Life is a bowl of cherries, with pits. Today was both wonderful and annoying. I actually enjoyed watering my garden by hand, painting every linear foot of it with the full-flowing garden hose using only my thumb or fingers for flow control. I can make a different pattern for the different situations, such as a broad flat pattern that I can align with the row that I’m painting, or a fine spray for cleaning of the leaves, or a long solid stream for getting extra distance, and lots more.
That was done in time to drive down to see my morning buddies for an hour. We all had a fine time discussing the world problems and what those people should do to correct the miserable situations they created for themselves. Everything went well so long as we didn’t discuss what we should do about these things. And when I, unfortunately, started trying to describe my proofs that the Drake Plate of Brass was a hoax created by Conan Doyle I was pretty much ridiculed. That made me angry because the things I was showing them were absolutely obvious, to which they agreed, but they insisted you could find anything you were looking for if you just looked hard enough. But I insisted that if you find a watch on the road you must admit there was an intelligence that created it, and when you find Sir Conan Doyle in one continuous strip of letters there had to be an intelligence with a purpose behind that fact. But they insisted that I was projecting things into that artifact and that they could find anything there if they tried hard enough. “Go ahead and prove that,” I said, “by doing it!” but they didn’t want to waste the time.
The Big Picture Book Club is like that too, and there are books that are going to be discussed but not one person reads the book. Except for me. Except for me. So many things about Bend are like that. A lot of stated interest in things, but then not the slightest attempt to actually follow up on the simplest ideas.
A wonderful thing about living in Berkeley is that people actually do things they say they are going to do.