Not by my choice, I've been single now for a couple of years. Woo-hoo!
So, in a weak moment at some point, I took a look at Match.com, one of the supposedly leading online dating sites. "It's okay to look", they say. I never dated anyone I met online, but did go out with a couple of women that I already knew after I saw that they were on Match also. As Chuck Woolery might say: "No love connection."
After my initial subscription ran out, I went to the free subscription, which allows one to get - I am not making this up - "winks", but doesn't give access to emails. After all, the service is trying to make money, so they want your PAID subscription. Duh!
That didn't work out so well. A few lonely hearts "winked", but as I didn't have full access, I couldn't respond (other than to wink back if I was so inclined, and rarely was). Finally, I decided to turn off my profile a few months back.
Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, I must've signed up for another "free" online dating service. So, every other day or so, it sends me an email telling me who it thinks are matches for my interests. Because my life's so boring at the present, I'll usually log on to the site and take a look at what who they think I'd like, or who's viewed my profile. Occasionally there'll be a brief email (this service does support emailing), but so far I haven't had any substantive email conversations with any of the women, and haven't really seen any profiles that really intrigue me, either. I think I'm about ready to turn off the profile on the free service also.
Maybe I'll move to the mountains and become a hermit...
I am so glad that March 2 is just around the corner. Every day for the past several weeks I've had many slick cardboard advertisements for this or that candidate in the upcoming primary election.
Guess that's what happens when you vote regularly - a computer database somewhere flags you as a "voter" and you get all this confounded junk mail.
If all things were equal, and they're not, I'd vote in a Libertarian primary - only there isn't one. So, I voted in the primary of the party that I think more closely approximates my politics. In the brief time I was at the polling place, it seemed that most of those there were also voting in the same party's primary.
Anyway, I'll be glad to stop filling my garbage bags with those posters and postcards (which, incidentally, rip the cheap garbage bags I buy).
I wonder if any of the politicians promised good weather ahead?
I used to think that Hasten Down the Wind, with harmony vocals provided by Don Henley, was my favorite LR duet. But this effort, from 1974, with singer/composer John David Souther (also a frequent Eagles collaborator), is a better contender. No offense intended by not including the Aaron Neville sessions - I'm just old school. Or old, as Todd the Blogger and Chupacabra have kindly pointed out.
I don't know who the soapers are, I don't watch soaps. But it was the only specimen I could find with good sound quality.
In addition to playing with the Snow Dog yesterday, I had to go to the supermarket to get some celery for the stew I was making. While there, I perused the gun magazines, hoping to glean some useful nugget o' information that I did not know previously.
In one of the magazines was an article by Mike Venturino, a honcho in the Cowboy Action Shooting movement. The premise of Mr. Venturino's essay sort of echoed yesterday's post by Todd the Blogger in that he advised Cowboy Action enthusiasts that it was OK to use for self-defense the same firearms that they use in their sport - the rationale being that they're already proficient with them and there's not really a need to go buy the latest (this next quote from TtB) "target pistol or a bear-slayer. It doesn't have lasers or adjustable carbon fiber diode gas-impinged night sights."
He's right, of course. Except that, when it comes to guns, fishing gear, knives, motorcycles, cars, trucks, boats, and power tools, we're just as helpless as wimmin-folk with a Lord & Taylor or Sanger Harris sale flyer.
Fortunately, I have the Kryptonite to combat this proliferation of all things fun - abject poverty. One tends not to over-indulge on toys when one is running low on funds. And I've long since weaned myself from plastic money.
Still, if I had free cash flow of, say, $1100, it would be tempting to follow Mr. Venturino's advice with a self-defense rig right out of the '70s - the 1870s that is.
I got a text message at 6:38 a.m., informing me that it would be casual dress at the office today, which was supposed to open at 10:00. The late start afforded me the opportunity to sleep in a bit, and savor a very nice breakfast of whole wheat toast, stacked with two poached eggs, a sausage patty, and covered in chili (sort of a deer camp breakfast), with grape juice and coffee.
Just as I was about to leave the house, I got another text message: "Office Closed".
So, I spent the day productively, watching John Wayne's McLintock (1963), and playing with the dog.
Today, fellow scribe Todd the Blogger posted about the lowly AMT .380 Backup. According to Mr. The Blogger's research, it's the Rodney Dangerfield of concealed carry handguns.
While the .380 ACP caliber is definitely on the light side of what I'd want to carry into a gunfight (it's called 'Backup' for a reason), I'd sure be happy to have it over nothing at all, and its concealability serves to make that a viable option. And actually, stoked with the right ammo, it's more than capable of halting an aggressor, or at least buying time to save your skin.
I agree with Mr. The Blogger that despite the barbs thrown its way, my little AMT has, like Tonto, proved a faithful companion, though thankfully I've never fired it in anger or even had a situation in which I had to brandish it. Mine is of the older, single action variety, featuring both a grip safety and a thumb-actuated safety just forward of the left grip panel. But I see no reason why it shouldn't have wood grips - and so it does.
And, all else aside, it's always better than this:
(A rock, like the ones they put on your wife's back at the spa)
I attended a funeral mass today for the lady who'd been secretary at my high school for about a decade before I was there and a few years after. 90 years old, she was always very nice to me, and apparently everyone she met, as well.
Here's a service of a different stripe, sent to me by a former co-worker.
I didn't know this before, but Ebenezer means "stone of help" in the Bible. It looks like thisin the Hebrew. You're welcome, I thought you'd recognize it.
But, it's probably a good thing I'm not the outreach director of this church. There are many temptations that I can resist, but I'm relatively certain I wouldn't be able to refrain from putting a message up in December saying: "Attend our Christmas Eve services, special appearance by the Holy Spirit of Christmas Past, Present and Future."
Actually, I'm not sure there'd be anything wrong with that...