Spiritual GPS???

Okay, my friends, another entry from the journal . . .

Thursday, November 11, 2004 7:34 AM
A little bit of the sleepless-in-the-middle-of-the-night last night, and the ensuing
‘will-I-panic’ thoughts. The time when I’m forced to consider what are the boundaries of the world. What keeps the cart on the track? Day to day, I have nothing but assurance that life is as it should be. It is just those times, usually in the middle of a semi-sleepless night, when I doubt the things that I usually accept. Kind of hard to describe, but the feeling is an irrational fear that none of the things that I know as true will be sufficient to keep me – hold me – in place. ‘Place’ meaning that you are in alignment with all of the connections, assumptions (etc.) that identify the world for you. Almost like you must hold a position in space – like a planet – for the alignment of things to have meaning. If you slip a little out of that alignment the interrelationship of everything is thrown off and then a doorknob is no different from a verb or a cousin or a Christmas morning. What is needed is a serious piece of machinery – a spiritual GPS.
I guess that is what I end up reaching for when I’m thinking of - ?
I think of Dad. I think that, in a way, I carve a little stone god of him – or at least whittle a little wooden god of him – and put it up on the windowsill as a totem or a good luck charm. In the most basic way, I am placing my trust in my idea of him. I am desperately asking him for guidance.
I’m one of those people who begins to gag when I listen to evangelical preachers (or whatever fundamentalist types) talk about that absolute faith in the words written down in the Bible. It all just seems so weak-minded. But in the middle of the night (wow, there’s a metaphor that’s hardly been used) sometimes the mind – the intellect - doesn’t seem like a strong enough - or absolute enough - post to hold onto.

I try my hand at technical writing . . .

When our toaster oven died a few years ago I bought a simple sort of retro looking toaster from the supermarket. If “died” is too anthropomorphic a term, how about “ceased functioning"? Sorry. Anyway, the retro looking toaster works just fine although things like English muffins lay too far down in the slots to be easily retrieved when the toasting has been accomplished. My solution to this problem is to give the raising/lowering/toasting handle (hereinafter called the Master Toasting Lever) a rapid partial lowering immediately followed by a rapid raising against the upper handle stop. The momentum imparted to the toasted halves of the English muffin causes them to be carried up and out of the top of the toaster. A deft grab usually prevents one of the halves from falling back into the toaster. I have never managed to grab both halves on the fly at the same time. A repeat of the lowering and raising of the Master Toasting Lever is required to retrieve the remaining muffin half. A too-vigorous performance of this routine may result in the remaining muffin half becoming airborne, as was the case this morning. The second half landed on the counter and rolled – as disc-like objects are prone to do – behind a flowerpot next to the sink. It would make this little story almost worthwhile if the muffin had come to rest in a pool of water by the sink. Wow, wouldn’t that have been ironic, after all that work? When I located it behind the flowerpot this was what I feared, but no! Happy Ending – the muffin was dry and now it has been buttered, slathered with Boysenberry preserves and eaten. Thanks for letting me tell you that.

Small Pleasures

A group of short consecutive entries in my journal:

12/27/05
My father was a giant of a man, well over five feet tall.

January 8, 2006
Yah – life is good. I’m sitting at the counter in the kitchen, morning light streaming in through the South-east facing windows and door.

1/20/06
I had a dream that I was being hanged. By the neck. Until dead.
In the dream I was thinking, “You’re about to find out what it is like to die”

How I spent my summer fixation

Uh-oh, another Ebay boat. An Eboat. I bought a sailboat on Ebay last Fall. It's what we call a 'project' boat. I've been working on it, pulling parts off, building new parts, getting missing parts - sometimes finding them on Ebay. While searching for parts a couple of weeks ago I came across another boat for sale. Same mfgr., same model and - surprise, surprise - in better shape.
This one was 400 miles away, though, instead of just around the corner like Eboat #1. A highly qualified friend made the trip with me to fetch the boat. A solid day's labor - no food breaks - got it onto the trailer. Eight hours later (1:30 AM) we were back at the bottom end of New Jersey and called it a day (!!!).

Eboats 1 & 2 are Paceship Westwind sloops designed by Ted Hood. #1 is a 1967 model, hull #13. Eboat #2 pictured here is hull #72, year unknown at this point.

how did i get here?

Got an email from an old friend - Bob Leming - a couple of weeks ago. Just got around to checking out the things he'd linked to in the email, one of which was his new blog.
Right here is where I tell you that "concatenation" is one of my favorite words.
I read the recent posts on Bob's page (The Reckon Crew) and was trying to leave a comment on one of his poems - I was prompted for a username and password - turns out I didn't have those things, which is sort of how I ended up here. I assume that I can now post my comments. And more.
See you around.