Now that I've sold my Nikon kit, here's my current (perhaps not final) photographic process.

I took this on automatic with my Google P9P—f/2.8, 1/115, 18mm, ISO50, 50MP, JPG.  I will continue to experiment.

I uploaded the image to Google Photos and downloaded it from there to my computer.

I opened it as a RAW file in Photoshop Elements and adjusted it. Then I cropped it 5 x 5 at 300 dpi and watermarked it. Once finished, I backed it up on my NAS.

I know that it is not a very interesting photo, but it works as an experiment and as an example of what I can do without my D850. It sure was easy.

All I have been listening to for the last two weeks is Bob Seger's tunes. Damn.

I have always liked his music, but he was never a favorite. I never bought any of his albums, 8-tracks, cassettes, or CDs.

On a whim, I clicked on Spotify's "This is Bob Segar" playlist.  I was amazed at how many of his songs were still in the memory banks, word for word. That comes, I assume, via the magic of Hit Radio.

And the old boy is still out there making great music.

SGM, my granddaughter, said I could have Lamby to keep me company while she was at school today. This is big.

Lamby has been with her since Manhattan, Kansas, when she got home from the hospital (I think). She's SGM's best friend and goes with her everywhere except school.

This trip she and I have spent a lot of time reading the Greek myths, coloring, and building a Lego castle for Ariel together.

If you are in Alexandria, I highly recommend this place. Admittedly, it is very convenient to my daughter's house, but it's easy to get to from anywhere, located at 1552 Potomac Greens Drive, and parking on the streets close by is abundant and free.

This place has a wide range of delicious gourmet sandwiches. So far, I've tried the Chicken De Lovely, the My Way Italian, and the Cherry Blossom Toastie. Kady gets the BLT on a baguette every time.

They also have beer and wine and top off your sandwich with Highway 11 chips. They have a fun breakfast menu, a simple kid's menu, a few salads, and an ice cream selection.

I can walk there in about 10 minutes.

It's my fave place up here.

I'm watching my number 2, Iva Jović, play CoCo Gauff in the Rome Open. Throughout the second set, two idiot flyboys from Italy's 5th-ranked* Frecce Tricolori made multiple passes in their jets.

Have they nowhere else to fly in their tiny little country?.

*1- USAF Thunderbirds, 2- US Navy Blue Angels, 3- RAF Red Arrows, 4- Patrouille de France, and 5- All Others 

While I'm in Alexandria visiting my daughter's family, their dog is mine. I do all of his feedings and walks. I clean his bowls regularly, make sure he always has fresh water, take him to pee and poo in the same area, and feed him on a schedule that he loves. He really responds to my attention and consistency.

It goes like this:

• He wakes up about 0700 to go out for his morning pee.

• I feed him breakfast as soon as we get back. This is also my breakfast, coffee, and news time.

• He has nap time until he is ready to poo.

• Long-walk time happens sometime during the day. Sometimes he chooses; sometimes I do.

• Short walks and mini-pees happen throughout the day, anytime he asks, usually when he's bored. These are sniffing walks.

• Dinner is at 1800, not when he puts his paw in his bowl or my lap begging. He understands me when I say, "It's not time, buddy."

• We take a poo and pee walk at 1930, before bedtime.

This is my most important note so far this year. Jimmy John's has brought back their Thai Chicken Wrap. Go get one!

You can thank me later.

Kady's sister was hard to know and, at times, difficult to like, though I thought I got along with her better than my brother's wife. Sisters-in-law!

She had a degree in photography and made some good photos, but her passion was ill-placed. She loved taking photos of orbs and spooky things, convinced they were from some other spiritual realm. She lived in the basement of her dad's house, in an environment, if you believed her photos, filled with ghosts, spirits, and demons.

Always skeptical, I snuck downstairs to have a look-see when she was out of the house. Her lens was filthy. Her camera had an attached flash directly above the lens, and the mirror she always pointed at was dusty. Textbook, Orb City!

I was very excited that this year, the nesting pair of eastern bluebirds returned to my mom's birdhouse. They spent a couple of weeks building while I watched. At first, they were very wary of me but became more comfortable as time went on.

Yesterday morning, I went outside to fill the feeder and noticed a lot of nesting material hanging out of the entrance hole. My next clue that something was badly amiss was loads of bluebird feathers all over the back porch.   

My male bluebird was dead. Something had reached into the hole and pulled him out. I'm guessing since I found no carcass and by the amount of neatly plucked feathers that it was a hawk or crow, but it could have been many things—house sparrow, cat, squirrel, or raccoon. Probably not a snake.

Kady and I watched all that day and part of today to see if the female was still nesting. We didn't see her.

I cleaned out the house this afternoon and found two eggs. I put them out in the grass to let nature take its course.

I'm never putting that house back up. If I want bluebirds, I'll need a proper house with a smaller entrance, on a baffled pole, with a predator guard.

The Donald says the "war" with Iran is over, Operation Epic Fury is finished, and now we're conducting Project Freedom to open the Straits of Hormuz to international shipping.

Now Project Freedom is "paused" as he hopes to "make a deal" with Iran while we blockade their ports to apply pressure.

To me, all this wishy-washy talk means only one thing: The conflict with Iran is not over.

If we have to make a deal with them and try to open the straits instead of dictating terms to them, then they have not lost and we have not won. We may have beaten them up a bit, maybe a lot, but their ability to strike their neighbors and interdict the straits remains evident. What we've really done is to solidify their resolve and hatred and embolden them.

I'm all for kicking the shit out of these toads until they surrender. But I'm also realistic enough to see that we can't do that without a full-scale invasion. The only way to win a war is with infantry . . . and no one wants that.

How stupid does the administration think we are? Renaming the military action there does not change anything. We're still in another war . . . without congressional approval.

When Mom died, I took the little tombstone radio. It didn't work any more, but when it did, we listened to Birmingham radio stations on it, and I used it as an amp for my electric guitar in my teen years.

My goal when taking it was to refurbish it or have someone do it for me. I found that to be economically unfeasible.

I gutted it, replaced the speaker cloth, and found a photo of the old dial plate for the dial face. Next, I bought an AM/FM Sangean radio with a remote, which I shoved in the back. It looks and sounds like the radio still works.

But I've always wanted to play it like a stereo.

Today, I had an epiphany—put your old Amazon Echo Dot in the back!

Now, I can play Spotify in my tombstone cabinet, controlling it with my phone or browser. I'm listening to Foreigner on it. It's not high fidelity, but, then, it never was.

I watched the coolest thing last night.

My son earned his blue belt in a two-hour crucible designed to test his skills and attitude. It ended in what looked to me like a shark attack, where player after player grappled with him, well after he was worn out.

Man! I wish I had done this when I was young so that we could share this together.

I visited Ivy Creek yesterday afternoon for a short walk and to check out the pollinator garden. April is not the right time of year. Though the weather was perfect for a walk and the area much less buggy, the garden has mostly been cut back and is still in the growing stages. I saw only two butterflies—a small skipper and a highly damaged Painted Lady.

It hit me. For a natural area, I see very little wildlife when I'm out there. Yeah, it has birds and bugs, but I rarely see mammals. In all the trips I've made out there, I've only seen one doe.

I chalk it up to the number of people walking the maze of trails and the time of day I usually visit. I should try early evening.

When Pharaoh Akhenaten died, his successors destroyed his monuments and his city. They systematically erased him from Egyptian history for 3000 years.

In 2029, when The Donald is no longer president, we will have to do much the same thing.

From the plaques under the presidential portraits to his name on the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, the U.S. Institute for Peace, and numerous roads and highways, we should remove his name. Even the new National Park's Pass celebrates him.

And he wants more—Dulles International Airport, Trump Accounts, TrumpRX, a Trump gold credit card, and a Trump-faced 24k gold coin for the 250th anniversary of "America."

This megalomaniac mama's boy is now putting his picture, superimposed OVER the Declaration of Independence, with his signature written in gold, on a limited edition 250th commemorative US passport. This is the proverbial last straw for me.

I'm betting we'll have to completely remodel the White House and the new Trump ballroom, from his garish style to something more fitting for a serious nation.

It's going to cost millions, but we have to erase this guy's self-imposed legacy of vanity, and we should send him the bill.

He could have been a great president, had he learned to communicate, stayed off social media, listened to real experts, showed some restraint, and had an ounce of humility.

Charles III stopped by for a visit, hanging out with The Donald, doing other kingly stuff, and speaking to Congress. I watched it.

I was proud of our "lawmakers." They were polite, stood at key points, and applauded enthusiastically. I was happy that I saw only one woman bow. 

His fatherly tone was admonishing, and I didn't take it well. His preaching ruffled my rebellous American feathers.

I agreed with everything he said, but it was a little like when my dad told me I needed to slow down and stop driving so fast. I knew Dad was right, but I also knew I was going to burn up the highway for the rest of my life, just like he did.

Maybe I would have a better attitude had it been QE II. I adored her and considered her my queen. I never had much for Chuck.

Today is Confederate Memorial Day in Alabama and Mississippi, a controversial event to the uneducated, unthinking, uncaring, and untruthful.

This day is set aside on different days throughout the Deep South to honor the men who fought and died defending their homes and families against an invading army.

We're not celebrating the institution of slavery, as many would have you believe; we're celebrating service above self. We are celebrating men who put life, liberty, and happiness on the line for their beliefs in personal liberty and states' rights in the face of Northern aggression.

Should we forget and move on? Where would you have me start?

Should I forget my great-great-grandfather John Neel, who died at Shiloh, or his widow, Carrie, who was left to raise two small children alone in a war-torn Noxubee, Mississippi?

Should I forget my great-great-great-grandfather Andrew Lee, captured during the defense of Richmond and Petersburg, who died in a prisoner of war camp in Hampton Roads, Virginia, a few months before the end of the war, or his wife Mary Ann, left to raise four children in rural Alabama?  

How about I forget a brave young Gershom Williams, who, at 17, joined the 16th Confederate Cavalry and fought throughout Alabama, Mississippi, Georgia, and Tennessee?

Maybe I should forget the occupation of the South by the victors, continuing the destruction of the agricultural economy that prevailed well into the 1940s, and my people who suffered through the resulting abject poverty.

You may have defeated the South in the war, but you will never defeat our memories of what our men and women did or what your ancestors did to them.

Pavia says he's 6 feet tall. He thinks he should have won the Heisman. He doesn't want an agent. He doesn't want to be a backup but wants to be a starting QB in the NFL. The guy has zero humility or self-awareness. He knows he's the best QB in the universe.

Of course, no one else buys into his bullshit, and, no surprise, he went undrafted.

Maybe the Louisville Kings or some other team in the United Football League could use him. Is the Canadian Football League still an option? This is funnier and more satisfying than the rapid fall of Johnny Football Manziel.

I guess it is about time for me to comment on this shitstorm.

Let me begin with the Democrats—most are actually all for this military operation; they just can't be seen supporting anything the president does. Most know that it is high time we correct a problem we created back in the 70s.  

Likewise, most countries in the world support us. The world can no longer tolerate this Islamic regime, the purveyor of so much turmoil in the Middle East.

Every president has tried a different approach, but all have failed. Only this president had had the guts to go after them with the only thing they understand: power.

In the past few weeks, the American military has reduced Iran's warfighting capabilities. We own the sky and the sea around them. We've blocked their ports. The Straits of Hormuz will be opened shortly. They continue to play games but will likely come to the bargaining table soon.

We can't win a war with bombs, so after all this, what will we have left?

The Islamists will still be in charge. We won't commit ground troops, the only sure way to eject them from power. Time is on their side.

They will never be a friendly nation to us or the world. They hate the "Great Satan" and will willingly die for their religious aims to destroy us and Israel. It would be an act against Allah to become friends with the United States. They will agree to terms so they can rebuild their offensive, defensive, and power projection capabilities.

Still, They Needed Bombing.

In less than ten years, we'll be right back where we are now. We'll have to go after them again.

The only other way to fix this is to arm the Persians in Iran in a civil war to defeat the current regime, with the aim of reinstalling the Shah to the throne. The ensuing death toll, refugee crisis, and environmental/economic catastrophe of that plan would be nothing any sane person would want.

Are you tired of Grammarly? I am, or I was.

I decided, today, that I had had enough. I began looking for another Chrome extension to replace it.

I am trying out "QuillBot," which seems to do the same thing but faster and without all of the pop-ups and rewording suggestions. It lets you write like you. It highlights all my double spaces after sentences, but that helps me stay consistent.

It works great in Sites, Gmail, and Docs.

I'm liking it.

Wassup, Alabama? Where is all this great music coming from all of a sudden? Wherever, it's a welcome change.

I was so tired of the BS about Alabama Shakes. They're just terrible. I'm tired of Jason Isbell. I never had anything for Little Big Town or The Band Perry. I am probably the only person from Alabama who doesn't like the band Alabama. I loved Allison Moorer, but she didn't last.

My first clue to this rise came with Ella Langley—pretty, talented, and producing smart songs. Then I found Riley Green. I like his stuff a lot, especially the Alabama references. Now, I'm on to Muscidine Bloodline and Red Clay Strays.

I dig it, kids. Keep making that Alabama music!

Artemis is finally on its way to the moon. Launch was a great show!

Kady watched it on CNN, while I watched it on NASA TV. CNN was on a huge delay; we assumed "just in case." I ran downstairs at T minus 2 minutes to watch it with her. I also texted my kids to remind them, and we texted with Jay throughout. I heard from my daughter this morning that SGM loved it. We enjoy this stuff.

NASA TV did a really good job of introducing astronauts Reid Wiseman (Commander), Victor Glover (Pilot), Christina Koch (Mission Specialist), and Jeremy Hansen (Mission Specialist). Impressive people. These kids are currently orbiting the earth but will soon be on their way, looping around the moon, conducting tests, and practicing maneuvers, preparing for our landing in 2027. This morning they conducted a perigee burn to move to a higher, more stable orbit.

This is GREAT!

Yesterday, Star Link announced that it had lost contact with another satellite (34343), and LeoLabs reported that it is tracking "tens" of objects from what they describe as a "fragment creation event."

Tens?  I assume that means more than twenty trackable fragments, plus more too small to track, all traveling at 17,000 mph. So, what happened? Odds are that something slammed into it. Low Earth orbit (LEO) is becoming more congested, with more than 10,000 satellites.

LeoLabs says the "anomaly" was caused by "internal energetic forces" and that the fragments would "de-orbit" in the next few weeks. Ok, sure.

We're on the verge of what many scientists predict will be a collapse of the LEO constellation by a collision-induced chain reaction called the Kessler Syndrome. Even the smallest bit of junk traveling at 17,000 mph packs incredible kinetic energy. A 1cm fragment packs the punch of a hand grenade, and, as I think we're seeing, one impact produces many more bits of junk.

Starlink says there is no threat to the International Space Station (ISS) or tomorrow's Artemis launch. Yeah, that's what they think; they don't know.

It is only going to get worse.

Planning through the winter months, Kim put up her bird charcuterie board the other day.  She went all out to make it inviting to the birds. She put together a potting stand, plants, water, different foods, and a little feeding stand with two trays.

It took less than an hour for "our" mockingbird and a blue jay to find it. I saw a chickadee there yesterday.

A squirrel found it shortly thereafter. He camps out there, eating everything in sight, and runs off when he hears me touch the doorknob.  

It's a losing battle.

It’s no secret that I don’t do math. I do have common (uncommon?) sense and a scientific perspective about most things.

Quantum mechanics is NOT one of those things.

Listening to an Ologies episode on the subject (Episode: 116) showed me that I’m not the only one; physicists and mathematicians don’t know either.

Dr. Becker (the guest expert) described a lack of consensus, arguments, more theories than science should allow, and a lot of bullheaded behavior. I’ll probably go to the grave believing it’s all a shitload of malarkey created by a bunch of eggheads trying to make the next big breakthrough.

I follow al.com. I guess there is still some Alabamian pride inside me. I wonder about this. Some people might call me a Birmingham hater. That's not true. I love Birmingham, and I hope one day they'll figure out their massive issues.  

Until then, I can't go home again.

There is a voice for change out there. A guy named David Sher writes an opinion column for the site called Comeback Town, which is, mostly, wishful thinking or pie-in-the-sky stuff.

Case in Point: In his latest, he suggests refreshing the Alabama Walk of Fame outside the old Alabama Theater, adding some new stars. Comparing it to Hollywood's WoF, he says, "A dynamic Alabama Walk of Fame wouldn’t be just a tourist attraction—it could be an economic engine. It could draw visitors who eat at our restaurants, stay in our hotels, shop in our stores, and Instagram their photos with their favorite star. "

Oh, yeah. I'm going to drive ten hours to one of the most dangerous and corrupt cities in America so I can post a photo of myself next to Fannie Flagg's star on Instagram. While I'm there, I'll check into a hotel, eat at some restaurants, and do some shopping.

Buddy, people go to the Hollywood Walk of Fame because they are already in Hollywood. It is one of the many things to do there. What's there to do in Birmingham? Vulcan? Economic engine, my ass.

Each year, I beg Kady to let me do more bird things out back—different feeders and different foods to attract different birds. I explain. I beg. I try to educate. Mostly, she's been supportive, but it's been a slow process.

Then, she sees a YouTube video of a guy who builds a charcuterie board for all the birds. This morning, this is what was on its way from Amazon, plus a potting stand for her bird charcuterie board.

I just finished the book Close-Up on War, The Story of Pioneering Photojournalist Catherine Leroy in Vietnam by Mary Cronk Farrell. It is a beautifully bound, well-written little book, filled with amazing photos and stories of the war. I suggest it to anyone interested in America's involvement in that war as a companion to more detailed accounts.

In it, you'll meet Catherine Leroy, a 5-foot-tall, 89-pound, twenty-year-old French girl, who left home, camera in hand, to make a name for herself as a war photographer.  

It is an amazing story of heroism, photographing the war for three years in many of the hottest battles and even jumping in with the 187th Regimental Combat Team.

I just read a bullshit article on the "rules" for men wearing rings at The Art of Manliness website. Who Wrote THIS Shit? So Wrong! Absolutely NOT!

Here are the actual rules straight from Neel 505 World:

1. Men get two, possibly three rings.

2. The Third finger on your left hand is for the wedding ring your WIFE gave you. If you are not married, wear an optional ring, preferably a simple signet.

3. The Third finger on your right hand is for a symbol of excellence—a service ring (preferably 82nd Airborne), a class ring (preferably VMI), or a sports championship ring (SEC or some lesser conference, national, or Super Bowl).

4. Your small finger on one of your hands, not both, is for displaying a ring honoring something—some god, your heritage, a parent, a lost spouse, etc.

5. There is no symbolism for wearing rings on your other fingers. That's some made-up bullshit by some hipster boy who thinks he's pretty.

Also, men, you do not wear earrings unless you are a pirate. Pirates can wear earrings.

Good Show, solid storyline, great acting, and high babe content, plus MICHELLE PFEIFFER!  

Highly Recommend.

Don't read anything about this show; there are a lot of spoilers out there. With only six episodes, released over only two weeks, you need to get into it cold.

Tonight, we went to Riverfront Seafood in Kingsport, TN. I, of course, had their shrimp and Grits. "Creole cheese grits with Cajun butter-sautéed shrimp, and a sourdough baguette" read like a winner, and it was. Though the grits were "cheesy," they were delicious. 

I loved it.  Bless them; they even gave me a spoon to eat with.

"Sadly, there will likely be more [soldier deaths] before it ends; that's the way it is." ~ Trump

Fun Facts:

• Trump never served a day in the military. The closest he ever came was five years in a military high school.

• In four generations, spanning back to 1869, no member of the Trump family has ever served in the military.

• Barron is 19 years old, still living with his mom while attending NYU.

• Trump has no skin in this game.

I've always said, if you don't have dog tags, you should not be in a position of leadership or authority in the United States. Like in Heinlein's Starship Troopers, military service should also be a requirement for citizenship.

Would The Donald be so dismissive of the deaths of our service members if his son were in the army? Would he be so ready to send our sons and daughters to war? Would any of the toads in Washington, DC send their kids?

Barron! You can fix this. Sneak down to the army recruiter and enlist. Raise your right hand and sign the contract. I suggest Airborne Infantry and a duty station of Vicenza, Italy, as far away from the flagpole as you can get. Be your own man.

Tuesday, 3 March 2026

I'm not sure about this show yet. I watched it last night and, again, this morning, just to make sure I didn't miss anything. So, Monika is dead. Cancer? We don't know, but they hint at it. A SEAL buddy recruits Kayce to join his improbable team of US Marshals, and the story goes sideways from there.

Come on, man! When you go deep in the backwoods, on horseback, looking for terrorists, you go armed to the teeth, not with pistols; otherwise, you don't need to carry all those rifle magazines in your vest. You should probably wear a helmet and definitely carry water. AND, you don't go hunting bad guys wearing a sleeveless, hot-girl crop top. 

This was typical Hollywood glaring stupidity.

I'm not quitting . . . yet. Maybe it'll get better.

Sergeant Major Henry Behr died yesterday. He was a fine man and the best boss I ever had. He taught his first sergeants how to be first sergeants, not by close supervision, but by giving us sound advice from his many years of experience.

The man survived MACV-SOG in Vietnam. He was the consummate warrior, paratrooper, and leader.

Rest, Trooper.

Re: The investigation into the Boeing Starliner fiasco

"Investigators identified an interplay of combined hardware failures, qualification gaps, leadership missteps, and cultural breakdowns that created risk conditions inconsistent with NASA’s human spaceflight safety standards." ~ NASA.gov

Duh.  

The article then said, "NASA will continue to work closely with Boeing..."  

Huh?

Boeing has problems. Is it going to take dead astronauts for NASA to realize this? Fire Boeing. Cancel their contracts. Dump this program as a redundant, backwards-looking failure. 

Let's use our heads for something other than a hat rack for a moment, shall we?

Let's say you meet a person who believes he is Napoleon. He is dressed like Napoleon, and he even speaks a little French. He loves being in charge.

Note: If I remember my history, Napoleon died in 1821 on the island of Saint Helena.

So, do you accept that he is Napoleon when he demands that you do? Do you treat him like an emperor? Or do you realize that he's either full of bull or needs professional help?

Why, then, do we kowtow to people who say that they are what they clearly are not? They may actually believe they are what they say. They may dress the part, speak the language, and alter their bodies to fit their beliefs.

They are either bullshitting or delusional.

As a society, we need to recognize that we are in the midst of a national mental health crisis. We need to stop pandering to people's fantasies and get them the help they need.

I'm building a page for my favorite photos of Türkiye . . . finally. I've tried before, but I wimp out every time. I'm taking this slowly, trying to get each shot "just right."

There's a link at the bottom of my Photos page, or you can click here.

Watch Me Build & Wish Me Luck.

I've challenged myself—walk 250 miles for America's 250th anniversary. It sounded daunting until I did the math. That's only 1.76 miles a day. Doable.

I built a spreadsheet to keep track.

I love a good mystery. This is one of my favorite family mysteries—The Johnson Family Photo.

In this photo are my grandmother Evie; her sister Lillie, and her brother Dolphus. Behind them are my great-great-grandfather, James William Johnson, and his wife, Cornelia Ann Winter.

Or is it? My mom once said, "This could be his sister (Aunt Addie Blanch "Dolly" Lee Kilpatrick), from after Cornelia died."

It all comes down to when it was taken.

Cornelia died on 28 June 1911. If this is Cornelia, the photograph was taken before then. Dolphus was born in 1897, Evie in 1899, and Lillie in 1905. How old do they look? They would have been about 14, almost 12, and 5½, respectively, when their mom died.

I asked Kady how old she thought Lilly looked. "Hard to tell...maybe 4 - 6ish."

Big Help!

I think this is Cornelia in a photo taken just before she died. It looks like an Easter photo to me.

Or could it have been taken at the funeral?

I've asked these questions over and over. Why are we in such a rush to get back to the Moon? What are the benefits of establishing a permanent presence there? Wouldn't our scientific energies be better spent saving the only home humanity will ever have? 

I think I've figured it out.

The Donald wants to claim the whole of Luna for the United States of America. He has to get back there while he's still in office, plant another flag, and stake his claim.

Artemis II, NASA's mission to send four astronauts around the Moon as the next step toward establishing a sustained manned presence on the Moon, is about to launch. I will be watching, just like I watched every Apollo mission.

The cold weather in Florida is slowing things down a bit, but the launch looks like 5 February. *

After watching our first moon landing, I went to youth choir practice, arriving a little late. When the director asked why I was late, and I told him I was watching the landing, he asked, "Was that today?" Some of my friends didn't even know we were going to the moon. I looked at them like they had penises growing out of their foreheads.

Don't make me give YOU that look.

22 February: Launch rescheduled for March is delayed a second time due to a helium flow problem. Now scheduled for April.

I'm still Team Andreeva. She's doing well at the Australian Open, winning handily against tough opponents. Tomorrow morning, she has a tough match against Svitolina, who is also playing good tennis.

Learning my Auburn fan lesson of choosing a fallback team, Ole Miss, I've been trying to find another player to adopt. I wanted a young American, but Collins is unlikable, I never warmed to Gauff, and Navarro is too rich. Pegula, Stevens, Keys, and Kenin are inconsistent.

Knowing this, Kady asked, "Have you seen Iva Jović (pronounced YO-vitch)? "No," I answered. "You'd like her—she's American, really good, and super cute."

I checked her out.

She, too, is on a good run in Australia, winning her first three games. She is a first-generation American of Serbian immigrant parents, and she is definitely cute. She just took down Paolini in straight sets, 6-2, 7-6.

She looks like she is having a blast every time she hits the ball. I'm for her.

Later: Both of my players are out. They played well.

Last night's College Football Championship game was legit and the best, most exciting game we've seen in years. I'm really happy for Indiana. I cheered for them as if they were Auburn and called them "us" and "we" the entire game. Kady cheered harder for them than most Indiana fans.

I have to feel for Miami, even though I don't like them. Their blocked punt, missed field goal, and interception sealed their fate. Their offense outscored Indiana's by a point. I'm glad they did well—it gives the Ole Miss program, my new fallback team, legitimacy. My family is from Mississippi after all.

This win for Indiana proves there is a disturbance in the SEC force.

If you know me, you know that my favorite singer-songwriter is Dan Fogelberg. I believe him to be the poet of my generation. There are people on social media who feel the same way.

Back in my Motion Industries days, my buddy Ron Stith asked if I had heard "the song Souvenirs." I hadn't, so I turned on the little radio on my workbench back in the hydraulic warehouse and waited. It was an instant hit with me. His music has been a big part of my life for 52 years.

I saw him in concert, just before he died, on June 4, 2002, at the Portsmouth Ntelos Pavilion. I sat in the center of the front row, among people my age, who also knew the words to every song. The concert was small, close-up, and very personal for us all. We sang our hearts out.

Internet commentators consistently reference his commercial hits, Longer, Same Old Lang Syne, Leader of the Band, and Run for the Roses, as examples of his artistry and talent.

They have not done due diligence on his body of work.

You should give a listen to every song. You'll find treasure among them.

Clearly, I have a LOT to learn.  

I took this last night as Jupiter was high in the sky, setting my Seestar in my window on Dad's old drawing board, held in place by two C-clamps.

The conditions weren't right.  There is far too much ambient light in front of my house, and the night sky was a little hazy.  I need to pick a clear night and get up on the Blue Ridge Parkway in the Spring.

Every image I captured was overexposed and blurry; I need to learn to set the exposure time and aperture.  I clearly have a lot to learn.

I have from now until late April to get my shit together.  Currently, I can do a lot better than this with my D850 and 500mm lens, and with less effort.  I may do that tonight to show a comparison.

I'm really interested in seeing how well this thing does deep sky stack photography.  Look out, Andromeda; I'm coming for you.

Jupiter with Ganymede, Io, Europa, and Calisto, Seestar S50, Adjusted with PSE.

Sunday, 11 January 2026

Ally Ward has done it again—sent me down a fun new rabbit hole. I finally finished the fromology episodes on her Ologies podcast. I'm all about cheese now and dead set on building the perfect cheese board. Her guest expert, Kyra James, gives some good advice on this at the end of episode 2. I also have Kady, who is knowledgeable in all things food-related.

So, what am I thinking?

• Cheese: a sharp cheddar, a gouda, a French camembert, a Swiss Gruyere, a Greek feta, and a Wisconsin blue

• Pairing: grapes, cornichons, pickled onions, black olives, salami, and prosciutto

• Jelly: Stonewall Kitchen Mint and Blackberry Patch Maple bacon

• Breads: Baguette, Crostini, and Carr's Table Crackers

• Drink: Tea and Wine (I know my people)

When? My birthday is a few days away. Maybe then. It's time to go to Foods of the World and Tilman's.

I'll have to build a fromology library. There's a Cheese for Dummies; I need that.

I was cheering for Ole Miss. Sadly, they scored too quickly, leaving Miami plenty of time to score again to take the lead. Too bad. At least they don't have to play Indiana.

Indiana is the perfect college team. They crushed Oregon almost as badly as they embarrassed Alabama. Oregon did its part to ensure defeat; it was a mess.

I expect Miami is in for the same kind of ass-whipping.

Kim's uncle sent me a Seestar S50. This man is extremely nice, a lot of fun, and has a lot of time on his hands. He loves anything film- and photo-related.

He collected camera equipment during his life, and he has passed several cameras on to me—a Polaroid SX-70, a Mamiya 6, and a Contax T2. After one passing comment about my interest in astronomy, this fun little contraption arrived in the mail.

I really need to stop telling him shit.

I'm in the learning phase of using it; it is not as easy as it seems. If I could get a clear night here in C'ville, that'd be GREAT!

Jupiter is in opposition tomorrow, and the sky promises, once again, to be cloudy.

All my tests looked good. My blood work was solid. The CT scan with contrast showed no signs of recurrence. I have three months off with no appointments. It is time to get strong again.

This news is a breath of fresh air and a motivator.

Mix Together:

1 pkg. lemon jello

1 pkg. Duncan Hines white cake mix

Add:

¾ cup Kraft oil

¾ cup water

Beat in 4 eggs, one at a time

Bake in greased floured tube pan at 325 - 350 degrees for 1 hour

Glaze: Heat together 1½ tbsps. milk, 1 tspn. butter, and 1 cup confectioner's sugar.  Add 2 tbsps. lemon juice and 1 tsp. grated lemon rind.  Pour over cake while hot.

International law, justification, and consequences aside, I do love a good military operation.  It was Impressive!

Relax.  Let's wait and see what happens.

Congrats to Indiana for making the semifinals, despite having a first-round bye. They are for real, crushing Alabama 38 - 3. We can only assume that Bama, who shouldn't have been there, thought their big name would intimidate the Hoosiers. I called this one.

The Bye Curse took THE $35M Ohio State (sucks to be you) by a much better Miami; Texas Tech in a no-surprise ass-whoopin' (it was sad) by Oregon; and Georgia (hahahahahahahahahaha) to an inspired Ole Miss (Hotty Toddy).

It was a good start to the new year for me.

Happy New Year!

I'm hoping for a much better year; 2025 was a bastard. Two surgeries, innumerable tests and biopsies, four rounds of chemo, and constant discomfort do not make for a good time. I've kept my head up and maintained a positive attitude, both of which have been supported by the encouragement of Kady, my family, and friends.

Kady is my Rock.

I'll know more after another CT scan, EKG, and blood test on 7 January. I have great confidence that I'll get a good report and that we can move up from here. I'm already feeling more comfortable and stronger.