The past week has been rather busy for an old man. We are redoing the front (bonus) room. It has been Maureen’s arts, crafts, and work room. Now it will be the same, just glorious.

This renovation, of course, put me in the high gear of puttering: painting, sanding, erecting shelves, wall mounting a television, and then, even being electronically challenged, dealing with hooking the damn thing up to the cable, DVD, etc. All of this also meant my space in the garage has been filled with the old front room contents, and my car was required to remain in the driveway. i don’t even like a garage in the front of the house, much less having to leave a car, my car in the driveway.

About a week before this all began, our neighbor, Terri Dillon, without knowing it, tempted me greatly.

Terri is an extremely successful, knowledgeable, and beyond competent real estate broker. She is also a very nice person and an animal lover. A little while ago, Terri became involved with “Dog Fur Days.” This non-profit is dedicated to finding dogs in shelters, assigning them to volunteer foster homes, and then searching for new owners. Terri is a volunteer. As usual, she is very successful in her volunteer work.

Just shy of two weeks ago, i was going out to my car, parked in the driveway. Terri was coming down to retrieve her mail. The shared mailbox for eight homes is next to our driveway. Terri had three labrador mix puppies bounding around her. She told us about how much she enjoyed them, and Maureen and i played with the two males and one female. When Terri returned home, the puppies bounded all over the place but generally found their way back to Terri’s home.

i told Maureen had there just been two pups i might have argued strongly for us adopting them. But there were three, and i just couldn’t take two and leave the other one for someone else. Plus, i vowed i wouldn’t have another dog after putting our last one, Lena, down until i was sure the dog would outlive me. i don’t want to have to do that again.

i’m not quite sure i’m at that point yet, but i’m getting close. Eventually, i will have another dog. i hope he’s like my Cass, my labrador who was more my best friend than my dog.

So we didn’t bring it up, this puppy adoption thing, to Terri. She kept us up to date, and soon those three beautiful puppies were adopted.

Then in the middle of the craziness of renovation, Terri sends me a message. She has another foster pup. This time, just one. She decided to name it “Jewell” after me. i was honored.

Then yesterday, Terri and i met again at the mailbox. She had brought Jewell along to meet her namesake. She was small and cute as a button. She was also a little shy, but boy, she could make you giggle just like a puppy should.

Today, Terri sent me another message. Jewell has been adopted.

Now that makes me happy. Jewell has a good home and i won’t be tempted…until, of course, Terri and i meet at the mailbox again.

i was driving around San Diego on my way home from lunch with one of my all-time best friends Pete Toennies when i started to thinking about truth. The thought was initiated during lunch when Pete and i discussed the many sides of politics passing each other without even knowing the other guy was going the other way.

Pete and i are about as different as you can get in most ways. Pete is 6’6″ in incredible shape; he was an All-American swimmer at St. Johns, a UDT and SEAL officer, retiring as a captain. He has attained financial success through hard work in buying houses, renovating them by himself, renting them out and then doing the same again and again until he ended up with two apartment complexes, one of which he sold for a tidy sum about a dozen years ago. His financial acumen is on spot. He is a health nut, swims three nights a week, works out every day, and practices golf every day he’s not playing. He is a successful leader and what i would like to label an independently thinking conservative.

i am an enigma. i am about as short as Pete is tall. i work out occasionally and have never had much interest in finances. i golf with some weird belief i will get better through positive thinking. That ain’t happening. i am, in my niece’s terms, a putterer, and in my older daughter’s term, a contrarian.

Not only do Pete and i get along; we understand each other and like each other even more because we understand. So after our delightful lunch that we had not done in quite a while, i thought about our discussions. i thought about “truth” and tonight, i wrote this poem (sic);

truth

what is truth?
is it your truth? their truth? my truth?
is your truth better than their truth?
i already know you think your truth
is better than my truth;
after all, your truth
is based on facts;
of course, they are your facts
based on your truth,
and
their truth is based on facts;
of course, they are their facts,
and
lord knows,
you or they can’t ever, ever
consider their or your facts worth a damn
because they conflict
with your or their truths;
and
you and they aren’t ever gonna consider
talking to each other
to understand the difference
and
come up with a truthful solution;
while my truth lies in some long abandoned
cubby hole of reasoning
because
my truth doesn’t rely on facts
or
even truth;
my truth, i hope,
relies on compassion; equality/ freedom in their purest form, understanding,
and
what my folks taught me
about doing what’s right,
and
although i am not a practicing formal Christian,
i think that guy Jesus
pretty much nailed it
when he reportedly said
“do unto others as you would have them do unto you,”
and
“he who is without guilt cast the first stone;”
but
that is another truth entirely,
which most of the folks in this world
just ain’t gonna deal with,
and
i look around to watch all of those stones flying in the air
and
wonder
will we ever get to truth?
right now, i am not real hopeful.

Bonita, California
March 1, 20-17

As i did in 1979, i again have come to realize “Murphy’s Law” desk calendar’s daily entry is a lot more than funny. Its a pretty deep (oh okay: it’s deep for me) in the realm of human nature.

For example, this weekend’s entry — there is only one entry for each Saturday and Sunday. i guess Mr. Murphy has to rest sometime and the sabbath seems ideal to me — is oh so pertinent to our country’s current situation:

Hanlon’s Razor — Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.

Looking back on my last several posts, it seems i have become hooked on Mr. Murphy and his laws. i promise (weakly) i will back off. Mr. Murphy might sue me for copyright infringement.

i often get damn near ill when people start talking or writing about generalities when it comes to people.

It seems we keep classifying people by their race, the color of their skin, their religion, their politics, their sexual preferences and completely ignore they are individual human beings.

i guess it’s easier that way.

Then last night on PBS, which many of my conservative friends will determine this post is no longer worth continuing, ran a segment that blew me away.

The story is about a Syrian immigrant to the United States who is also a Muslim.

My thought was until all of the critics of their perceived enemies with their perceived generalizations about those enemies, foreign and domestic, right or left, black, white, brown, yellow, and green (okay, okay, i sort of went a little overboard on green), and on, and on, and on, can approach doing what this amazing gentleman is doing, they should reconsider their generalizations.

http://www.pbs.org/newshour/bb/foster-father-cares-terminally-ill-kids-no-one/

i was thinking this would be a quiet, lovely weekend.

i thought about sitting out in the yard in the morning sun and reading. i’m reading three books right now, and i need to knock out at least two of them because the third is the one i find most interesting. Over the last ten to fifteen years, my reading habits have gone into the toilet as every chance i have to read i discover some task, either a home minor emergency, a financial action, or simply writing something like this, to keep me away from books — i am old admittedly and it’s always a BOOK, not some monitor or screen. i gotta have my tactile fix when reading a “book.”

This is critical since one entire wall of my home office is a bookcase completely full of books. i once promised myself i would read all of the Harvard Classics and the Franklin Library collections that i haven’t read and then reread many others placed there because they are special to me. i figured when i retired (sic) each time (right now, the number of retirements stands at about a dozen), i would devote several hours a day to this task. Ain’t happening.

Today, it turns out, is no different from the other days when i laid aside time to read leisurely (such a nice comfortable term that “leisurely”). We are in the process of  needed maintenance on our courtyard, So there are some palm varieties that had to leave the scene. They have and the final  stump removal occurred today. That means, of course, that someone must find the drains in the planting areas, make sure they are extant, clean the surrounding area and put river rock atop them. You see, the rains again are coming to the Southwest corner in a day or so, and the planting areas will not be replanted by then. So, a rain will wash the dirt and debris down the drain; it will plug; and then we’ve got a bigger problem. So that has to be done NOW.

In an effort to do everything at once, in spite of our “a little bit at a time” plans, we also began making the front room worthy of Maureen’s art and craft show (as well as it being her office). So reflooring commenced in the middle of the week. To re-floor, we had to remove the shelves my father had installed in the closet some ten years ago. i got that removal job. Painting the closet became the priority. That painting began today and will conclude one day next week. Now, some smuck gets nailed to prep and paint the door frames and the quarter round for the baseboard.  Guess who?

In checking out the stump removal, Maureen pointed out the master bath’s exterior door needed to be prepped and repainted. i cried, but admitted that was my job long forgotten (purposely because i do not like to paint and dislike prepping for painting even more).

Oh, and did i mention income taxes? Organizing my office? Getting the stereo to work properly? Fixing the light fixture and the light switch?

So the reading in the sunny morning has already taken a hit. i had already given up going to watch the Tony Gwynn Classic at San Diego State and University of San Diego fields with this year’s teams consisting of UC Irvine’s Anteaters (man, i love that nickname), Notre Dame, Oregon, Seton Hall, the two host teams, and Tennessee. I have also conceded the afternoon to not watching Vanderbilt play Mississippi State in basketball on the tube. Of course, i taped that and will watch it later…if i get all my work done.

Then, i tore Friday’s Murphy’s Law off my desk calendar by the same name. The entry was: “Campbell’s Law — The less you do, the less can go wrong.”

i told Maureen this was my new motto, seriously thinking i might yet salvage some basketball watching and reading in the sun for the afternoon.

Maureen laughed.

i am now planning a marathon night of reading to catch up. i wonder if in my torpor of old age, i can still do that?