Don't be stupid

I mean seriously. There's no firetrucking way a fat, old, half-crippled, hate-monger, rapist, and victimizer can walk all the way from John o' Groats to Land's End via Dilwyn and Yeovilton. Or verse-visa.

And isn't it strange that blooger/gurgle can't spell most of the vocabulary of the English language. Are all you p.c. and "AI's Rule!" (secret) readers of this blog sure you want those people and algoreythms in charge? Butt I digress.

So having suitcased the probability of my ability to execute the mission and discovered it to be physically and statistically impossible, I gave up.

On worrying about impossibilities.

And continued to slog away physically, to work the impossible problem cognitively, and to keep right on seeking (and always finding) spiritual help with the heavy lifting.

After poking around a bit to try to get a handle on cross-pond travel logistics I had another idea. What about catching a freighter? There are some real possibilities there. It would be far cheaper and quicker to fly. Something about making it a sea voyage seems somehow right though. That's how I got to Blighty in the first place. Probably much less bureaucratic security bullshit too. And I really hate being herded around like firetrucking livestock. Freighter rates look like $100/day, and east coast to Southampton trips range from 9-28 days. Just in the tinkering/thinkering stage of course. Good stuff to ponder.

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Yesterday (today, as I write this) was chill and damp, overcast and wintry, a bit light-snowy and a bit breezy (but not bad breezy!).

Air temps had fallen to 23 overnight and a gusty north wind set in around sunrise. By 1130 when I set out on my little power hike the wind had largely died down. Where it had been gusting to 30 earlier, it had fallen off to 10-12 mph.

The cold breeze wasn't exactly pleasant to charge into, but it was slightly warmer at 26 degrees than dawn's 23 degrees and physical exertion soon had me warmed up.



I only went 3.25 miles but I did go as hard as I could while at the same time trying to balance and manage nerve pain via attention to gait. It worked pretty good. At the end of the little 43 minute jaunt I was pretty okay on nerve pain and had kept my heart rate above 110 for the whole shebang.

Red had her usual good time. Nona didn't go as she's still a touch gimpy from two(ish) days ago.

Saturday's warmth (50+ degrees) and warmish southerly wind served to melt most of the recent snow, leaving behind only the hard-frozen drift-glaciers. The lack of snow makes the prairie look completely different.

The drab coloration of winter-dried grasses combined with solidly overcast skies made for less eye-grabbing but nevertheless beautiful vistas. Nature paints a completely different canvas every day, and she always limits herself to the same palette.

Mom fixed me a fabulous lunch. Just what the body ordered!

The rather iffy goal I've accidentally assigned myself is an interesting challenge featuring a complex set of problems to solve. None of that obviates my need to embrace hard physical, mental, and spiritual work today. Or tomorrow, or the next day. Today, despite a lot of exploration, I haven't been able to come up with a veto for the notion.



Jim pointed out in comments that I somewhat resemble the great actor Gerald McRaney. Poor Gerald. He seems to have done well in spite of the handicap. He was also the last guy to be bested by Matt Dillon in a gunfight. In real life Matt Dillon was James Arness, and before that he was plain old James King Aurness, a wounded and decorated American Veteran of the Italian Campaign in World War II. So I'm only separated from Matt Dillon by two degrees. Cool, eh?



Be well and embrace the blessings of liberty.