I don’t care. I used to think that was a good thing. Now, I’m not so sure.
What is your favorite color? Purple? Black? Pink? My lovely wife’s favorite color is blue. Specifically, cobalt blue. That’s a very pretty color.
I don’t have a favorite color. If someone came up to me tomorrow and offered me a new car. I honestly wouldn’t care what color it was. Truly. It could be pink, purple, polka-dotted with little Hello Kitty stickers. I just can’t muster up the care to pick a color. The subject came up during a therapy session with a therapist and my lovely wife.
But, you have a favorite color.
What do you mean? No I don’t.
Well, you used to.
Really? I . . .I don’t remember. Wait, was it some kind of green?
Yes. I made that robe out of green cloth because you liked green. That blanket that I put the “R” on, the R is in green.
Because that was my favorite color?
Yes. That was your favorite color.
Obviously, I used to care. I don’t anymore. Should I? Is it a sign of strength or weakness that I don’t care? I used to think it was a sign of strength, of maturity. After all, there’s no real value in having a favorite color, right? In fact, not having a color means I don’t have to be disappointed if I don’t get my favorite color.
I realized there are numerous things I don’t care about. Lots of things. In fact, there are very few things I do care about. Abraham Maslow was an American psychologist and philosopher. He came up with something called “Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.”
Maslow said that our most basic needs are physical: food, water, warmth, shelter. I care about those things. I care about my family. I care about keeping them fed, clothed, sheltered and safe. Once we get past that, my level of caring starts to drop off percipitously.
Sports? Sure, I like sports. I’m a lifelong Seattle Mariners fan. My Dad took me to games when I was a kid. I’ve watched them all over the country. I pay way too much to watch them on the internet.
They lose. . .a lot. In fact, they are the only MLB team that has never been to the World Series. They’ve won the league pennant only three times in 35 years.
Do I care if they win or lose?
Honestly?
I don’t. Sure, I hope they win. But, whether they win or lose doesn’t really mean a lot.
I like my job. Well, I liked it before I got laid off. I’ll go get another job. And I imagine I will like it just as well. Which means, I’m not sure how much I cared. If I could move on so quickly could I have cared?
While I don’t care, I was more worried about why I don’t care. And when did I stop caring? There was a time in my life when Maslow’s hierarchy was more than just an academic exercise. I found myself out of work, $80,000 in debt, literally living in my brother-in-law’s barn. The state and the church were feeding my children. I was scrambling to meet the very basic needs of me and my family.
I think this might have been the time that I quit caring about many things. When you are worried about your next meal, or your kids’ next meal, the color of your car really doesn’t matter. If someone offers you a job, you don’t care what the job is. You care about what the money will do for your family, not what your responsibilities will be.
So, not caring might be (probably is) a trauma response. Do I need to deal with that? Do I need to “fix” it?
I don’t know. And at this point?
I don’t really care.
Stay safe
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
Follow him on
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2021 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
The smoke from the three recently extinguished candles traced lazy patterns in the middle of the lodge room. Circling slowly up until the smoke lost itself.
Tonight I participated in a ritual (yes, an actual ritual.) It’s a ritual that has been performed virtually unchanged for decades, centuries even. It’s a ritual that George Washington once participated. As did Joseph Smith (founder of the Mormon Church), as well as Franklin Roosevelt, Gerald Ford, John Wayne, Neil Armstrong. In total 14 US presidents have participated in this ritual. Kings from dozens of countries, including Kings George IV, Edward VII, Edward VIII, and James VI of Great Britain. Prime ministers including Winston Churchill.
What’s amazing is that also regular everyday men, who were not famous outside of their own family have participated in this ritual. In fact, tonight two men that you have likely never heard of went through this same ritual that has been experienced by the great and famous.
I watched two men, brothers now that they’ve been initiated, go through the ritual of joining the ranks of Freemasonry. They were initiated Entered Apprentices. It’s the first of the three offices in Masonry. The others being Fellowcraft and finally Master Mason.
I’ve been a mason for many years. I joined because my uncle was a mason and my grandfather had been a mason. I have remained a mason because I see it as a worthy organization that helps make good men better; better husbands, better fathers and better brothers.
Our lodge, Utah Story Lodge #4 has seen remarkable growth in the years I’ve been a member. The men we welcomed to the fraternity tonight are much younger than I am. In fact, everyone in the lodge is younger than I am. And I don’t consider myself old.
Why are men attracted to Masonry, an ancient fraternity that uses rituals and candles? I think they, we, are searching for some semblance of meaning and purpose in an increasingly chaotic and disorganized world. While Freemasonry has “secrets,” the biggest secret benefit of all is the fellowship with other men from our community. Masonry prides itself on the fact that in lodge all men are equal without any regard for wealth or status.
Masonry also requires an oath from those wishing to join its ranks. An oath to be loyal to the lodge and to your brother masons. An oath to look after the widows and the fatherless. An oath, in other words, to be a good man and attempt to be better.
Not a lot of things in today’s world require an actual oath: getting married, testifying in court, joining the military, being elected to Congress. But for most folks, we don’t have to make (or keep) oaths.
Masonry isn’t for every man. And it’s not for any women. They are barred from the fraternity. But, for men looking for a purpose bigger than themselves, they can find that purpose in Masonry.
Welcome to our new brothers.
Stay safe
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2021 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
Ten.
I have ten grandchildren. Someone pointed out a while ago that my signature block at the end of each post is very poorly written for a writer.
. . .He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren. . .
I was never a fan of the Oxford comma. In this sentence I’ve not used it deliberately. If you are unfamiliar with the Oxford comma controversy, I don’t blame you. It’s one of those arguments that the people involved are passionate about and people not involved don’t understand what the big deal is.
The Oxford comma is that second comma just before the word “and” when you are listing three items.
We bought apples, oranges, and grapes.
The comma after “oranges” is an Oxford comma. I could write that sentence in the following way without the Oxford comma.
We bought apples, oranges and grapes.
That’s it. That’s the difference between an Oxford comma and not using an Oxford comma. Who cares, right? Well, Khrushchev and Kennedy care. One of the most famous examples in favor of the Oxford comma is the following sentence.
We invited the strippers, Khrushchev, and Kennedy.
We invited the strippers, Khrushchev and Kennedy.
The first sentence describes a very awkward diplomatic conference. The second sentence describes the former leaders of the world’s taking up a new profession. A comma makes the difference between an international scandal and. . .well, two of the ugliest exotic dancers ever.
I don’t have a really good reason for not using the Oxford comma. I tend to think of it as an e.e. cummings, “don’t capitalize your name” or a Hemingway, “Never use a word that will force readers to the dictionary” thing. Anyway, I’m firmly in the camp of “No Oxford comma.”
And that brings me back to my signature block. The lack of the Oxford comma, like the unfortunate example with a former president and chairman, introduces some ambiguity. Reading through it, do I have 13 children and an unnumbered amount of grandchildren? Or do I have a total of 13 children and grandchildren combined?
I have ten grandchildren. I have 13 children. Why the ambiguity? Why not reword the sentence to make it clearer?
You are allowed to break the rules if you first understand the rules.
Like everything, there are rules in writing. And one of the first rules is to be clear. If a reader doesn’t understand a passage, it’s the author’s fault, not the reader. I know that. I’ve taught that to people.
And I intentionally broke that rule. I broke it because my kids and grandkids have their own stories to tell. I try to keep them out of my stories as much as possible.
But, today I just wanted to brag on my grandkids a little: all ten of them. There are four boys and six girls. The oldest is seven. The youngest is just starting to crawl. They are white, black and Latino.
Was that last sentence somewhat ambiguous?
Wonder how that happened?
Stay safe
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
Follow him on
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LinkedIn (www.LinkedIn.com/in/rbliss)
or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2021 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
Of all the holidays, Father’s Day is the one I’m least comfortable with.
The three most dangerous days in a married man’s life: His anniversary, his wife’s birthday and Valentines Day. He cannot exceed expectations. His only options are meet or fail to meet expectations.
– Some random guy on the internet
The three most dangerous holidays make me nervous, of course. I think in my years of marriage I managed to exceed expectations just once. But, that doesn’t mean I don’t continue to try on those days.
But, Fathers Day actually makes me slightly uncomfortable. I have a great relationship with my kids. And this year, like most years, they spoiled me on Fathers Day. I had family, kids and grandkids around all weekend. Kids who weren’t close called or sent text messages. My missionary son in Indianapolis did a video call. It was wonderful.
But, I was really happy when it was over.
Growing up Fathers Day was hard. Part of the reason was just the simple fact that I had multiple father-figures in my life. My parents divorced when I was very young. I maintained a relationship with my birth father until I was 16. During that time, my mother remarried several times.
When I was eleven my mother married the person I consider my father, Lloyd Bliss. He adopted me when I was 16.
Do you know what happens when you have that kind of chaotic childhood? You end up with conflicted views about father-figures. Added on top of that, my father, Lloyd, was not a man comfortable with celebrations or any kind of displays of affection. He did not like Fathers Day.
So, my memories of Fathers Day are cloudy at best. My current Fathers Day celebrations are good.
Like I said, it’s an awkward relationship. Hope yours was positive.
Stay safe
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2021 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
If you work in a Federal agency, or a bank, or a school, you might have discovered you had the day off on Friday. Courtesy of the new Federal holiday, Juneteenth.
If you aren’t from Texas, or black you might not have heard of Juneteenth. If you are familiar with Juneteenth, you probably have waited for this day for a long, long, LONG time.
Juneteenth commemorates the day, June 19, 1865 when slavery ended. Technically, slavery was abolished by the 13th Amendment. That wasn’t ratified by the states until December 6, 1865. We are all familiar with the Emancipation Proclamation. It was signed on January 1, 1863. But, that didn’t end slavery. President Lincoln didn’t have the authority to end slavery. As we know, it was codified into the Constitution. It required a Constitutional Amendment to eliminate it.
So, what did the Emancipation Proclamation do? It freed slaves who were in Confederate states that were under the control of the Union Army. If that sounds kind of convoluted, it is. But, it was also the only way Lincoln could really do anything. As the Commander in Chief of the armed forces, he was allowed to set military policy for areas currently in rebellion and ALSO under control of the Army.
So, if the Emancipation Proclamation didn’t end slavery, and the 13th Amendment wasn’t ratified until December of 1865, what was so special about June 19th, 1865?
That’s when the war ended.
You have probably heard about Lee’s surrender to General Grant at Appomattox court house. That meeting took place on April 9, 1865.
Here’s something they didn’t teach in school. The war didn’t end when Lee surrendered. Robert E. Lee was not the commander of the Confederate forces. He was the commander of the Army of Northern Virginia. Unlike the Union, where Lincoln appointed a single commanding general (First Major General Winfield Scott, then Major General George B. McClellan, then Major General Henry W. Halleck, and finally General of the Army Ulysses S Grant,) the South never consolidated their leadership. Instead, President Jefferson Davis maintained ultimate control. Each of the states in the South had their own Army. Remember that the South claimed it was in rebellion over states’ rights. Each state had it’s own army and Jefferson Davis, in the middle of leading a rebellion was justifiably concerned with a possible rebellion within his own rebellion.
So, when Lee surrendered, it took the largest Southern Army out of the war, but not everyone. Organized fighting would continue through the early summer of 1865. On June 19th of that year, Union General Gordon Granger arrived in Galveston, Texas. This was the final area under Confederate control that still had slaves. General Granger informed the slaves that they were now free. That day has been celebrated ever since.
And now, it will be celebrated all across the US asa. Federal Holiday. So, celebrate the end of slavery, the beginning of the fulfillment of the lofty promises made in the Declaration of Independence. Celebrate the point at which our nation quit allowing people to be enslaved. We paid for this holiday with a lot of blood, and generations of broken bodies and families.
It’s been a long time coming.
Happy Juneteenth.
Stay safe
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2021 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
Several years ago I was taking my daughter from Pleasant Grove, Utah to Sacramento, California. We got stranded on the side of the freeway. It was scary. It was also expensive. I wrote about it here: (What Would You Do? On A Long Lonely Highway, With A Dead Car, A Young Child And Night Falling) The fuel pump went out on my Suburban.
$250: Towing Fee
$1000: Fuel Pump repair
$300: Rental car
$1550: Total
Earlier this week I went to go on vacation for a few days and decided to take my 1996 Toyota Corolla. (How Is It A Vacation When There’s No Job To Come Back To?) I made it about 20 miles to my daughter’s house where I was dropping off some tie-downs. Then, my car died. It wasn’t a long lonely highway, and I was by myself. But, it was the same problem as my Suburban back in 2013.
What a difference eight years makes. I’ve become a car guy since then. In consultation with my neighbor we diagnosed the problem as a bad fuel pump. There was no tow fee, even though the car was 20 miles away. I decided I’d fix it in place. The pump itself? $112. My buddy drove me down to get the old pump out. And then my lovely wife drove me back to replace the new pump.
Actually, replacing a fuel pump is pretty straight forward. In some cases it can take as little as 15 minutes. The fuel tank is located under the back seat.
The seat pulls out easily. And under it you will find an access panel. (Sounds sort of USS Enterprise-ish.)
Four little screws and the access panel comes off to reveal the top of the fuel pump.
Eight more little screws. And a couple of connectors and you can remove the fuel pump assembly.
With the fuel pump removed, you can literally look down into the gas tank. You know, the stuff that goes into the engine and EXPLODES. that highly flammable gas is literally under the back seat.
Sure, the gas has to go somewhere, but next time they tell you the backseat is safest remember that you are literally sitting on top of the fuel tank.
Reinstalling the fuel pump is the process in reverse: put in the fuel pump, attack the hoses, screw in the 8 screws, replace the access panel, and then put the seat back.
This car has 288,000 miles. And by the looks of it, this is the original fuel pump and filter.
Sometimes the savings from doing your own repairs are a lot bigger than others.
Stay safe
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
Follow him on
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2021 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
I don’t know. But, somehow Tuesday afternoon saw me headed for Palisades State Park in Central Utah for a three day vacation. It wasn’t my vacation. It was supposed to a be a graduation trip with my sons. But, the vagrancies of teenagers meant that Thursday morning we had food packed for two. Accomodations for two. And only one person going.
I switched from the Suburban to my old Corolla. Palisades State Park is about 100 miles from my home in Pleasant Grove. I figured without my boys along, I wasn’t really interested in taking the kayaks. And I could save on gas with my smaller car.
I made it as far as Spanish Fork and my fuel pump went out. (More on that tomorrow.) My lovely wife drove down and dropped off the Suburban for me. My son gave her a ride back. There are two routes to take from Pleasant Grove to Palisades State Park. You can save about 15 minutes by taking the freeway. Or, you can enjoy an extra 15 minutes of travel on a scenic winding two lane highway down Spanish Fork Canyon.
Of course I took the scenic route. I was on vacation after all.
There’s plenty of road construction on Utah’s highways.
Palisades is a wonderful little park, centered around a resevoir. It wasn’t any cooler in the mountains. 96 when I left Spanish Fork, and 93 when I arrived at the park. But, a little shade and a breeze kept it tolerable.
I was eating for two, since the food was already packed.
There was plenty. And the crowd lurked hoping for some scraps, or maybe a distracted diner.
So, what to do with a spare day, no boat and no inclination to go swimming?
Writing . . .
And fishing. . .
The trip back today was just as enjoyable as the trip down. In fact, at one point, we experimented with driving on the left side of the road. (Courtesy of more road construction.)
The trip goes through the town of Manti with it’s signature temple.
The sunsets on the lake were a pleasant memory of my brief vacation.
Stay safe
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
Follow him on
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2021 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
His name is Toad. He even has ID with that name on it. I’m not even sure of his legal name. But, his real name is Toad.
I have several adopted children. Here’s a hint, when talking to an adopted kid, don’t ask them if they know their “real” parents. Most of them will either just roll their eyes, or if they feel in the mood to educate you will point out that “real” parents are the ones that help you with your homework. They sit up with you at night when you are sick. They help you learn to ride a bike and throw a football. Real parents are the ones who show up and parent. OF COURSE they know their real parents. And so do you.
I have the same feelings about names. What is my friend’s real name? It’s the name his friends use. It’s the name that is used when we tell stories about him. It’s the name that he chooses to use.
I have another friend who is a transgender man. His real name is the name his friends use. There may be another name on his birth certificate. Honestly, I have no idea. Other than President Obama’s, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone elses birth certificate, and I don’t care.
But, my I know friend’s real name. Happy Pride Month.
Stay safe
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2021 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
My signature block at the bottom of this post says that I have 13 children. That’s absolutely true. Not everyone is comfortable talking about large families. I’m sure there are some of you reading this post who just shake your head in disbelief.
I mean, Rodney seems like such a normal guy in other ways. What’s with the over-sized family?
When we were getting ready to add the 5th child to our family, a friend at work was shocked.
It takes a million dollars to raise a child!
No, it doesn’t take a million dollars to raise a child. But, his attitude isn’t surprising.
I have a friend who’s a professional comedian. He’s not afraid to talk about uncomfortable topics. He has a bit where he talks about the reality tv show, “19 and Counting.”
I mean, when you have enough for your own softball team. . .to play your OTHER softball team. . .and the last kid can be the umpire
My friend thinks large families are selfish. Mostly, because of the cost of raising those kids. He’s afraid that society, the rest of us, will have to make up the difference in the cost of raising kids.
He’s a good guy. And he was mostly going for the joke. But, he’s wrong about large families and especially planning for large families.
At one point my family had to go on food stamps. We were in Wisconsin. I’d made a bad business decision to go into partnership with a guy who turned out to be a crook. I found myself with 12 kids, a stay-at-home wife and stuck in a part of the country where I didn’t know anyone and my computer/IT skills were not particularly marketable.
The church helped, but it was a small branch. The state of Wisconsin decided that my family required $2100/month for food. We typically bought about $800/month in food. But, the extra helped us build up our food storage.
Now, you could look at this and think I was exactly what my friend was joking about. I had a family that I could no longer support and I was asking the rest of you to make up the difference.
How irresponsible!
Except, that children are not like other stuff that you buy. If you buy a house that is more than you can afford, you sell the house and get something smaller. Get into a car and find you can no longer afford the payments? Sell the car. Reduce expenses.
You can’t do that with kids.
And here’s the thing. The year we went on food stamps I made $23,000. Not nearly enough to support any sized family let alone one with 14 people.
But, the previous year I made over $100,000. In fact, when we were adding to our family I was making between $150,000 and $250,000 per year. That’s clearly enough to support that sized family.
The issue is that when you take on a child, you are committing to an 18 year lease with no opt-out clause. Do you know anyone who can project their earnings for the next 5 years let alone the next 18? I don’t.
After that year at $23K I went back to making $100,000 or more each year. Plenty to support my family.
So, when you see a large family, realize that while it might not work for you, it does work for a lot of people. And if they are in a down period, understand that they were probably not always in that spot, and they are likely to get back on their feet.
Stay safe
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
Follow him on
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2021 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
Sorry, no other pictures. I was busy on Saturday. I was kind of busy.
Do you know what a rotor is? Well, a car rotor looks like a large dinner plate with a hole in the middle. It sits behind your car’s wheel. Always on the front wheels and depending on the model of car, sometimes on all four wheels. The rotor is what lets your car stop. You might think it’s your brakes that stop you. But, the brake system is made up of lots of pieces.
When you go in to “get your brakes done” typically you have your brake pads replaced. The brake pads are made of ceramic or more often asbestos. (Yes, it’s as carcinogen. Don’t breath your brake dust.) The brake pads press up against the rotors from both sides. This is what slows your car down.
Even though your brake pads are what wear down quickest, sometimes your rotors need to be replaced as well. It’s possible to “turn” your rotors instead of replace them. Turning your rotors means you send them to a machine shop and they are carefully smoothed out.
However, rotors, despite being as heavy as they are, are not especially expensive. Well, I guess that depends.
My daughter’s car was making a ‘shimmering’ motion. She took it to a mechanic who diagnosed her problem as needing new rotors. And he quoted her $350 to replace them.
Replacing a rotor is pretty simple. Remove the tire. Remove the brake housing. Pull off the old rotor. Put on the new rotor. Replace the brake housing (Probably need to depress the cylinder to make the brake housing fit back over the new rotor.) Put the wheels back on.
From a mechanic stand point, it coudn’t get much simpler. Her rotors were about $75 each. So, for $150 she had everything she needed. . .except a mechanic to put them on.
Welcome to Daddy’s Garage.
I ordered her rotors and scheduled her car for Saturday afternoon. It was pretty simple, except for replacing one of the studs. When I went to take the lug nuts off, one of them came off very, very slowly. And if you’re using an impact wrench with 90 PSI behind it, anything moving slowly is not performing properly.
Replacing a stud takes another trip to the auto parts store. You just buy a new one. It looks like a bolt. I also got five new lug nuts for good measure. To remove the old lug, the stripped one, you just bang on it with a hammer. A really big hammer.
Once you’ve pounded the old stud out the back of the drum. You push the new one in from the back. You cannot fully push the stud back in place. You had to pound the old one out, you have to pound the new one. But, you can’t really pound from the back. So, to use the power of pneumatics. You put the stud in the wheel and then put a lug nut on the front. Then, you crank your impact wrench up to it’s highest setting and “screw” the lug nut down tighter and tighter until it literally pulls the stud into the wheel drum.
It sounds more complicated than it is. And the best part is you get to crank the impact wrench up and pound on the lug nut. I mean, what’s the fun of having that big of a wrench if you can’t use it?
I don’t charge my kids for doing work on their cars. So, my daughter managed to save a couple hundred dollars and she got to hang out at her parents house on a Saturday. I let her take the old part.
Tell your boyfriend, that you have a real stud. Oh, and that stud is stripped.
Not sure what she plans to do with the money she saved, but hopefully she remembers that Fathers Day is next Sunday.
(I also changed the oil on another daughter’s car. Fixed a visor in the first daughter’s car. Replaced the thermostat, door handle and hood supports. It was a busy day.)
Stay safe
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
Follow him on
Twitter (@rodneymbliss)
Facebook (www.facebook.com/rbliss)
LinkedIn (www.LinkedIn.com/in/rbliss)
or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2021 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved