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My life has taken on aspects similar to some of the ones portrayed in the movie, Groundhog Day." Same stuff, different day. So, even though I have little to write and few photos to show, I'm going to post a short epistle.

I lost my camera Fugifilm camera--the one that fits in my pocket. Losing things is a common occurrence in my life but when it didn't surface in three weeks or so, I began to worry about a replacement. I even went as far as resurrecting the ipad that Barbara gave me and then repossessed. Originally, I found the ipad to be quite user unfriendly, but it did take good photos, so I resolved to try it again. Barbara had made extensive use of it during her tenure, and because of (or perhaps in spite of) this, the ipod had become possessed (I think corrupted is the actual term the message displayed, but why quibble over semantics?). After multiple strenuous wrestling matches, over multiple days, I managed to achieve a complete exorcism, and returned the belligerent device to its factory settings, losing all of its' stored information in the process (I didn't need those 500 photos anyway...). AJ was kind enough to help me load a couple of apps (though he was almost as frustrated as I, when we finally finished). At that point, I struck out on my own, took a couple of photos, and attempted to transfer them to my computer using iphoto. The computer benignly suggested that I might want to acquire the latest version of iphoto from the app store before attempting such a daredevil stunt. I traveled to the app store and made polite enquiries about the necessary files, only to be told (after a 45 second wait) that the app store didn't have said files...

At that point, I launched a somewhat more aggressive (desperate?) search for the missing Fugifilm camera, and finally located it in the little bag I took on my last overnight sojurn. Motivation has the potential to work wonders...

If time travel were possible, there is a significant probability that I would rethink the decision made 35 years ago to purchase a Macintosh computer!


One of Parkinson's unpleasantries is sleep pattern disruption. I retire sometime between 10 and midnight, fall asleep sometime between 1 and 3, wake up a couple of times, toss and turn for awhile, then wake up for good between 8 and 10. Some people would salivate at the thought of sleeping that late, but I try to function as if I were still a morning person. Hence I would not score well on a time management evaluation.


For some time now, I have had Sophos Virus Protection on my computer. The computer seemed to be running slower than I would like and freezing at totally inappropriate times, so I decided to have Sophos do a complete scan. I pushed the "scan" button and a little box popped up warning me that, This could take some time." It did take some time...five days to be exact. This is a screen shot from the fourth day, informing me that three million four hundred eighty seven thousand one hundred twenty six of four million one hundred thirty two thousand three hundred twenty three files had been scanned. Sophos identified one suspicious file and deleted the same. Neither the speed nor the freezing behavior has changed (but think of the fun we had...).


I made a rock polisher (tumbler) for a grandchild and, of course, the expectation now is that I will provide one for each grandchild (or at least each family). Many years before it became fashionable to do so, I championed the idea of "re-purposing" items. It takes the bearings, shafts, pulleys, and motor from two worn out swamp coolers to make a tumbler, and even with my junk pile, I had run out of raw material. Nathen, AJ, and Brittney "helped" me re-shingle the north-facing roof of my house (they did it and I watched, much to my chagrin), and while clearing space for a ladder, I encountered a rocker arm assembly that came off an engine I removed from my 1976 Dodge Colt. A few days later, I realized that what I had been looking at was two shafts and five bearings--more than enough for another rock tumbler. Given the corroded condition of the starting material, it took more than a little ingenuity (and a big hammer) but I finally got it apart. Reconditioning it was an undertaking not for the faint of heart. Fabricating the frame was also a bit of an adventure. Arc welding with an active tremor is an experience guaranteed to make even a saint swear, and I'm not much of a saint. I may have even (unintentionally) coined a few new expletives. An angle grinder, body putty, and copious applications of paint made the contraption look semi-reasonable (as long as you don't look at the underside). I derive a modicum of enjoyment out of solving little mechanical problems and spent most of my abbreviated work days for almost three weeks tweaking the project. The tumbler is now functional and is, even as we speak, hard at work, processing its' first load of rocks. (Then again, given that it is using a half horsepower motor to stir a three-pound payload, perhaps "hard at work" is an inappropriate choice of words.)


Tithing settlement has also kept me (as assistance clerk-finance) busy, as will handing out donation summaries (tax info) next month. Doesn't my life sound exciting?

Alan I


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