It's awkward and uncomfortable for a few days, getting sleepy and going to bed at the right Time by body but wrong Time by clock, then arising at the right Time by clock but wrong Time by body, too early and drowsy. This stupid Daylight Savings Time that only seems to fool imbecilic politicians who are such asses at each others throats as to argue about it. Jiminy Christmas, let it go, for Kyrie's sake, we don't need this. Although there is that: it does give fools something to argue about twice a year whereas they only get to argue about the Electoral College once every four years.  In this morning's early dawning, out on StAndrewsBay, a strange craft glided by just off 7H. I should have gone out to snap an image of it, but the wind is a bit stiff for going out into, SSE at 11 mph, which is in the face. Actually if I remember boxing the compass it's more like E by SSE.  But instead of a seascape my picture is this morning's extraordinary breakfast: ...

  CDT starts in a few hours when Sunday 0200 instantly becomes Sunday 0300 and the day has 23 hours instead of 24.  During World War Two there was talk about Daylight Savings Time when I remember being told that it was so the shipyard workers building Liberty Ships at Wainwright Shipbuilding would have more daylight hours after knocking off work for the day, time for grocery shopping and to enjoy being outside with their kids. So, I had the idea that it was new at the Time, but it was not new at all. A Wikipedia article takes it back more than a hundred years anyway.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daylight_saving_time Not at all, but if they must do it, instead of Sunday, they should start it on Saturday, but they start it on Sunday so people who forget, of which there's a passel of 'em, will be either too late or too early for church. That's why DST starts on Sunday, no big national economic consequence for oversleeping like there would be if it started, s...

  Thursday now, this was meant for yesterday, to be Wednesday's blogpost. But before it was half-finished, Life co-opted the Time, and here we are. Resuming, I'll not press "Publish" for whatever this morning's +Time blogpost turns out to be, until I find a suitable image, a picture to head it up (mind, it only has to be suitable to me, suiting you is not a factor), but for now the jumping fingers are working to convert whatever's bothering my brain to whatever shows up on the page.  The +Time page, that is, and then a link to it on my Facebook page if discretion is so indelicate. All while snacking breakfast, which Wednesday was the second Blue Willow spoof mug of hot & black from my coffee club February treat, and, on a bread plate of the Wedgwood Blue Florentine with serpent tongues weaving through oxen skull eye sockets, an open face sandwich of brown seed bread, light spread of Hellmann's and, the piece de resistance, two slices of liver loaf that...

  March 7, 1923, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" is published.  Then and always a favorite, again perhaps because I watched and heard him read it fall 1953 and spring 1954 in an auditorium my freshman year at UnivFlorida in Gainesville. Robert Frost, whom we had read at Bay High, and maybe at Cove School, lived seasonally between Florida and Vermont, and stopped here and there for evening readings as he drove back and forth spring and fall, Gainesville on his regular list and a major draw for enthusiastic crowds. Those visits, he would have been  79 and 80 years old. Me, I was 18, away from home, experiencing independence and determined never to let go of it, which obviously I broke in 1959 when I decided to make a career of the U S Navy. College freedom meant making my own decisions, or none such as never bothering to change my bed all semester, whereas Philip my roommate changed his bed every week.  Living for the moment, I guess, certain I was gro...

  Fog, another foggy morning out, why? As Ross Whitley teaches, it's because the temperature is 62 and the dew point is 62. Humidity 99% and Wind SE 2 mph. Out the Beck window I can see downtown StAndrews but on the Bay side cannot even see the wrecked shrimp boat that's right out there in my front yard. Fog will clear up by when? IDK, no matter to me, so far as I know we have no plans for today.  Oh, the Volvo, Kristen's car for ten years, now my car since  Joe adopted the seventeen year old Cadillac, has a burned out headlight again, the left side low beam lightbulb, what's causing that? Maybe I'll drop it by BayTown. But that would involve changing out of my house clothes, exercise outfits that double as pajamas. Anon, anon. Life in 7H is somewhat casual, though only one of us is a slob. Current book, "The Fire" by German historian Jörg Friedrich. So far, it's as thoroughly researched and meticulously detailed as Halprin's "A Soldier of the...

  I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills,    from whence cometh my help? My help cometh from the Lord,    who made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved:    he that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold, he that keepeth Israel    shall neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is thy keeper:    the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand. The sun shall not smite thee by day,   nor the moon by night. The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil:    he shall preserve thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out  and thy coming in    from this time forth, and even for evermore. +++++++ Psalm 121, among verses and passages of Scripture my mother helped me learn as a boy. Good for a lifetime, those memory verses never go away - - this ancient Hebrew song of hope and faith claiming the promises of God. Today, following our Genesis reading, Psalm 121 echoes the faith of Abraham ->  trus...

Sunday: "Welcome, happy morning!" age to age shall say. Hell today is vanquished, Heaven is won today! Blogging late and short. Sunday mornings when it's my day in the pulpit I get up at three o'clock, work over my sermon notes, Linda has breakfast ready for us at five o'clock, and at five-ten I like to go back to bed for an hour's nap. This morning, work on the sermon was more refurbishing than just usual, so Time slipped until it was too late for my postprandial nap. No matter. 11:54 Saturday morning, finished a small glass of a nice red, an Argentine Malbec that I bought to enjoy with Sunday's planned steak dinner from Bill's new store, Grocery Outlet in StAndrews, our new go-to grocery that's so close I could walk and push my own cart there and back if I weren't so sorry.  Crushed by Hurricane Michael, literally a pile of broken concrete blocks with a roof squashing meat, eggs, fruit and vegetables, it's taken them four and a half years...