Notes - h-dreaming, the plausibility? / D's working thesis

         Mid-afternoon. You had a late lunch at Smashburgers (you both love the sweet potato smash fries sprayed with rosemary as well as your sandwiches) and are presently at Kroger’s on Tylersville picking up odds and ends. Again, this morning you didn’t feel well and became as Bob P. used to say, a slug. Before noon you forced yourself to do a half hour of exercises and felt better. Early afternoon your sugar was below 150, which was the mark Dr. B. okayed. Early after six this morning and before seven you spent time naturally ‘entranced’ and you fell into an hypnotic like environment where you were seated behind the steering wheel of a maroon 1948 two-door Ford sedan with a tan cloth interior (your parent’s first new car). You turned towards the back seat and ‘sensed’ a clothesbasket overfilled with letters of the alphabet. You were less than a year old and you heard a voice distinctly say, “My name is baby.” Also right outside the right back window you sensed Diplomat observing the inside of the car and taking notes, and she said, “This is where I begin.”

         1507 hours. Boy, I am glad you remembered that Amorella. I meant to write it down when I got up but the everyday world caught up with me and I forgot. I remember thinking that to make things fair I would become as one of the characters in my head so I could associate with them. I did have a ‘shock’ (lack of a better word) when I heard the voice because I immediately thought, ‘my name is baby but I am someone else too though I don’t know who that is yet so I will wait and see what comes of this situation, I’ll observe and see what happens.’

         Carol is taking the groceries in and getting her book for outside in the car reading time, the first in a few weeks. The temperature is about forty and it seems balmy. You have a sweatshirt on but no coat. You wonder about the above ‘h-dream’ experience because the experience was as being in a hypnotic trance as opposed to a regular or even a lucid dream. Let’s call these dream formats “h-dreams” for hypnotic-like dream, especially if Diplomat appears to be observing. – Amorella

         1541 hours. This is interesting. –

         You are over at Pine Hill Lakes Park just north of the dam and facing the winter scene of bare trees across the valley of one of the Muddy Creek branches. Carol is looking over The Postmistress and catching up.         

         1553 hours. What is interesting is that I was in the h-dream as was (I assume) Diplomat, but I have the present sense that I was in the dream twice, once as “Baby” and once as “Richard”. The family always said I was quiet and mostly observed what was going on rather than taking part. And, of course, not to belabor the point, but that I did not talk until I was three and my first words were a sentence, “I want a cookie.” No one in the family has ever disputed this. However, the h-dream is not accurate because I was born in 1942 and we did not buy the car until 1948 when I was six.

         You were the car in the sequence. – Amorella

         If so, who was making the observation?

         It appears that in your subjective reality, I was. – Amorella

         1601 hours. Were you?

         I observe your conscious and unconscious thoughts in order to create a story around them that is authentic as a story. – Amorella

         Then, I am always observed within.

         Not quite. Recognizing yourself as Baby and Nameless early on you are as two entities, one always being the observer. – Amorella

         But you are an active participant not an observer alone; you, as the creative creator so to speak, bring about the Merlyn books and blog. Could this have happened in real life?

         I’m not the one to ask, boy. – Amorella

         I’ll let Diplomat, if she was taking notes, set up her report of the h-dream. [I must admit this is very odd. I don’t remember having this sort of experience before.

         Something might come from it. This is an artistic-like subjective reality. Remember Diplomat got carried away after making her observation and began thinking about using images from the Internet to play with her observations and make it more real-like to the reader, i.e. dropping in an image of a 1948 Ford sedan for instance. – Amorella

         1614 hours. That’s true. She grew quite excited thinking of ways to spruce up her sense of ‘witness’ and how she might use this, but I dismissed her ideas almost immediately because I don’t think she can do that sort of thing and have it make sense (I mean it sounds like self-entertainment to me) [uh oh, this “self-entertainment” sounds ironic at the moment].

         You’ve set her free on her own blog. – Amorella

         Not to do whatever she wants; it has to relate to the Merlyn books . . . it has to be seen in context with the books.

         I agree. – Amorella

         Okay, Carol is taking a quick cat nap and I’m ready to stop. (1621)

         You are home and having been helping Carol make meatloaf, you cannot remember you helping Carol prepare any kind of food other than reheating in the twenty some years you have lived in this house. – Amorella

         1701 hours. It was rather fun but I don’t like to get my hands messy with squeezing meat and onions and eggs and ground bread crumbs out of a box. I did clean up the dishes though and ground the onions in a neat little mixer for such things. I think I did something else too but I don’t remember what it is. We use Grandma Cook and Grandma Schick’s private family recipe with secret ingredients added. Yum, yum good.

         1706 hours. I am thinking about having Ann’s husband read what I have written in the post today to see if it has any plausibility to it for the fiction.

         I thought having a (retired or not) psychologist read any of your notes was a freak-out for you. – Amorella

         I don’t much give a damn any more. I’m not crazy and am doing no harm here, just trying to create three good books for my grandsons to read later, and hopefully I have a few other readers along the way. Writing is a form of self-entertainment, what else can I say besides I need to have the works be plausible; that is, be plausible not sound plausible.

         Post. - Amorella

         You have set up a new working document for Diplomat. Now you must let her do the work. This is the reason you are drawing a blank on her thesis. – Amorella

         2109 hours. I would rather the post begin on 1 February than 31 January.

         That is not the problem. – Amorella

         2132 hours. This is what she has for tomorrow so far.

** **

The Slipper Project

1 February 2014

Diplomat Burroughs’ Research Blog:

The Thesis: “A More Complete Study on the Authorship of the self-published novels: Braided Dreams, Running Through and Merlyn’s Mind and their finalized reconstruction within Great Merlyn’s Ghost, Volumes One, Two and Three in twelve (approximately) 750 word selections to be published in Great Merlyn’s Ghost, Volume Three.

** **

         The authorship question sounds familiar. – Amorella.

         This is a bit too much. The only ‘authorship question’ of any note is on the true author of Shakespeare’s Works. This is hardly appropriate here unless she is being a bit satirical.

         Humor doesn’t hurt. Post. – Amorella

Notes - a fun diversion / Brothers 13 (final) / Grandma 13 (final)

         Late afternoon. The morning was spent at a doctor’s appointment for Carol and making appointments for the hand surgeon for you, loading the new printer software on your MacAir, ran errands, had a late lunch at the Cracker Barrel and dessert at Graeter’s.

         1654 hours. The last two days have moved right on by. Diplomat’s completed her text biography and she needs a thesis, an objective to prove. I want this to be a well-done expository work even if it is fiction.

         She’s going to write it as non-fiction. – Amorella

         Whatever. I’ll work on Brothers 13. I have to finish up my update on phone numbers too. Last night I spent time looking over new televisions as that is the focus of the new Consumer Reports. This is supposed to be the best time of the year to buy them; our Sony was bought when I retired in the summer of 2003. Since the 2003 Bose (TV, radio and DVD) system wore out and is long out of date there is now way we can attach a Blue Ray DVD or access the Internet. We packed up our DVD’s and put them in the basement, at least those that Kim and Paul did not take. We haven’t watched any of them for a long time anyway. The Sony is working well; it does have HD and a good sound system. In fact, after going through the TV’s on sale and if and when we do buy one I’m still in favor of a first tier Sony though it won’t be a huge screen. The one we have now is 34’’ and it is one of the best of that time and the last with the cathode tube HD televisions. The TV room has six large windows (with shades) so it will have to be a screen for that, probably a 46” screen rather than 51” or 55”. The one I like the best, at present, is the Sony 47” LED – 120 Hz – smart – 3-D model KDL47W802a. Presently I can save about four hundred dollars but who knows, maybe next year. We both have arthritis and if we have another set that last at least ten years there will be a lot less driving and a lot more in house entertainment in that time.

         You put a lot of enthusiasm in your research projects, boy. – Amorella

         I have always enjoyed research. The best part of graduate school was writing, completing and passing the thesis program. If I had worked on a doctorate to that point that would have been the best part, at least I assume so.

         Post as an example of an honest fun diversion – research. - Amorella

         2158 hours. I had an hour and a half nap. We watched the news ate left over turkey soup for supper, and watched last Sunday’s “This Old House” from the Kentucky PBS network. The Brothers 13 is completed though presently I am unsure why this particular segment is important to the whole.

         You need to remember to take a nap during the day. Also, you have been up since before seven and did your exercises before breakfast not that it made much difference in your sugar levels. – Amorella

         It was 155. I had no food after breakfast and we had errands I took sugar again about one and it was 145. I think I am going to need to change the small medication I do take. I’ll see Dr. B later this month.

         Add and post. – Amorella

***

(final) The Brothers 13 ©2014, rho GMG.One

            While sitting on the couch Robert glanced at his brother’s bare feet. “You need to trim those nails.”

            Richard peeped down, “They look fine to me. Give them another couple of weeks. Why do you wear socks?”

            “I feel better in socks.”

            “From feet to the grave, what have you found in your genealogy files?”

            Robert picked up the paper. “This old letter from Oxford Ancestors, it says, ‘ . . .we cannot identify your Y-chromosome as being of Norse Viking by the criteria outlined above. It is much more likely that your Y-chromosome has been inherited from a paternal ancestor who belonged to one of the ancient Celtic tribes that lived in Britain and Ireland before the Vikings arrived at the end of the eighth century AD.’”

            “Grandpa was sure we had Viking blood in us. He always said we were related to Ragnar the Dane.”

            Robert snickered, “He told me we were related to Abu Hubba, the Viking.”

            Richard pulled another file. “Well, then there is this old family name Balduh on Grandpa’s great grandmother’s side. It sure looks Scandinavian to me. The h was probably a hard c or a k. Balduk sure looks Germanic. Something right out of the ancient Norse sagas or Beowulf.”

            Robert, whose interest was quickly waning, added, “Balduk could have been Baldacci then it would appear Italian.” I would rather dissect a corpse than a language, thought Robert, and continued, “Well, it was the great grandmother’s side not the great grandfather’s. The male line has always been the only one legitimate on the British Isles, right?”

“Of course,” cracked Richard. Both laughed sardonically. “I'm hungry. Do you want some ice cream?”

“What do you have, Robbie?”

“Not here. Let’s go to the DQ or Graeter’s.”

“How about stopping at the college bookstore first?”

“That’s fine,” said Richard. “What are you looking for?”

My poem,” replied Robert in a deadpan manner.

“I need to get this Merlyn series done,” stated Richard in irritation.

“Three books. It’ll be years until you redo that trilogy.”

            Richard scratched his nose and looked for his shoes. “You work a long time, then you retire. I like having a project or two. That is what is good about genealogy. I can dabble in Grandpa’s notes one day then work on my book the next.”

            “You just like writing about our hometown,” said Robert.

            “It is just like everyone else’s hometown. Familiar landmarks, different street and place names. People have their uptown or downtown businesses that last a long time, doctors, dentists and the like. Groceries or food markets that people are familiar special areas occupying peoples’ lives. One town is as good as any another for a setting.” Richard paused, “Where are we going again?”

            “Bookstore, then the DQ I guess, if you still want to go.”

            Richard replied quickly, “I’ll drive.”

            “In high school we used to borrow Grandpa’s VW a lot.” Robert laughed, “it had those pop open back windows and a nearly non-existent heater.”

            Later the two sat, one with a small chocolate cone and the other with small chocolate malt. Both faced north looking at the old Riverton High School they attended in the late nineteen fifties. “There’s our sophomore homeroom,” pointed Richard.

            “Yeah, I never got in trouble in that room, but you did,” commented Robert.

            “True. I got three whacks in the principal’s office for talking. That wouldn’t happen today.”

            “We thought we were going to be nuked by the Russians. It hasn’t come to it, but eventually we will be nuked by one set of terrorists or another.”

            “Nuked or plagued,” added Richard.

            “Yep. Nuked or plagued. That’s the way it will be.”

            Richard smiled, “Not many places to hide either.”

            “New Zealand would be a good spot.”

            "Yeah," said Richard without much enthusiasm as his mind had begun running over the characters and plot of Nevil Shute's On the Beach. Shute created a novel out of Eliot's words in "The Hollow Men" -

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper.

            It was a dark, dark novel, reflected Richard matter-of-factly, still surprised that the world survived those Cold War times; and the 1959 film was just as dark. It had Gregory Peck, Ava Gardner, Fred Astaire and Anthony Perkins in the leads; directed by Stanley Kramer. The setting was 1964 and in the black and white film no one was going to survive the radiation, not in Australia, New Zealand, Argentina or South Africa. Not one human being survives. How did we ever make it this long without a nuclear war? I have no idea. Sometimes I think we are all dead and don’t know.

***

         2216 hours. I decided to read Grandma 13 and I like this story very much. In my mind I was there and watched it as Amorella set the letters in my fingertips. I find a joy between the lines. I made a change or two. This is a good story in my heart even if it isn’t written as well as it could be.

         This is an unexpected comment. Add and post. – Amorella

***

(final) Grandma's Story 13 ©2014 rho GMG.One

I have a little story for you, noted Grandma. This narrative takes place in a narrow area of India in the sixth century. Thar stands tall along the upper Krishna River in the Maharashtra state in the Western Ghats mountain range. The eight hundred mile river flows east to west across India to the Bay of Bengal. To the far north is the Indian desert of Sahara-like sand dunes. To the Krishna River’s far southwest coast of India in the present day Kerala state are coastal semi-evergreen forests. This limited area of the subcontinent has the Indian Ocean to its west and the high Western Ghats Mountain to its east.

Thin Thar and his beautiful full-bodied, long black haired partner, Malabar sit eating some fruit on a large ash gray boulder on the south shoreline of the Krishna. Behind them about three hundred feet is an ancient temple dedicated to Lord Shiva. The temple has long been destroyed but it has a near twin still standing and in use in the state of Bihar, the Mundeshwari Devi Temple. Both towered temples were built for the worship of Lord Shiva in the early first century. A younger couple, Goa and Comorin, come out of the entrance to the small temple and see the backs of the older couple lounging on the rock.

An ever so slight wind, a seeming inconsequential breeze with a flit of bliss, accompanies Goa and Comorin on their now judicious walk to see their friends and to innocently ask how it is that Thar and Malabar long ago had come to be married and to live in such peace with one another.

            Thar rose and stood loincloth naked while Malabar sat. In solemn tone he declared as he had many times in the years before, "There will be great floods from these mountains to our north."

            With her feet dangling in the cool water and turning her head slightly to her left and up to see her husband's eyes looking down, Malabar grumbled, “There are always floods, Thar," then with a twinkle in her eye, added, "And droughts too; nevertheless, we cannot wade across the Krishna without getting our feet wet."

            Thar turned his head having observed Goa and Comorin within a few feet of the rock.

            "Hello," said Comorin energetically, "We thought we saw you from the Temple." She paused as Malabar turned their way. "What's wrong," she blurted, "Thar stands while you sit?"

            Malabar did not bother to stand. It was easier to look up at the three of them. "Thar is the problem," she stated matter-of-factly, "He wants to wade across the great Krishna without getting his feet wet."

            "You need a blessing from Lord Shiva," declared Goa earnestly, "to wade the Krishna without getting wet feet."

            Attaching to the immediate humor of the moment, and to the quick twinkling exchange between husband and wife, Thar replied, "What blessing would that be, my young friend Goa, so that I may wade and not have to take a boat across to keep dry?"

            Perplexed by the sudden question Goa ran his mind through the moments of meditation they had just spent in the Temple. Goa lowered his eyes and confessing, "Only as a soul can you be liberated from the physical, Thar; thus being alive you will have to take a boat across the river."

            Malabar smiled warmly at her two young friends, "That is just what I told him, Goa. Thank you for clarifying this for me." She touched her husband left leg in friendly jest and continued, "See, Thar," she looked knowingly as any woman in her position would, "What would I do if you waded across and I was left here alone?"

            Thar stood tall and scratched his head, he looked seriously at their two young friends and then down at his wife, "Come, Malabar" he said gently, "please stand so we four might stand together as two couples." He paused as he helped her up. The four witnessed a sudden and unannounced meeting of common human spirit.

            Thar immediately realized the four were standing together in the cardinal directions unaware. "We will soon be the North and South winds and in time you two will be the East and West. Lord Shiva speaks in such a heartfelt meeting as ours and as such the four of us beyond ashes and smoke will dance over the Earth and not a one of us will retire with either wet feet or dry soles."

            Old Grandma Earth smiled; nodded her head and quipped, "Not everything in the world is as loose or as tight as it seems." She continued in a calm,

"Transcend, transcend, a beginning, a middle and an end

While talking to a thousand, to a couple, or to a single friend."

***

Notes - overriding awkwardness / (final) Dead 13

         Early dusk. Your HL-2280DW Brother Laser Printer just arrived and you placed the sealed box on the coffee table. Spooky investigated by sniffing around the box from right to left discovered nothing of importance and headed to the window in search of birds searching the feeder near the miniature crab apple by the front porch.

         Not feeling well this morning you went back to bed after breakfast – Jadah followed you and slept on your stomach for about an hour. You did forty minutes of exercises and felt better. The big errand of the day was heading south to Tri-County Shopping Center and the Time-Warner Cable office to exchange your remote. Once home you found it not so easy to program; a telephone call didn’t help so TW is sending someone out at eight tomorrow morning. As the Presidential Address is on tonight you have no regular programs to copy anyway. You can still partially use the much older remote but the new remote will not change channels. The big treat was later when you and Carol headed to Graeter’s for her free birthday two-scoop turtle sundae, which you shared, then a stop at Lowes for bird food. You have begun editing Dead Thirteen and Diplomat has to edit Pouch Text Eleven from Merlyn’s Mind for tomorrow.

         1748 hours. Diplomat is not getting many readers but a handful is more than I expected. The first day her blog had 71 hits but once people saw what it was about it dropped down to an average of one or two hits a day with some days getting zero. I remember starting the Encounters blog and I mentioned it on Facebook. I have 16 people who signed up for the blog – a couple of family members and a few kind former students. This is what I am comfortable with. Once one of the postings got a big hit – about 200 or so hits. I went into a panic because numbers is not what the blog is about. Anyway, it quickly fell to three or four hits a day on average and that is a comfort level for me. Amorella says it is my obligation to make my writing sharable. I feel freer when the writing is shared, which I imagine is the reason for the sharing in the first place.

         You are trying to think of a way to express what ‘freedom of mind’ is in the context above. What you want to say is that to you ‘freedom of mind’ is worth much more than money and power can pay. – Amorella

         Well said. I never can communicate to any degree of real personal satisfaction. I have an overriding awkwardness with words – their meanings and intensities.

         Post, boy. Carol is working with supper. Later, dude. - Amorella

        2002 hours. I have edited Dead 13 slightly. All the way through the reading I am thinking of Hal Holbrook as the Stage Manager rather than Merlyn. That is, the tone and cadence of Merlyn’s script sounds like Holbrook’s State Manager in “Our Town”. I can’t imagine a stage production of these books or even a film – too complicated. It could never be pulled off.

         Why would anyone do anything with it but read? – Amorella

         I agree. I had a couple of readers for the first trilogy; perhaps I can find a couple more for this one. I am trying to imagine which of my two grandchildren (if either) will be curious enough to open the books one day. Then of course to read it would be another chore. Anyway, here is Dead 13 if you okay it Amorella.

         I do. I understand your sense of stage manager. In a way the whole books take on the flavor of Our Town which, like it or not, has been your bent all along. Add and post. – Amorella

***

(final) The Dead 13 ©2014, rho GMG.One

            It is a pleasure to awaken in a bed that is a memory of my adolescent days in life. A few blankets across a few wooden planks attached to four legs created from tree trunks. My pillow is a forearm in width and two hands high. The replica of Henry David Thoreau’s cabin at Walden's Pond is about the same size. The exterior dimensions of Thoreau's cabin are ten by fifteen feet. Mine is about the same but without the physical reality. The Living need to know a few of the rules we Dead have; particularly if my memory serves me well enough to return again to Avalon or Elysium.

            We Dead have particular rules we attempt to follow for a general social order to occur. For instance if one is walking it is helpful to walk on a path that delivers you from point A to point B. We are more ridged than you the Living might think. We must conform to the way things are. First, we have to realize who we are, who we really are. These are self-evident truths the Living may deny for a lifetime. Like Alice, you have to pass through the Looking Glass to enter our domain.

            We Dead survive for what Ends? We, like the Living, do not know. We attempt to be social while we wait. We have the right to mature while we wait.

            We Dead have a set of ethics focusing basically on the four cardinal virtues: temperance, courage, justice and prudence. These four are woven within the circulation of heartansoulanmind as blood was circulated throughout the body in life. The more giving the spirit is in these four virtues the freer one is, that is, the more transparent the spirit is, the more the spirit is as the soul from which it came, unseen but known and understood within one's humanity.

            We Dead wait, enjoying the learning, enjoying the company of others who always remind us of who we are as we grow or do not grow – to live, as it were, trafficking The Golden Rule within our own stuffing.

            We Dead who rose from clay; we are Dead and still alive and our judgments stay our own.

            "Says you," interrupted Vivian.

            Merlyn smiled as if he were let in on a joke, "How long have you been here, my love?"

            "As long as necessary. Where were you going with your monologue?"

            "I forget. I lost my train of thought."

            "You were thinking on how much energy it took to move from Avalon to Elysium. It nearly wore you out."

            "It wore me down to nothing and that was before I left Avalon."

            "I watched you leave."

            "I did not know that."

            "Your soul took you."

            "How do you know it was not my heart?"

            "Only your soul could move like that."

            "What did you see? A soul is what it is, a shroud, a covering protecting heartanmind."

            "That is what we are told but I saw something different,” said Vivian. “You were evaporating quickly and took the form a gray pinecone and then shrank to a brown walnut floating at navel height. I reached out and touched the walnut, which was becoming gray again; it was leathery like touching the back of an African elephant. I knew then that it was your soul because that is how I imagine your soul to be."

            Merlyn laughed aloud, "Leathery."

            "Do you remember me touching you?"

            "You are within me already. Touching would assume you were not within," replied Merlyn earnestly.

            "I felt your leathery passion, Merlyn. I felt your soul's fuel if not your soul itself."

            "What a strange thing to say, Vivian, that my passion is leathery."

            "Like an elephant's, thick, like the skin on an elephant's back," reiterated Vivian. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Bye, Merlyn."

            Merlyn chuckled. "Things are like this here among the Dead. Heartsansoulsanminds come and go like thoughts of friends among the Living. Here thoughts come across more real and are acted out between two or among three or more; up to a group of a dozen or so friends. You Living know how that is, people show up in a flash, you have a good time, and then they say their good-byes and are gone. Not much different here, except I heard Vivian's voice as if she were standing right here. And, I felt her arm on my back and she gave me a kiss on the cheek. I felt those lips. I will never forget           Vivian's lips and her passion. Never. No leather in her passion, I'll tell you.

   ***

Notes - busy day with a video dessert

         Very late morning. You had errands to run this morning, breakfast at First Watch on Montgomery Road and home. With the sloppy roads you have been driving the Honda but today for the first time in about a week you are back to the Toyota. Carol is going to look for new glasses and you have everything together as far as the first twelve chapters of GMG.One are concerned. - Amorella

         1133 hours. You stopped but I have nothing to say. Well, it is a pretty day with the clear blue winter sky and it is cold with the temperature getting down to ten below tonight, but that’s it. Nothing is in here, Amorella.

         Later, my friend. – Amorella

         You have had an afternoon of telephone calls concerning electronic medical and pharmaceutical updating relating to 2014 Aetna-Medicare coverage. Thankfully this is now completed for the both of you.

         1630 hours. I am not complaining. These are aspects of Medicare that need to be updated periodically. In the long run the health care system will be more efficient. You can see this in all of our doctors’ offices. I can go to one computer source for all three of my doctors. Each can look at my test results and take action where each feels I need it. Tests, medicines, prescriptions, medical history is paperless and quickly transferable in a medical emergency. Much more of the work can work this way. It has or should have nothing to do with politics or religion as far as I am concerned. Privacy from others is fine but not for those within the medical professions.

         People are concerned for their privacy because of the fear someone will use medical information against them. “We have met the enemy and it is us,” to paraphrase “Pogo”, the ancient comic strip. I can remember reading the actual strip.

         2148 hours. What a delightful evening. Leftovers followed by BBC’s the Abbey and Holmes. I am done for the evening. We drove through the Abbey’s wonderful small town settings and walked and drove on the London streets of the modern Holmes and Watson.

         Post. - Amorella

Notes - an off-thinking day / stats for 10,11,12

         1550 hours. I have been going over chapters 10, 11 and 12. I am still correcting layout problems plus I did not come up with a chapter theme for 12. Providence comes to mind but nothing else except situational but it doesn’t fit. It doesn’t add a compound to the mix.

         This is not chemistry, boy, nor are we old Presbyterian here. Look up mix and see what’s what. – Amorella

         1559 hours. Mingling or consorting come to mind but I am not sure why other than they are simple words.

         Let’s go with consorting because of what comes to mind. – Amorella

         It is more suggestive.

         2136 hours. I have the statistics for the chapters:

Ch. 10 - Purpose

Words.  3222                Words per Sentence 10.3

Sentences 289

Sentences/Paragraph 4.0

Passive Sentences 1.0 percent

Flesh Reading Ease 100

Flesh-Kincaid Grade Level 0.1

Ch. 11 - Trust

Words.   3189         Words per Sentence 12.2

Sentences 257

Sentences/Paragraph 125

Passive Sentences 4 percent

Flesh Reading Ease 100

Flesh-Kincaid Grade Level 0.8

Ch. 12 - Consorting

Words.  3206          Words per Sentence 14.4

Sentences 221

Sentences/Paragraph 3.2

Passive Sentences 3 percent

Flesh Reading Ease 100

Flesh-Kincaid Grade Level 1.6

         These figures appear to be reasonable but any may have slight error due to my transference of numbers from hand back to computer. I do not have the listings in the same order they show up on the Word program. I still do not have the final layout corrected so that it might be added into Page. That will have to wait until tomorrow.

         This was day two of no driving. You did your exercises as you have done for the last few days. You and Carol caught up on a few programs and are copying a few tonight while Carol is watching the Grammy presentations. Post. – Amorella

         2210 hours. I got off base. I am wondering since Ancestry Dot Com presently has a 99 dollar DNA test if I should get a new one. The one from Oxford is 13 years old. I’m sure the tests today are more specific.

         Do you think your DNA has changed significantly in thirteen years? – Amorella

         No.

         Post. - Amorella