know translates into the constantly repeated, “Use  your own good judgement and don’t let anyone talk you into doing anything you know you shouldn’t do.” But, then, again, nobody could ever tell me anything . . .