... sounds sort of cryptic, but only means the resolution I found so enjoyable last year has been recycled. I had thought early on, back when we were just trying on 2017 for size, to see how it might suit, that I would not make any. Especially since I had failed with the ones from the previous year - trying to decide if I should give another go on those unsuccessful but well intended plans. Or just not bother at all rather than feel like a hopeless mess.
Then I came up with a brilliant plan that was guaranteed to provide excellent results. Feel free to appropriate my grand scheme if you think it might suit your purposes as well. Here is the proposal: Tell all the people you would love to spend more time with you are going to have lunch together. Explain your desire to have lunch at least once a week with someone who makes you laugh. We all have (or should have) lots of people in our lives that we don't see often enough, and keep thinking we should make time in our busy lives to sit and chat over tea, lunch, desserts. Make a date to go to Panera.
I actually kept a record over the year, making a note in the margin of my monthly calendar, from week to week as I had time with entertaining friends and family, people who bring joy just by their presence. Nearly every week of my soon to be tucked away 2017 has someone (or several) that I was deliberate about seeing. Where does not matter, just devoting the time. Be intentional in searching out sources of good endorphins, make an effort to be in the presence of people who bring you joy.
Friday, January 5, 2018
Thursday, January 4, 2018
book review: "Rogue Heroes"...
... author is Ben Macintyre, on the staff of the London Times, published in 2016. I had requested it from the library, knowing it had something to do with WW II and activities in Europe. It went with me when I was traveling this week, even though it is a large, hardback book. When planning to be hauling my clothing around with me, I usually make an effort to stock up on paperbacks, that can be donated or left in the seat pocket on an airplane.
Though I did not remember where the reference came from, or what piqued my attention to make me interested enough to request the book, it was well worth reading. If you are even slightly interested in history of that period, or have a desire to know more about the war in the European theater, you will be fascinated reading this. A very well researched and documented history of the precursor to Special Forces, Green Berets and Seal Teams. The author read many journals, diaries as well as a vast amount of military paperwork, recently declassified, and searched out survivors to conduct first person interviews with some of the individuals involved.
The subtitle on the cover lets the reader know it is "The history of the SAS" and describes the orgins of 'Britian's Secret Special Forces that sabotaged the Nazis and changed the nature of war'. A quote from the middle of the nearly four hundred pages:
"Traditional warfare tends to follow straight lines: advances, retreats, fields of fire, front lines, vanguards, rear guards and points of engagement. The SAS was pioneering a new sort of war, so asymmetrical as to be almost lopsided. Increasingly confident in their tactics and terrain, the independent jeep units selected targets as they appeared, with little deliberate planning. This was war on the hoof, invented ad hoc, unpredictable, highly effective and often chaotic."
These desert pirates were not popular with the chain of command, and tended to buck the system at every opportunity, with their attire, mannerisms, and attitudes. But they were very successful at what they did, point men, behind enemy lines, masters of hit and run missions, joyfully sabotaging German and Italian aircraft, ammo dumps and fuel convoys. They did some parachuting, but most often traveled by jeep over great distances in harsh desert conditions.
As I began to read the book, I realized that there was a series on TV years ago, based on these characters, glorifying their methods and missions in opposing the forces of German General Rommel and the Afrika Korps. My brother loved that show: lots of jeeps driving a break-neck up hundred fot high sand dunes and flying of the top, machine guns blasting away at the bad guys. I thought of him constantly as I read the book.
When I got to the last chapter, I put the book down and did not finish it. When we got to the place where some of the SAS men entered Germany ahead of Allied forces and discovered Bergen Belsen camp, I had to quit reading. It was a very interesting, revealing book that I would highly recommend for anyone interested in the military history.
Though I did not remember where the reference came from, or what piqued my attention to make me interested enough to request the book, it was well worth reading. If you are even slightly interested in history of that period, or have a desire to know more about the war in the European theater, you will be fascinated reading this. A very well researched and documented history of the precursor to Special Forces, Green Berets and Seal Teams. The author read many journals, diaries as well as a vast amount of military paperwork, recently declassified, and searched out survivors to conduct first person interviews with some of the individuals involved.
The subtitle on the cover lets the reader know it is "The history of the SAS" and describes the orgins of 'Britian's Secret Special Forces that sabotaged the Nazis and changed the nature of war'. A quote from the middle of the nearly four hundred pages:
"Traditional warfare tends to follow straight lines: advances, retreats, fields of fire, front lines, vanguards, rear guards and points of engagement. The SAS was pioneering a new sort of war, so asymmetrical as to be almost lopsided. Increasingly confident in their tactics and terrain, the independent jeep units selected targets as they appeared, with little deliberate planning. This was war on the hoof, invented ad hoc, unpredictable, highly effective and often chaotic."
These desert pirates were not popular with the chain of command, and tended to buck the system at every opportunity, with their attire, mannerisms, and attitudes. But they were very successful at what they did, point men, behind enemy lines, masters of hit and run missions, joyfully sabotaging German and Italian aircraft, ammo dumps and fuel convoys. They did some parachuting, but most often traveled by jeep over great distances in harsh desert conditions.
As I began to read the book, I realized that there was a series on TV years ago, based on these characters, glorifying their methods and missions in opposing the forces of German General Rommel and the Afrika Korps. My brother loved that show: lots of jeeps driving a break-neck up hundred fot high sand dunes and flying of the top, machine guns blasting away at the bad guys. I thought of him constantly as I read the book.
When I got to the last chapter, I put the book down and did not finish it. When we got to the place where some of the SAS men entered Germany ahead of Allied forces and discovered Bergen Belsen camp, I had to quit reading. It was a very interesting, revealing book that I would highly recommend for anyone interested in the military history.
about my brother...
... though there is not much to report, we continue to have hope. I told them before we left the ICU waiting area on Wed. evening: you have to be optimistic, and hope for the best, but season that with a pinch of realism. When we left Virginia last night, there was no new news. The surgeon had not come back around to check on him and give an update, so our hearts were still hanging on to the positivity we were diligently practicing.
Everything you can think about opening up the bones that keep your gray matter in place is scary. The idea of putting your loved ones' life and sensibilities into the hands of a complete stranger will always be anxiety inducing. You have to have a lot of trust in order to accept a diagnosis and agree to the options they recommend for resolution. Humans are human, imperfect, fallible. It is a frightening prospect to turn a husband, father over to the medical personnel - see them wheeled away and disappear through the swinging doors...
The medical staff were instructed to do scans of his head overnight, to have images for radiology to interpret, provide updated info. when the surgeon comes for early morning rounds. There was concern he might have had a stroke during surgery, but that apparently did not occur. I missed hearing the report first hand on Wednesday morning, but continue to hope for improvement. Wednesday morning, was weaned off sedatives that induced a sort coma, to keep him immobile. Then taken off respirator, so he is, I think, breathing on his own. Slowly coming around...
It is safe to assume the process would have been the same today, with scans done in the wee hours, images read and report ready for surgeon on arrival. Ironic to think that the patient is sleeping much better than his anxious family, camping out on hard couches in ICU waiting area. It takes days for all the anesthesia to get out of your system, longer if you are not active, moving around to increase blood circulation. After such a risky surgery, they knew to expect to he would be in ICU for several days, to be closely monitored and easily accessible if urgent care was needed.
Everything you can think about opening up the bones that keep your gray matter in place is scary. The idea of putting your loved ones' life and sensibilities into the hands of a complete stranger will always be anxiety inducing. You have to have a lot of trust in order to accept a diagnosis and agree to the options they recommend for resolution. Humans are human, imperfect, fallible. It is a frightening prospect to turn a husband, father over to the medical personnel - see them wheeled away and disappear through the swinging doors...
The medical staff were instructed to do scans of his head overnight, to have images for radiology to interpret, provide updated info. when the surgeon comes for early morning rounds. There was concern he might have had a stroke during surgery, but that apparently did not occur. I missed hearing the report first hand on Wednesday morning, but continue to hope for improvement. Wednesday morning, was weaned off sedatives that induced a sort coma, to keep him immobile. Then taken off respirator, so he is, I think, breathing on his own. Slowly coming around...
It is safe to assume the process would have been the same today, with scans done in the wee hours, images read and report ready for surgeon on arrival. Ironic to think that the patient is sleeping much better than his anxious family, camping out on hard couches in ICU waiting area. It takes days for all the anesthesia to get out of your system, longer if you are not active, moving around to increase blood circulation. After such a risky surgery, they knew to expect to he would be in ICU for several days, to be closely monitored and easily accessible if urgent care was needed.
back in the deep....
...freeze of the deep south. Thankful for a safe trip and return to the routine chaos of Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport shortly after midnight. Various and sundry delays that resulted in us arriving on the downside of the analog timepiece to bring us into Atlanta on Thursday instead of Wed., but all in one piece. Odd, unlikely events as in: arriving at the mid point in Charlotte where the pilot reported he had 'good news and bad news.' Explaining we had arrived a bit early from the point of origin in Richmond, but we had no place to park, no crew to provide exit of the aircraft.
It all worked out, though we had to leave the comfort of our warm cocoon to freezing out door temperatures. Clamber down creaky steps onto the tarmac and shuffle across the apron gritty with coarse salt, to the open door of the terminal. It's been so long since I saw actual steps on wheels, outside of old black and white movies, I had to laugh as we tottered down to return to earth, hanging onto the insufficient wobbly handrail in the dark. Charlotte terminal has concourses that are similar to what we have come to expect, but this particular one was obviously older, at ground level, up a short ramp or three steps into the building. Reminiscent of airports of fifty years ago, when you could walk your departing friends out to the open door of the plane and wave goodbye, when you saw their smiling faces through the porthole as they settled into their assigned seat.
If that stopover had not been on the itinerary the usual flight time from RIC to ATL is about ninety minutes. This one, requiring a stroll from on end of the terminal to the other, plus a generous wait time, took over four hours. Hundreds milling about or hovering over electronic devices, crying children, antsy adolescents, yapping dogs in mesh carriers, groups of young soldiers in camo., hundreds of travelers with cancelled or delayed flights, made this stop-over airport seem much like Atlanta.
Having never been in that airport, it was remarkably similar to others everywhere I have traveled in my limited experience. But also different: I recall reading someplace that there are rocking chairs for travelers to stop and sit, rest and slow their harried pace. A long row of white wooden rocking chairs that makes you think about the front porch of Cracker Barrel restaurants. With the addition of a number of 'shade trees' that really do give a sense of a slower time and place, visit to grandmas, where you could sit with a cool glass of lemonade and slow your mind.
It all worked out, though we had to leave the comfort of our warm cocoon to freezing out door temperatures. Clamber down creaky steps onto the tarmac and shuffle across the apron gritty with coarse salt, to the open door of the terminal. It's been so long since I saw actual steps on wheels, outside of old black and white movies, I had to laugh as we tottered down to return to earth, hanging onto the insufficient wobbly handrail in the dark. Charlotte terminal has concourses that are similar to what we have come to expect, but this particular one was obviously older, at ground level, up a short ramp or three steps into the building. Reminiscent of airports of fifty years ago, when you could walk your departing friends out to the open door of the plane and wave goodbye, when you saw their smiling faces through the porthole as they settled into their assigned seat.
If that stopover had not been on the itinerary the usual flight time from RIC to ATL is about ninety minutes. This one, requiring a stroll from on end of the terminal to the other, plus a generous wait time, took over four hours. Hundreds milling about or hovering over electronic devices, crying children, antsy adolescents, yapping dogs in mesh carriers, groups of young soldiers in camo., hundreds of travelers with cancelled or delayed flights, made this stop-over airport seem much like Atlanta.
Having never been in that airport, it was remarkably similar to others everywhere I have traveled in my limited experience. But also different: I recall reading someplace that there are rocking chairs for travelers to stop and sit, rest and slow their harried pace. A long row of white wooden rocking chairs that makes you think about the front porch of Cracker Barrel restaurants. With the addition of a number of 'shade trees' that really do give a sense of a slower time and place, visit to grandmas, where you could sit with a cool glass of lemonade and slow your mind.
Monday, January 1, 2018
up early...
... to travel, heading to the Atlanta airport for a quick, unexpected trip to VA. After my brother called over the weekend to report anticipated surgery, it seemed like a good plan to go for a quick one-day visit. I woke up too early the morning after his call, and began plotting. Thinking I could get to Atlanta, take the next flight to Richmond and just stop by for some conversation and reminiscing.
As you have read on the exterior mirror on the passenger side door: 'Things are much more complicated than they seem..Or was it: 'Objects are closer than they appear?' At any rate - you cannot just show up at Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport and ask them to get you to VA. In my limited experience of today, you must first roll the dice, move your chosen marker on the game board, and fly to Philadelphia. I can longer say I have never been to Philly, even if all I saw was the inside of the air terminal and snow on the ground through the windows..
When we walked from one end of the terminal to the other (Murphy's Law - where you are is as far as possible from where you need to be) we had time to spare while awaiting the flight from Phil. to RIC. Stopped at the food court to get a bite before the hop from Pennsylvania to Virginia. Even though it is far from my idea of breakfast food, I suggested getting a Philly cheese-steak sandwich. Reluctant to admit having been to the 'Home of the Cheese-steak' and not sampled the drippy greasy mess right from the source. Better judgment prevailed, so we had bagels instead.
As you have read on the exterior mirror on the passenger side door: 'Things are much more complicated than they seem..Or was it: 'Objects are closer than they appear?' At any rate - you cannot just show up at Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport and ask them to get you to VA. In my limited experience of today, you must first roll the dice, move your chosen marker on the game board, and fly to Philadelphia. I can longer say I have never been to Philly, even if all I saw was the inside of the air terminal and snow on the ground through the windows..
When we walked from one end of the terminal to the other (Murphy's Law - where you are is as far as possible from where you need to be) we had time to spare while awaiting the flight from Phil. to RIC. Stopped at the food court to get a bite before the hop from Pennsylvania to Virginia. Even though it is far from my idea of breakfast food, I suggested getting a Philly cheese-steak sandwich. Reluctant to admit having been to the 'Home of the Cheese-steak' and not sampled the drippy greasy mess right from the source. Better judgment prevailed, so we had bagels instead.
back to work...
... was a sort of test, to determine whether my hand is really ready to return to being employed. Even though the schedule has had me on the job one day a week, it really has not be the type work I have been doing before the arm got broke and I became disabled. After the injury and long dull recovery, these intervening weeks since mid-October have consisted of standing around, looking smiley, offering samples to passersby. Thankful for the continued employment, even though the assignment was profoundly tedious.
I put in a two days last week, while my co-worker used up the last of his vacation days before the year came to a wobbly end. Doing the clean up and fluffing after Christmas, putting weary bedraggled poinsettias in the trash, getting rid of all signs of holiday/seasonal decorations. Then starting afresh, prepping and putting out new bouquets of cut flowers, beautifully blooming orchids and other plants shipped from the warehouse.
I am still trying to be careful and cautious with my newly reinforced parts. Wary of re-injury, not doing any of that 'pushing, pulling, lifting' the doctor's instructions cautioned about. While diligently doing the flexibility and strengthening exercises my rehab. encourages to regain full use and mobility. After those days following Christmas when I volunteered myself to tend to the floral area, I decided I might possibly be ready to get back in the groove.
Sunday was the test. I think I did pretty well. There were a couple of things I needed help with, that I just did not have the hand strength/grip to accomplish: opening a jar of green stuffed olives for salad. Otherwise mostly able to do everything necessary to return to full employment, even though it is only part time. I don't pick up heavy boxes, so there will continue to be some limitations. Otherwise I think I am ready.
I put in a two days last week, while my co-worker used up the last of his vacation days before the year came to a wobbly end. Doing the clean up and fluffing after Christmas, putting weary bedraggled poinsettias in the trash, getting rid of all signs of holiday/seasonal decorations. Then starting afresh, prepping and putting out new bouquets of cut flowers, beautifully blooming orchids and other plants shipped from the warehouse.
I am still trying to be careful and cautious with my newly reinforced parts. Wary of re-injury, not doing any of that 'pushing, pulling, lifting' the doctor's instructions cautioned about. While diligently doing the flexibility and strengthening exercises my rehab. encourages to regain full use and mobility. After those days following Christmas when I volunteered myself to tend to the floral area, I decided I might possibly be ready to get back in the groove.
Sunday was the test. I think I did pretty well. There were a couple of things I needed help with, that I just did not have the hand strength/grip to accomplish: opening a jar of green stuffed olives for salad. Otherwise mostly able to do everything necessary to return to full employment, even though it is only part time. I don't pick up heavy boxes, so there will continue to be some limitations. Otherwise I think I am ready.
looking at the...
... calendar, sending greetings from 2018. Well, here we are. I heard the firework snap, crackle popping around midnight after going to bed too early. Laid awake for a time listening to distant celebrations, before going back to sleep. Drifting off with the thought that the flashes and bangs, explosions were merely people who had more money than sense, willing to fork it over to buy stuff they would set on fire. Not the smartest way to spend hard earned cash, but ....
Thankful that hearing those distant bangs and whooshes did not cause anxiety or fear. No need to worry about mortars, incoming missiles, dangerous situations that would affect safety. I know there are many places on our planet that being awakened by the sound of explosions means you grab your children and dash off to someplace hidden, hoping to keep the family alive. Living in constant fear, always wondering how long you will have to be on guard, trying to keep your loved ones safe.
Thankful for living in America. Where you can go where you want, when you want, without asking permission or having to provide documentation that approves of your travel plans. All those taken- for-granted things guaranteed by the Constitution: assured by our founding fathers who were remarkably far-sighted in their wisdom.
Thankful for potable water, electricity, the astounding conveniences of modern appliances that make the daily chores of life routine and easy to manage. Think about what you would be doing without a refrigerator in your house, or stove/oven. What your life would be like if you did not have a machine that washes your clothing? Consider how you would spent your days if you had to cut down trees and chop for firewood to heat your home, as well as heat water for daily needs like washing and cooking? Yes. Very thankful for those things we rarely consider until it is time to call the repair guy.
And especially thankful for family and friends.
Thankful that hearing those distant bangs and whooshes did not cause anxiety or fear. No need to worry about mortars, incoming missiles, dangerous situations that would affect safety. I know there are many places on our planet that being awakened by the sound of explosions means you grab your children and dash off to someplace hidden, hoping to keep the family alive. Living in constant fear, always wondering how long you will have to be on guard, trying to keep your loved ones safe.
Thankful for living in America. Where you can go where you want, when you want, without asking permission or having to provide documentation that approves of your travel plans. All those taken- for-granted things guaranteed by the Constitution: assured by our founding fathers who were remarkably far-sighted in their wisdom.
Thankful for potable water, electricity, the astounding conveniences of modern appliances that make the daily chores of life routine and easy to manage. Think about what you would be doing without a refrigerator in your house, or stove/oven. What your life would be like if you did not have a machine that washes your clothing? Consider how you would spent your days if you had to cut down trees and chop for firewood to heat your home, as well as heat water for daily needs like washing and cooking? Yes. Very thankful for those things we rarely consider until it is time to call the repair guy.
And especially thankful for family and friends.
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