Saith The Husband… Two Bears

Saith the dad…   If two male bears live in the same cave, it might be time for one to find a new cave.


Saith the mom…    It seems it is time for a cub to move out – or at least vacate the kitchen.


Saith the cubs…   *Laughter*



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Old or Just Classic?

My daughter just informed me that when she searches online for ‘old’ quotes, statements written in the 1970s and 1980s show up. This, she says, means that people who lived then must also be old.

She may be correct as classic cars are between 30 and 49 years old. However, I prefer ‘classic’ to ‘old’, but will draw the line at ever being called ‘pre-antique’.

Truck 03

Intervention versus Peacekeeping

What was I thinking when I doubled up on these two history classes?

Intervention or peacekeeping.

One is good and one is bad. One is wrong and one is right. One should work and one should not.

But there is no consensus as to which is which. Are they not just the same thing with different names?

In the end, are they not simply outside entities imposing a course of action on a weaker, more chaotic entity or region?

Isn’t it all just about the spin which is placed on the action?

Speaking of spin, this makes my head spin and I need a nap.

A break from historical analysis…

Just as I passed the halfway point in my current research paper, family interruptions led to a very strange conversation about space exploration and conspiracy theories.

Yes, this strangeness which I am about to reveal is all my fault. I am easily swayed from my paper on CIA interventions, and my creative energy has been begging me to focus on something utterly ridiculous.

So with all the seriousness I could muster, I informed my family that a combined space army of Imperial Storm Troopers and Klingons were poised to attack. The Death Star was in position, cloaked, and ready to fire on the Earth. If, however, it failed to cause magnificent destruction, an enormous herd of Tribbles would be let loose on humanity, thereby eradicating the sanity of the Earth population and making Earth irrelevant to the intergalactic order.

This bizarre conversation, and sorely needed break from my less-than uplifting historical inquiry, inspired an odd thought.

Life is really just a conspiracy to bring about our eventual death.

The Joy of Writing Battles with the Need for Sleep

There is something quite nice about writing late at night when the house is quiet. There is such a temptation to write until dawn.

But while the family would understand my crazy desire, it is probably not prudent to risk altering my sleep schedule.

Since I have reached the halfway mark and am at a good transition point, I will be prudent and go to bed.

Oh, but how I miss the days when a few hours sleep would offset an all-nighter at the computer.