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Yesteryear

Friday, November 17, 2023

November 17, 2023

Yesteryear
One year ago today: November 17, 2022, play some Deep Purple, man.
Five years ago today: November 17, 2018, my $400 glasses.
Nine years ago today: November 17, 2014,two predictable qualities.
Random years ago today: November 17, 2016, wip

           My longest-term readers know an interruption means action over here. The Friday blog is written on Saturday and the Reb is due out of the hospital. The pets have been my focus and part of that is because I have no aptitude for being a caregiver. I shopped for basics and that meant mainly pet food that rang up $123. The pets, the dogs first, take 48 hours to adjust. According to the Reb, I'm the only person they will leave the house with unless she shunts them out the door. The snag to day is that although we knew she'd be out of the hospital, they did not say when. So I took to raking more leaves. Three hours.
           You get only the abbreviated version today. The morning was cold an drizzly which gave me some pains, but at least it warmed up. I got around a quarter of the back yard done. The Reb looks forward to being home. She is in rough shape, but much more herself knowing she's getting out of hospital mode. I had no time for hobbies or reading. Instead, the doggies got an extra long hike.

          The Reb needs out of that hospital and home where she gets attention 24/7. Hospitals are okay but my opinion is they overmedicate and use generic criteria to do so. And nurses know sedated patients are quiet patients. I forgot the blog memory sticks at home. Unbeleievable chasing around today including locating the right doggie chow, not cheap either.
           I will catch up with the regular posting features soon, I did not bring a computer with me this trip. I left in kind of a hurry and forgot all kinds of things that will be missed shortly. I'll supply the ADDENDUM from memory, where I was talking about the overhead needed to protect investments.

Picture of the day.
Wasp nest.
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           Getting everything shipshape found me listening to the "StarFire" disk, now 10 of 12 and it gets assinine. The Russians finally start launching an anti-satellite attack and the story line switches to diversity and feminism. We have missile lock but need to know how the one woman who is cheating on her boyfriend feels. You guessed it, the one "bad" girl in the script is the White babe.
           I'm reading the "Battle of Big Hole", which was more of a massacre, the kind the US Army found so much fun after the Civil War. The lack of any combat elsewhere meant minimal opportunities for promotion or decorations. This book is a very detailed account of way the US cheated the Indians, but remember the Indians often turned on each other in tribal rivalries and did a lot of the killing for those reasons.

           This reading found a new word, "Toohoolhoolzote". It is the Indian name for the chief of a non-treaty Indian tribe. This has a curious connotation. Tribes that lived near each other were often considered one by the settlers and US government. Not so the tribes, who often did not feel bound by any treaty made by other Indians a few miles away. The Whites did not understand this and why so many Indians did mot move onto the reservations.
           Another often left-out factor is that at the time many Whites thought killing Indians was great sport. This was likely a holdover from earlier times when Indians were using bows and arrows and still counting coup. The Nez Perce this time had some excellent sharpshooters and were picking off soldiers from 800 yards.

           There is an underlying message I'm picking up from the often tedious detail (the book lists the birthplace of each soldier casualty). It seems teams of volunteers attached themselves to army units and were itching for a fight. The army was tasked to keep order. Hence, when an encounter took place, the army stayed put but he volunteers became roudie, not obeying army orders. The old statistic became evidenty, that of every 100 men, one is a leader, four are big-mouth argumentative types, and 95% are undisciplined rabble. More than one, some random shots by the Indian rear-guard scattered the militia like chickens.
           The slightest resistance caused the Whites to stop and start digging in. Later in the day, still no schedule from the Reb, so I did a quick shop at the local Goodwill. Unlike Florida, which is now choked full of third-worlders ready to live out of your garbage can, it is still possible to find good deals at Goodwill.