Period of Adjustment

Or call it self-indulgence. It's the last day of April, 18 since I returned to Canada and if April Showers do indeed bring Mayflowers then we should have a prodigious display. In the month of April I've managed to read 6 books, cart upteen loads up from my RV, fight dust, oil woodwork, and various clean. Watch a few DVD's, listen to CD's, organize a few corners. I even found and cleaned my kitchen counter-space. On Monday I got back in my home gym for the first time in five month and today I'm beginning to feel the onset of Delayed Onset Soreness. When it isn't pouring out I've been attempting to get out and walk.

Today I walked down to Trafalgar and Iroquois Shore Rd then along the Creek Diversion to enter the Morrison Creek Ravine from the south end. Ten days ago when I helped in a clean-up of this ravine the trilliums were in bud and the trout lilies showing. As of today the trilliums are still trying ot open. The ducks are back:



The trout lilies are struggling to be seen amid the dross and cross piles of ash that have fallen prey to the emerald ash borer.



In the warmer glades the trilliums are out.



Without any leaves out as yet the streams look barren and exposed.

Settling in Back Home

So I'm back in Oakville after an absence of 5 months. Calls for a certain period of adjustment. From 150 sq. ft of living space to nearly 1500. Sorting through 5 month's worth of mail. Fighting dust and dirt. Turning things back on. Remembering where items are stored. Carting items up from my RV.

Vacuuming my apartment after 5 months is a remarkably unproductive process. So long as the apartment was cleaned reasonably close to my departure with the forced air heating turned off very little dust has settled. Our bodies are the source of the majority of household dust--dandruff, dead skin, finger nail clippings; the rest is contributed by worn fibres from clothing, bedding, carpets, and upholstery--think the lint you pull out of your clothes dryer; and environmental dust, minimal if the windows aren’t opened. Hopefully the dust mites all died over the winter due to starvation and cold.

If you haven’t seen my pictures from Marquette they’re viewable here:

https://plus.google.com/photos/116056081906880155927/album/5863664819164633265?authkey=CNKrs8Ok8dSCyQE

Finally a few notes:

One  advantage  print  books  will always have over e-Books, they never need recharging.

Is  it  just me or does NPR On-Air Fund Raising follow other people as they travel?

What  did  the  first  vending  machine  dispense? The first vending  machines  in  the US dispensed chewing gum and were installed in New York City train platforms in 1888.

And staff have been pulling it off seats ever since!

The following information paints a remarkable picture of alcohol sales in various parts of Canada. Most interesting are the provinces with a sophisticated taste for wine. Particularly disturbing when you consider that so much of Canada’s North is supposedly dry:

http://www.cbc.ca/edmonton/interactive/alcohol-sales/

Rita MacNeal's Funeral

The funeral for Rita MacNeil was held Monday April 22, 2013 in St. Mary's Catholic Church in Big Pond, Cape Breton with 200 in the sanctuary and 450 next door at the Community Firehall. It was as unique as the person it honoured. The singing was led by a female Kantor without accompaniment, the congregation was the choir. It began with her daughter reading a note from Rita herself asking that her remains be cremated and placed in a tea pot, 2 if necessary, and that a reception with 'cash bar' be held at the firehall after the service. A picture of Rita hands clasped in front of her chin sat in front of the altar beside the teapot and a vase of red roses, on a stand beside them one of Rita's favourite red hats. Save for the priest's eulogy the entire service seemed scripted by Rita including the playing of a selection from her last CD. This was not a high requiem mass and could have been celebrated in any church, no mention was made of Rita's membership or attendance at mass. As the service ended the tea pot was carried out of the church by a family member one would suppose to officiate at her wake, the ashes to be spread around her tearoom at her request. After the crucifer led the officiants and family out of the church the congregation took the opportunity to exchange greetings and chatter, they had after all just been exhorted to take every opportunity to greet and hug one another.

For the present raw footage of the service is available here:

http://www.cbc.ca/news/arts/story/2013/04/22/ns-macneil-funeral.html

If Winter be come, can Spring be far behind?

So wrote Percy Bysshe Shelley. He obviously didn't live in Canada where its reputation as the Great White North is being richly earned this year. It was TS Elliot who wrote, "April is the cruelest month." Today is Earth Day, Saturday, April 20th. Accordingly I joined councillor Tom Adams this morning for a clean-up of the Morrison Creek Ravine. We are supposed to be one month into Spring but looking out at a snow squall at 6:30 this morning one could be forgiven for doubting it. Appropriately attired I set out for Algrove Park where Tom was late, I suppose he can be forgiven given that he brought his children along. There was no lack of litter and plenty of evidence of neighbours dumping yard waste in the park. When the group got hit by the second wind-driven snow squall we gave up and packed it in for the day but not before collecting 10 bags of garbage.

End of the Road This Trip

Driving in rain and a gusting crosswind is no fun. Nor is passing through major urban centres during rush hour. In this final leg of my journey home I passed through the middle of Buffalo, Niagara Falls, Saint Catherines, Hamilton, Burlington, and Oakville. I had no desire to get caught in Toronto-bound rush hour traffic. With this in mind and listening to the rain hitting my roof I went back to bed Friday morning. When I did get up the wind and rain was still present but I was better rested.

Driving a high-profile vehicle in gusting crosswinds requires one to be constantly ultra-alert which is tiring and makes slowing down advisable. It may save on fuel but ads to the length of time one is one the road. My informants in Erie gave me bad advice, whereas the price of gas there was $3.54 when I reached the border in New York State the price was $3.89, ouch. In addition, welcome to another toll highway. This one cleared my wallet of American change and my last dollars. When I reached the toll booth for the Peace Bridge I had to resort to my container of Canadian Coins. The gal at Canadian Customs was both polite and expeditious and had me on my way in seconds. Big sigh of relief.

The last 90 minutes of driving was on reasonably familiar territory. I stopped at the Tourist Bureau in Wine Country and picked up some travel brochures and a 2010-2011 map of Ontario--New York State has run out of maps. The tensest moments in this stretch was the interchange of the QEW with Highways 403 and 407. Not only is one surrounded by traffic traveling faster than advisable but I find it difficult to remember from one trip to another just where one has to be to get where one wants to go and in traffic other motorists are not always obliging in letting one into the lane one has to enter. A miss-step can land one on a toll highway or face one with a long detour. I made it.

And another thing, crossing the border means switching from miles to kilometers. My odometer and GPS were not in sync with the highway signs and exits which can be disconcerting. At least I wasn't about to run out of gas. Made it to my home parking lot to find that my super and a board member had just seen to towing the car illegally parked in my spot. I managed to back in with no great difficulty. Grabbed my laptop and went home thankful that my access code still worked.

Day Fourteen and Onward Home

The first thing I learned when I arrived in Rock Island, Illinois was that I should have filled up in Iowa; gas this side of the Mississippi is 30¢/gal more. Too late for this day. Burned once already I signed in for one day and settled in for the night. When everything appeared to be as promised signed up for 3 days more. With moderately good online access decided to play catch-up. Even managed to upload my pictures from Marquette early one morning here:

https://plus.google.com/photos/116056081906880155927/albums/5863664819164633265?authkey=CNKrs8Ok8dSCyQE

Went for a walk around the pond/lake around which the seasonal campsites are ranged along with some tenting sites and put out my bird feeders. The swampy areas were teaming with Redwing Blackbirds and the fields with Killdeer. Woodpeckers called from high in the treetops. A Nuthatch appeared at my bird treat in his favourite upside down stance. I also attracted Purple Finch and American Goldfinch. I was thrilled to see a male Downie who seemed to be collecting food for a nearby nesting mate.

Got my act in gear on Saturday and drove the 8 miles back across the Mississippi to get gas in Iowa, then drove to another bridge and crossed back to visit the Quad City Botanical Gardens. Not the most favorable time to visit any garden but with my RBG Card the visit was free. On my way home dropped into the Hy-Vee grocery store a mile from my campground and was pleasantly surprised to find pleasant helpful staff, a bakery, meat market, cheese deli, fresh produce and an excellent selection of general groceries. The wine and beer section had a selection of ciders that I couldn't resist. Elberblossom Flavoured Cider!

Traveling anywhere from this park meant a bridge and expressway so I gave up on Sunday Morning Church and spent a quiet day at home getting in a further walk between showers. Wouldn't you know the internet failed just after everyone left the office for the day. I was the only person in my section of the campground so it was quiet. The barking dogs and partiers had all left. Took my time getting started next day but the internet it seemed was not to be.

Lots of truck traffic again on I-80 and some rough patches. The toll section cost me $1.10 near Chicago; traffic roared along at 70+ in a 55 zone until we passed two trucks pulled over by the Sheriff's Department. Made Michigan City by mid-afternoon and found someone in the office ready to serve me, Sadie the dog pattered downstairs to greet me. Satisfied I was acceptable she walked back behind the counter and laid down.

Settled into the same campsite I've stayed at on two prior occasions. Michigan City Campground is not a 5-Star location but it has never failed me and the owners are polite and friendly. It's good to feel welcomed and cared for. On the ground spring is still waiting for a few warm nights before things start happening but the frogs are busy mating each night in the local ponds and one Canada Goose had a clutch of 5 eggs when I visited her pond. Two pair of Hooded Mergansers were cruising the far end of the pond. Wednesday Morning amid rain and thundershowers I finally got off. I decided to wait for full daylight to drive in the rain. It never did brighten by much.

Interstate 80 in Indiana and Ohio is a toll road. Between the two sections it cost me $23.30. If there was evidence that the revenue had been spent on maintaining the road it wouldn't suck quite as bad. The sections under construction were a definite pain. One stretch was ponded under a foot of water. During one particularly heavy thunderstorm the windshield wipers couldn't keep up, the hale was hitting too hard for the thunder to make an impression but the ground strike in the field across the road caught my attention. In several rather narrow construction zones the trucks beside me got perilously close. With a captive audience Mobil Oil was charging what they thought the traffic would bear at the service centres. The signs at one such read $3.89. I filled up for $3.54 but saw an off highway station shortly afterward reading $3.34. All in all it was a tough 400 miles. And having crossed the meridian I lost an hour so I arrived at my campground just 15 minutes before closing at 6:45.

I'm writing in Erie, Pennsylvania at Presque Isle Passage Campground, alas, a glorified mudhole. Sank in to my hub caps the first time I tried to back into my campsite. Found another route in. Nothing else looked much better in the waning light. The internet did work as promised.

Thursday morning woke early and went back to bed after breakfast. When I did get going drove up to see the visitor's centre at Presque Isle State Park. Someone designed an observation tower to afford a view of the peninsula but the project ran out of funds and the tower provides its best view of the roller coasters at the amusement park across the road. A four-lane highway led out onto the peninsula sporting a speed limit of 25. Everything appears well planned and cared for. In the wind and the rain walking the park seemed out of the question, a bike path paralleled the road in. Caught a turnaround and drove back to the Interpretive Centre. Watched the 15-minute intro movie and paid to see an hour-long IMAX show on Tornadoes. Narrated by none other than Mister Twister himself, Bill Paxton. There was even a nut-job in a homemade tank-like structure who anchored himself in the path of a tornado to film its 30-second passage over his turret. Can't imagine what people thought seeing this tank-like vehicle approaching them in a storm on the highway.

Dumped all my tanks against my RV sitting in freezing temps. Friday morning decided to wait so I wouldn't hit rush hour traffic in Buffalo, Hamilton, Toronto Bound. Or was I just being lazy? In any case I went back to bed. I'm sending this just before I leave for home.

Further Rantings

Ended up writing a catch-up blog instead of my last rant so here goes.
Until I saw Tyler Posey use his cell phone to find something in the dark
on Teen Wolf such a use had never occurred to me. Smart phones and
tablets are becoming versatile all-in-one entertainment units; though I
find reading a book while jogging to be inadvisable though I've seen it.
If you don't want to interact with the world around you use a treadmill
instead and hook up to your I-Pad or watch TV. Cell phones have become
so ubiquitous that people wear them on their belts rather than have a
watch on their wrists to check the time. GPS enabled phones even track
jogging distances replacing a pedometer.

Bud Light has a great deal to answer for. Aside from being a piss-poor
excuse for a beer its cans are littered everywhere by the souses who
drink it. If the next person to light on the Moon or Mars doesn't find a
Tim Horton's cup with the rim rolled up there'll be a Bud Light can, now
in 8 oz tins--why even bother?

Last night my campground fell out of favour with me when someone turned
off the computer that controls access to the internet when they shut
down for the night leaving one very unhappy camper.

Overnight it started raining, no thunder and lightening that I noticed
but a few quite heavy showers. In the morning a few rather large puddles
around the park. Settled in last night when I couldn't get online and
had trouble sleeping and finished Borland's High, Wide and Lonesome.
Decided to move on to Pearl S Buck's The Good Earth, a classic I have
not yet read.

Something I et, (the breading on the precooked chicken I had Saturday?),
caused an allergic reaction--anxiety, bloating, flatulence, and hives in
my groin. Guess I should have prepared my own dinner that day.

Outside my windows this morning the Red-Wing Blackbirds are protesting
the loss of my bird feeders put away before the rain began at dusk last
night.

On the BBC News on NPR this morning was announced the death of the Iron
Lady Margaret Thatcher. Thousands of Coal Miners and other unionized
workers are probably ready to dance on her grave. Cut from the same
cloth as her buddy Reagan who famously fired striking air traffic
controllers she was loved and villainized for taking on the unions, for
the Falklands War, and for instituting a much-hated poll tax as an
insult to the poor.

Day Seventeen

Oh, the luxury of having no place I need to be going and no need to
prepare my RV for travel. If there were a church I could walk to I'd
attend but alas everywhere I would go involves a super-highway and a
massive bridge here in Rock Island on the Mississippi. Thunder rumbled
and flashed all about us last night but no heavy showers or worse passed
over us. Deo Gratis.

Just now I was rewarded by the sight of the first bird at my feeder
here, the fact that my next door neighbours moved out probably has
helped. A nuthatch just landed on my bird treat. Upon arrival at Rock
Island, Illinois on Thursday the first thing I learned was that gas here
due to some dispute between the State and the oil companies is
30¢/gallon more expensive. The Rock Island/Quad City KOA is on the Rock
River which runs into the Mississippi just west of here. Getting
anywhere involves a bridge and an expressway. After discovering that
everything at this campground was as advertised I decided to settle in
for four days, at $30/day. Remember I stayed at Coronado in Lindsborg,
Ks ten days for $5 more.

I needed a rest after 1254 miles of driving; I'm just under 800 miles
from home. Spent the first days catching up online with my E-mail and
such and going for walks about the campground. The campground has two
large ponds, I would not want to be here during mosquito time. My
campsite is typical of a commercial campground where the cost of
supplying underground services--hydro, water, and sewage--places sites
rather close together but this one is in a dell which makes it quiet
save for when an engine shunts along the industrial spur line across the
road. The nuthatch is feeding a mate on the nest or some young, he flies
in for a quick peck, then flies off again.

Yesterday, Saturday, April 6th got my act together and drove back across
the Mississippi to get gas in Iowa--16 miles round trip to save $9.00.
Stopped on the way back to tour the local Quad City Botanical Gardens.
Interesting to see two bridges across the mighty Mississippi
particularly given their totally different styles. The system of one-way
streets around the gardens made me thankful there was little traffic.
The gardens themselves consisted of one central multi-story greenhouse
structure with a model railway court and surrounding lawns. Not the time
of year for a lot to be happening I stopped because my RBG Membership
got me in by reciprocal agreement.

While I was out dropped into the Hy-Vee grocery store a mile from my
campground and was pleasantly surprised. Recommended by my campground's
owner the place had a wine and beer store, fresh produce, bakery, deli,
meat market, and a fine selection of cheeses; and the staff were
friendly and helpful. One caveat, their oven baked beans were not
pre-cooked quite enough before the seasonings were added and are a
little tough. Expect they'll be gassy--serves me right for not thawing
out my own.

Day Ten and Onward

Was up before 5:00 to walk over at 6 to be picked up for the 6:30 Sunrise service at Coronado Heights. Early in more senses than one since pastor failed to check his Old Farmer's Almanac and realize the sunup would not occur until 7:17 at our location. The faithful stood around 3 fire pits, drank coffee and ate donuts until ole sol finally made his appearance. Christ is risen, Alleluia, not let's get warm.

Arrived back in Lindsborg just in time to make the Easter Service at Bethany complete with trumpet. Following was a Biscuits and Sausage Gravy Brunch. Would it be sharing too much to relate that it passed straight through me?

At three that afternoon attended the Spiritual Messiah. This time the technicians couldn't turn off the sunlight streaming in the stained-glass windows though it did tend to make the room rather warm. Four soloists, one of them new to us, took turns singing Spirituals which fit the theme of the Messiah. Some of the wails from the Soprano could only be described as field hollers. The soloists were backed by a group of chamber singers and the ever versatile pianist Genevieve Bishop. Melody Steed accompanied the choir, soloists and audience in the Hallelujah Chorus at the end of Part 2 just before a much-needed intermission. It felt good to get outside. The soloists got off-stage at the end of Part 1, pity the chorus.

Got to bed early and tried to sleep. Around 5:30 set out for points north with a certain feeling of regret. Kansas roads, even the interstate, are full of pot holes this time of year and they play havoc with my laptop/amplifier connection. A steady crosswind and groved concrete highway proved wearing. By the time I reached the Missouri Border I was ready to stop in Independence and rest up. The Campus RV Park owned and operated by the Community of Christ has a number of quallities to recommend it. Their Temple and Auditorium are just across the field, the staff are welcoming, and Independence's water supply is among the purist on earth. A shower in such soft water is truly refreshing. Stayed over so I could attend prayers for peace at the Temple and was rewarded by a magnificient Chorale and Variations on the organ.

Started out early Wednesday morning to beat Kansas City traffic. I no longer enjoy driving curving expressway roads in the dark but made it out of town safely, then stopped for a coffee. Drove straight up I-35 by-passing Des Moines to head 40 miles out of my way to find a campsite. Iowa did not give me a good welcome. The dour harridan at the 'welcome centre' seemed only interested in getting her guest register signed to justify her continued employment. When I arrived the 'year round' campground was serve yourself/pay cash and lacked everything but an electricl hook-up. Too tired to think of going elsewhere I settled in and read myself to sleep. Managed to get through 1/3 of Hal Borland's High, Wide and Lonesome.

Thursday morning decided to check out the campground along US 30 I didn't stop at on my way up to the forgetable and highway noise ridden Whispering Pines. Discovered that it would have been no better. US 30 is reputedly America's first trans-continental highway. I drove it for one hundred miles from I-35 to Cedar Rapids. After I got past the rough patch just off I-35 the road was in good shape, a 4-lane divided highway for most of this stretch and rated at 55-65. The fact that all the intersecting highways were level crossings gave one pause for thought and caution but compared to I-80 to the south there was no traffic to speak of. At Cedar Rapids I dropped down to I-80 where truck traffic was nearly bumper to bumper the entire drive to the Illinois Border and Rock Island.

Day Four and Onward

Suppose it's a good thing that I proved too busy this past week to keep up on my blogging. Having just had a shower I'll endeavour to catch up in the quiet of The Campus at Independence Missouri. The water here is wonderfully soft and neutral tasting and the pressure is very high.

On Monday March 25th the deep freeze continued overnight and the sun was slow in warming the earth. Slowly the snow settled into the soil and boiled away on the concrete parking lots and roadways. North-facing homes have a problem there. In the evening I walked over to the moderately-attended Symphonic Band Concert at Presser Hall. The band was made up of students from Bethany College and their teachers, high school students and community members. Alas they seemed under-rehearsed. The program ended with the seven-piece Bethany College Jazz Band Ensemble who played rather modern jazz numbers. However the Smoky Valley High School Jazz Ensemble, all 22 of them including 8 saxophones stole the show. Credit goes to their conductor who acted as his own stage hand and in live performance pretty much left things up to his young stars. He also paid tribute to the parents who get their offspring to 7:30 AM rehearsals Wednesday and Fridays, 6:30 AM at Presser Hall that day. Rarely have I heard better performances from professional players. Young Mark Klaassen set aside his trumpet to come forward and give a rousing performance of Mack the Knife to shrieks from his female classmates.

Tuesday Morning the temperature continued dropping even after the sun topped the horizon bottoming out at 16º F but by early afternoon it managed to rise to the 50ies. I spent the afternoon wandering around downtown Lindsborg. I still haven't managed to find the Old Blacksmith Shoppe Coffee Shop open but I was in and out of most other stores. Well, I gave the funeral home a pass! Lindsborg has a clockmaker who can repair almost anything, he does not approve of the kerosene I store in my striking clock, oh well it's been there for 250 years and the thing still works. The Courtyard Cafe and Gallery has large format photography by George Jerkovich, a psychiatrist from Salina:

http://www.courtyardgallery.com/Merchant2/merchant.mvc?Screen=CTGY&Category_Code=264_Jerkovich

The photos from Coronado Heights are spectacular but so are the prices of his 3 ft by 5 ft framed reproductions. I have no means of transporting them even if I dared. When I got back to my home set up my bird feeders where I could monitor them from the seat where I sit at my table and write seated or reclining in bed. After early dinner walked across the road for a pint of Blue Bunny Double Strawberry Ice Cream.

In the evening walked over to witness the Master Class given by Sunday's Soloists. It proved to be largely a lesson in proper breathing technique, they didn't use the term but I'd call it diaphragmatic breathing. Not at all shy about being hands on they grabbed soloists without a by your leave by the waist and lower rib cage and by the neck to show how to hold ones' head and open ones jaw to let the sound out. When Monday's Mark Klaassen gave a rather repressed version of an art song the look on his face when a big buxom female grabbed him just above his pelvis, well, it spoke volumes.

Wednesday was an off-day and dawned somewhat warmer but I still decided to wait for matters to warm up before I went out to move the RV forward to dump my holding tanks. After making sure everything was secure drove down to the nearest gas station to fill up at $3.39/American Gallon. Then followed Kansas Highway 4 out of town and west 8 miles to the cut-off for the City of Marquette population 647. One drives by the grain elevator on the way into town. I parked beside the City Park where a man from Salina was looking for rare coins with a metal detector. The Bells of Elim Lutheran Church toll the quarter hour with a Westminster Chime Pattern. Walked South on the West Side of Washington St. past the closed Museum Buildings and the imposing Town Hall. Noted the permanently closed Valley Cafe where farmers can no longer come to town to chew the fat over coffee and sweets. A historic old building with working pull-rope style elevator houses an art gallery with downstairs photo-studio. Next door the Emporium is located in the former pharmacy where the original soda fountain gear adorns the walls and ice cream is still served. At the end of the Opera House Block is the Senior's Centre which serves coffee and goodies and a quilt was being actively worked on in its blocks. Next was an ancient garage station with its gravity pump still intact and the Barber Shop.

Crossing the street one encounters the more modern Pipers Fine Foods with its specialty meats and local supplies. In a crumbling historic building with a wall mural on its side is the hardware store with its ceiling threatening to collapse on shoppers testifying to the fact that the apartments overhead can no longer be rented out. The proprietress tells of the twice collapse of the dried-brick exterior south wall. She says her main business is farmers, the rest is for show. This is an old-fashioned hardware store where it is still possible to buy the single screw or the clamp you need not a blister pak. A nearly new shop is next door followed by various pubs and specialty shops. My final stop was the library where I charmed the librarian by praising the High School Band in which her grandson was a member. Located in the former bank with all the historic accouterments intact the imposing counter and its barriers were backed by a deep counter under which resided a pull rope for setting off the robbery alarm. The ornate safe featured a hand-wound clockwork time-delay system, a battery-operated alarm, and a ventilation system lest someone be trapped inside the air tight vault. Still in place were the original bank records and a bound archive of the local Marquette Newspaper.

My final stop in town was the Elim Lutheran Church where I found the mayor's wife at work so I got to see the sanctuary. The parsonage with a wheel-chair accessible ramp was next door. I walked back to my RV through the park past the swimming pool and tennis courts. Welcome to Marquette indeed, I love wandering old Main Streets.

Thursday March 28th. Maundy Thursday. Spent a quiet morning watching the birds and a red squirrel devour my sunflower seeds. Walked over to Scott's Foods for some more shopping. Walked over to Presser Hall for the Honor's Recital at 2:30. The concert was a series of Soprano Arias bookended by a Tuba Solo to begin and a tour de force for Organ, Max Reger's Introduction and Passacaglia in D Minor. To quote the gal at Bethel Church where he practiced, the boys love loud organ music. Sat and read until 5:00 PM Maundy Thursday Service at Bethel. This day stopped for Orange Sherbet at Scott's on the way home.

Good Friday. The Community Good Friday Service was at St. Bridget's Catholic Church. The words, etched in stone, in front of the statue of Mary out front, Pray for an End to Abortion, struck a discordant note with me but was a sentiment echoed by the Lutheran Men at Bible Study the next day who spoke up. The experience confirmed for me that the Lutherans in town had most of the talent, the electronic monster that accompanied us was a miserable instrument. Oh well. Walked home along streets I'd not walked before and met the local Letter Carrier out working on Good Friday. Ouch! We talked. Had an afternoon rest to ensure I'd be awake that evening.

Again the St. Matthew Passion by Bach began precisely on time and the Presser Hall technicians turned off the lights so that the audience couldn't read the program or join the audience participation number. They were left on for the second half. I was surprised that the Bach Tenor pictured in the program did not sing the part of the evangelist and indeed this evening was his only appearance all week. Last minute ticket buyers nearly filled the hall.

Almost remained in bed Saturday Morning but got to Bible Study early. Pastor Dean Apel was late and 5 minutes out of bed by his own admission. Arranged a ride for Sunday Morning. The remainder of the day was quiet. Went for a walk and discovered the Thrift Shop in a warehouse like building north of town. I went in out of curiosity but found nothing of interest. Guess people in Lindsborg hold on to their good books because what was on offer was pretty crappy. Plenty of cassettes, VHS Tapes, and a few DVD's but nothing I'd risk buying. The remainder was clothing, furniture, and clap trap. Down the street standing totally unprotected were 3 large propane storage tanks. On this day I heated up my first Lefse.

March Rant

Well, I intended this to be a March Rant.

Richard Griffiths just died at 65. If I called him Vernon Dursley, Harry Potter's guardian, the name might be more readily recognized. Not given a particularly lovable role in that series another of his qualities endears him to me. He was noted for stopping in the middle of a performance when an audience member's cell phone rang and ordering the miscreant out of the theatre. Good for him! What do you do when the offending party is the pastor during church service?

Our Canadian preteen pop sensation may have reached the age of majority but Justin Bieber has not reached maturity. Following the all-to-familiar arc of pubescent teens who attain overnight super-stardom he is on a dangerous downward spiral. Fighting with paparazzi, speeding, fighting with his neighours, arriving late for concert appearances, throwing up on stage, collapsing on stage, appearing partially clothed in public. I say again Brian Adams and Anne Murray should run a course in handling fame for all such young starlets and attendance should be compulsory.

In an item not likely to make news in urban America NPR did a story on the 200 yearly suffocation deaths that occur in corn bins when young men and teens are sent in to 'stamp down the corn' while it is being emptied below. Despite regulations and the existence of safety harnesses to prevent them this number of deaths occur in commercial settings yearly. To further disturb one's sense of bucolic serenity at least as many deaths occur yearly each fall when farmers prematurely enter silos and are overcome by CO and Methane, the by-products of the fermentation of silage. Alas this situation often results in multiple deaths when an attempt it made to rescue the first victim. By the time a local volunteer fire department arrives with breathing apparatus it is much too late to revive the victims.

I'm falling behind on my rants.

Seems obesity contributes to poorer gas mileage. It takes extra gasoline to move that 400-pound lug and his equally hefty wife around.

Highliner fish fillets are frozen in water which can make up as much as 80% of the package contents!

Top tickets to the Canadian Opera Company are $325.

Finbar in the original Irish meant fair-headed one, Anglicized to Barry.

Started listening to a Rollingstone podcast by still wet behind the ears Chris Colfer and found it too much to take. We seem to be minting pop stars fresh out of the womb and listening to them opine as if they were seasoned veterans is gag inducing.

I like this one:

A  woman in a hot air balloon realized she was lost. She lowered her altitude and spotted a man in a boat below. She
shouted to him:

"Excuse  me,  can  you  help me? I promised a friend I would meet him an hour ago, but I don't know where I am."

The man consulted his portable GPS and replied, "You're in a
hot air balloon, approximately 30 feet above ground elevation  of  2,346  feet  above  sea  level. You are at 31 degrees, 14.97 minutes north latitude and 100 degrees, 49.09 minutes west longitude.

"She  rolled  her  eyes  and  said,  "You  must  be an Obama Democrat."

"I am," the man replied. "How did you know?"

"Well,"  answered the balloonist, "everything you told me is
technically correct. But I have no idea what to do with your
information, and I'm still lost. Frankly, you've not been much help to me."

The man smiled and responded, "You must be a Republican."

"I am," replied the balloonist. "How did you know?"

"Well," said the man, "you don't know where you are or where you are going. You've risen to where you are due to a large quantity of hot air. You made a promise you have no idea how to keep, and you expect me to solve your problem. You're in exactly the same position you were in before we met, but somehow, now it's my fault."

Rollingstone Magazine actively supported Obama last year while slagging Romney.

Just before a Morman Tabernacle Choir Broadcast Salt Lake City Radio presented a note on violence against woman. The Morman Church's position on the status of women doesn't constitute violence against woman?

Only in Italy would they blame the messenger. An Italian Court convicted a group of scientists of manslaughter for inadequate quake information. Predicting earthquakes is even more tenuous than predicting weather, what did they expect?

Is it just me or are there a lot of hippy era rock stars issuing their memoirs lately?

Recently installed a 114 MB update for windows. At one time this would have been termed a service pack.

Denis Diderot, an eighteenth century anarchist philosopher said, "Man will never be free until the last king is strangled with the entrails of the last priest."