Missed A Week...

...just didn't feel up to it.

But I am truly happy for Ryan, of course.

Peace and happiness may have eluded him during his earthly stay, but they're his in abundance now in heaven.

That joyful truth doesn't shield me from personal regrets, however.

I made too many mistakes, left too much undone and unsaid.

By God's grace he's past all that.

Having laid aside every weight and the sin which so easily besets us, he's now running with perfect patience the race set before him, looking to Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our faith.

And I'm by that mournful day on the calendar for another year; that dark demarcation between then and now.

Time to soldier on.

"Official" Spring sprung last week.  Pretty hard to tell, however, as it snowed that day.

Larry sent me this meme, perfectly illustrating spring here in Michigan:

And I heard on a weather report recently there's still more than 40" of snow on the ground in the U.P.

Thankfully around here we're making some progress in the journey from astronomical to actual spring:

Let's have a round of applause for Miss Daffodil!

She even brought some friends with her...

...at least that's what Karen claims.

Had one of our big windows replaced last week.

Some of these are quite old, and when their seal breaks, condensation gets between the panes and gives them that permanent "hey, are you ever going to wash this window?" look.

It was quite the job getting it out and back in, because after 64 years, things are not necessarily "square" anymore.

Add to that some expected wood rot...

...that needed repair / replacement, and it was a bit of a project.

However, Joe from Excel glass, along with my #2 son and #4 grandson, triumphed in the end:

There is actually glass there, you just can't see it anymore, which fact a bird proved by flying into it shortly after it was installed.

Nice job, gents.  Thank you!

Not too much to report on the hickory golf front.

I hate it when you guys do that

But I did commission a watercolor portrait of my pre-1900 clubs, to wit:

Personally I think the artiste did a credible job, so I broke the bank and commissioned another one:

They look so good I'm almost afraid to use them again.

I said "almost".

Is it that time already?

Let's 23 Skidoo, wildlife edition:

they're early this year...they usually show up when we open the pool

just out for an evening stroll

mom's around somewhere

feeding time

the artiste threw this portrait of Chippy in for free

"The Upper Room Discourse" is recorded in the Gospel of John, chapters 13 through 17.

It's where Jesus and his disciples are observing the Passover, the night before His crucifixion, and He teaches them - and us - many truths about Himself and God's plan for us.

Whenever I think of Ryan's untimely passing, I like to consider the words of Jesus in John 14, verses 1 through 3:

    1    Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in Me.

    2    In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so I would have told you.  I go to prepare a place for you.

    3    And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.

later, mcm fans...

Beware The Ides Of March...

...it could <ruin your whole day>.  

Hopefully you avoided traitorous acquaintances and instead experienced a pleasant early spring morning...

...that you appreciated and used wisely:

Yeah; like that.

I've actually walked several rounds on Ryan's course this past week and it's been quite pleasant after a long winter layoff.

Haven't put any of the flags or signs in place yet - we've still a ways to go before Old Man Winter is chased back into his hole - but won't be too long now.

I mentioned to a friend from work that I recently earned 49 cents of commission because someone in Australia read my Time Slip Island novella...

...on the Amazon Kindle Unlimited program.

A rare occurrence, this was an exciting moment in my life as you might imagine; it meant I could throw away 5 bottles...

...I otherwise would have had to return for deposit.

Don't know about you, but that's the kind of freedom in life for which I'm searching:

To believe in what can be (i.e., throwing pointless stuff away)...

...unburdened by has beens (i.e., so I don't have to deal with them).

I just might run for president some day.

As we approach St. Patrick's Day I've noticed a growing infestation of Irish Gnomes:

he actually bit my hand as I tried to answer the phone...

...and they seem to have a natural camouflage...

...allowing them to blend in with their surroundings.

not positive how they got here but I can see it's time to round up the usual suspect and question her closely re: recent Aldi purchases.

I say we 23 Skidoo quick-a-minute before things get even more out of hand than they are already:

speaking of natural camouflage...

...meet Screech the owl, a resident of Larry's folks' tree.

Kitty lounging in the courtyard

Karen found that fountain, now gracing the courtyard, for $15 at an estate sale

the recent "Blood Moon"...picture taken by a friend of Larry's using her cellphone through her telescope

Saw a T-shirt the other day that opined "Inside every Old Man is a Young Buck wondering what the heck happened".

This is a true sentiment and one that should give us pause.

Moses wrote in Psalm 90..."the days of our years are three score and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labor and sorrow; for it is soon cut off and we fly away".

70 or 80 is about what we get before we shuffle off this mortal coil.

It can be tough to quantify that in an impactful way, so think of this:

If you take your 80 years and put it in terms of one day of consciousness - when you rise at 6 am and fall into bed at midnight - then every 13.5 minutes of your conscious day is 1 year of your life on earth.

I'm 68 as I write this, so for me it's 9:20 pm.  The clock will only tick for another 2 hours and 40 minutes, and then my day is done.

My son Ryan's day ended abruptly at 3 pm; he didn't get those last 9 hours.

On the other hand, Karen's grandmother hung around til 4:30 am the next morning; she had 4 and half more hours than normal.

What time is it for you?

Of course we don't really know; only God knows that.

But we do know how we're to spend the time He's granted us here on earth:

later, mcm fans...

E.P.W.S.

 

...the greatest advertising slogan ever invented.  

The above is an indoor putting green I bought a year ago.  It's basically a few boards cobbled together and some green fabric.

You putt on the fabric, hopefully drop the golf ball in one of the 2 holes, and it's returned to you.

It's completely analog - no power source, no internet connection, no virtual reality - which means you actually have to do something.

Physical.

In the real world.

This automatically excludes pretty much everyone born after 1990 - 

"Do I really want to shell out my hard earned simoleans for something you don't even turn on?"

- so the manufacturer wanted to put some compelling advertising on the package to entice the modern buyer.

Deep in thought, caught on the horns of a dilemma, the punter suddenly spots the clincher, tucked away in the upper right corner of the package:

EPWS...that's it!

[Advertisers know "environment" has become one of those unassailable sacred cows against which no argument can succeed.

They could have also gone with "climate", but that particular trigger word comes with some scary baggage...

...so "environmental protection" it is!]

At first blush it might seem to be a non sequitur, a completely unrelated statement as pertains to putting greens.

My advice:  don't break your brain trying to understand all the scientific intricacies of how this wood and cloth contraption protects the environment, or even how it can achieve that noble goal sans stink.

The key to your enlightenment is acceptance.

In the absence of intellectual comprehension, it becomes as an article of faith:

"This putting green does in fact protect the environment diligently, faithfully, odorlessly and for that we should give our thanks (and $$s)."

Henceforth, remember...when you need to sway the stubbornly skeptical with an argument so ingenious it's impervious to rebuttal:

ESWP.

No wait, that's ESPW.  Dang it!  EPSW?

Ah forget it; you know I mean.

Week #1 of the Unhappy Man diet...

...is in the books, and Karen reminded me this is our 12th year in a row of willfully subjecting ourselves to this ritual torture.

Weighed in at 211 and managed to shed 5 lbs without resorting to any form of amputation or surgery.

But let's face it...the 1st week is always the easiest.

You've set your mind to the task at hand, commitment is high, determination has not yet been buffeted by the harsh winds of deprivation and your certain collision with The Wall is yet future.

So while we may not have breezed through it, we held our own, we're still standing.

And this year we have another arrow in our quiver with which to fight the enemy:  <Walkfit>

We didn't sign up for anything just reviewed the type of exercises they do from a youtube video, and adopted some of them for our own use.

So far this daily workout routine has been ok and seems to be helping.

In my younger days I would have laughed to scorn...

...anyone touting this as a "real" workout.

Marching?  Step back punches?  Knee taps?  Shade pulldowns?

Puh-leez.

However, as I near the close of my 7th decade topside of planet earth, there's no denying my youth has fled like a coward before the schoolyard bully of advancing years.

Sadly, as it hit the exit it took with it those glorious days of 2 hour weight lifting workouts.

Nowadays I settle for an exercise bike and a Total Gym, so this Walkfit program suits us pretty well.

And it’s not as bad as those “walking like a dork” routines from the 80’s when people swung their arms wildly as they double timed it down your sidewalk -

"Mommy, what are they doing?"

"Never mind sweetie, just don't make eye contact."

- but I'm afraid it does shade itself under the same family tree.

As long as no one sees us doing it, I think we'll be okay.

It's bad enough our cats are witnesses - I can tell they’re questioning our position in the pecking order - but so far they haven't told anyone.

We hope.

Before you parachute to safety from the living heckhole that is the AMC, you still have to level up on 23 Skidoo...

that's Ukraine's ambassador Oksana Markarova wishing for a different life as Zelenskyy sabotages his countrymen and proves he's as pointless as that extra "y" in his last name.  <way to listen to the dems, Z!>

I can dream, can't I?

it's been a few years so we decided to re-watch all of the Downton Abbey seasons.  look at that cast of characters!  writer / creator Julian Fellowes endowed each with their own unique history and personality, then seamlessly blended them all together into one overarching, coherent story...amazing.

karen snapped this pic of an early march sunrise while herding cats this week. "are you EVER going to take down the Christmas lights??"  there.  I said it for you.

it looks cold because it is - yes, that's ice on the little pond.  desperate men, doncha know.  but hey, the snow's gone...for now, anyway.

I'm reading through Ecclesiastes in my devotions at the moment.

I firmly believe God included it in His Word as a pointed warning of what life is without "God sense":

A confusing, repetitive, contradictory existence "under the sun".

It's all horizontal, no vertical relationship.

I once heard an atheist college professor claim this was the only book of the Bible he actually understood, and that makes perfect sense.

It's a completely accurate rendering of The Preacher's thought process as he despairs over the pointlessness of achievement, success, wealth, power.

"Vanity of vanities," he laments cynically, "all is vanity!"

Throughout his "trial and error" life journey The Preacher records his observations, and he learns.

By the end of this travelogue - which God in His wisdom preserved for our benefit - The Preacher finally rises above his "life under the sun", "vanity of vanities" limitations and arrives at his destination:

Truth.

later, mcm fans...