"Call on God but row away from the rocks." - Indian Proverb

Some days it doesn't pay to chew through the straps.

When I was in elementary school some professional group came every December and performed the one-act opera Amal and the Night Visitors. It was wonderful. The music, costumes, and staging were completely different than anything I'd ever seen and captivating. I don't know why it hasn't become a performance staple during the Christmas season, especially since it was originally commissioned by NBC for broadcast on TV. The story is loosely based on the visit of the magi and revolves around a crippled boy who is miraculously healed.

I learned the other day that the Arabic word amal means hope. Sixty years after seeing the opera at Daniel Webster Elementary the light went on and I understood why the opera and the lead character were given that name.

I'm leaving home early tomorrow with the trailer to pick up a used engine just like Sally's. Spencer said he'd pull it out of a Mustang he has in storage at his shop and sell it to me for $300. He said it's a good engine and I believe him, in part because his shop has a great reputation in Eugene. I'll take the engine to Ron who will pull Sally's (an oil leak that would be expensive to fix) and put in this one. While he's at it he'll fix the "drain back" problem in the transmission.
While Ron is doing that I'll go rob a bank and photocopy some $100 bills on the church's high-end copier.

I've been told that my days of distance running are over thanks to back and hip issues. I think I'll try to replace distance running with distance cycling but that will have to wait until spring when I can get a hybrid bike and the Oregon winter rains have abated. (I've also been told I shouldn't plan on riding my road bike because of a whole separate health issue.) (Getting old sucks.)
I miss distance running. I find it an exercise in mental health when I'm stressed. There comes a point when my brain disengages from the issues and gets wholly involved in the run. Sure, it's still work but that work is what pushes out the stress. That disturbing email disappears when it takes all my focus to keep running through the fatigue.

That's one of the things I liked about riding my motorcycle(s). Especially when out doing the twisties - riding that's technically challenging - every part of me is fully engaged in the riding. My mind and my body have to be singularly focused on working the bike through the curves. No room for anything else.

They don't clap on anything at UFC. I'm not sure why. The music isn't generally up-tempo but the sometimes sing songs that have enough pace to warrant clapping, it just never happens. Don't know why. It's not like the church is too conservative.