Solitaire

Three percent . . . that is my winning percentage at Solitaire this go round.  I play Solitaire on my computer—a hundred games a round.  After 67 games of Solitaire my winning percentage is three percent.  This is about the worse percentage I have ever had in playing Solitaire on the computer. 

I think the computer switched dealers on me.  Typically I have an average winning percentage of around ten percent . . . but it has been many months since I have seen any number close to that.  For some reason the games have gotten more and more difficult to win.  I know that it is not my lousy play . . . it has to be the fact that the computer switched dealers. 

Solitaire is the game that I play when I have a few minutes to kill when I am on my computer at home.  I do not play it at work as it would be too distracting . . . not for me, but for my co-workers.  I do not think that they could handle the constant swearing that would be coming out of my office.  As a courtesy to my co-workers I have refrained from playing the game at work.  For the most part I think that they are thankful and continue to put up with my other idiosyncrasies with grace . . . besides they hear enough swearing out of my mouth about other things.  Work seems to bring out the best of my laments and whines!  We have a lot of cheese at work.

Still, three percent is terrible . . . it is embarrassing.  I never tell anyone about my playing of Solitaire because they might want to know what my winning percentage is.  Three percent!  The laughing would deflate my already deflated ego . . . three percent!  How can a computer whip my butt to the tune of 97 percent?  It must be that new dealer.  That is the only thing that it could be because I am a good Solitaire player—no one ever helps me.  I do this all on my own . . . isn’t that why they call it “solitaire”? 

The law of averages—which I seem to have broken quite often with my lousy playing, would figure out to be at least fifty percent.  In flipping a coin there is a fifty/fifty odds that it will either be heads or tails.  In Solitaire you either win or lose . . . doesn’t that make it a fifty/fifty proposition?  So one would think that after a hundred games I would have won at least half the time instead of 97 percent of the time!  Someone tried to explain it to me that because there are 52 cards in the deck used in Solitaire there are millions (if not billions) of combinations that could take place . . . thus making it difficult to win.  I think that is hogwash!  You either win or lose—that, my friends, makes it a fifty/fifty proposition.

I once told my son-in-law what my winning percentage was in Solitaire.  The news was received with this look of unbelief and bewilderment . . . like he didn’t believe me.  Like he couldn’t believe that it was so low . . . like his was somewhere around 60 or 70 percent.  He just smiled and walked away leaving me confused.  Confused that someone like me with twenty-two years of education, a college degree, and two master’s degree could only be winning three percent of the time.  I think he expected more from his father-in-law.  I don’t tell the son-in-law anything now . . . I have my dignity to protect!  As smart as I am, the problem couldn’t be me . . . it is that dealer hidden in my computer.

I checked all the settings on my computer . . . but they are the same.  I checked myself out . . . older, but better, but still the same.  There are no weeds growing in the ol’ rock garden yet.  I have had no blows to the head.  I can still see fairly well even with tri-focal lenses.  So the problem is not me.  It has to be some sort of conspiracy by Mircrosoft . . . some sort of counter in the computer that keeps track of one’s wins while playing Solitaire.  Get too many wins and it switches dealers on you.  That is the only explanation I can accept.

Now, humans created the computer and the game of Solitaire.  Humans created it all.  I have a firm belief that no machine should ever beat its creator.  After all, we humans created it all.  Yet, the stinking computer keeps whipping my butt at a rate of 97 percent.  I am getting tired of losing and losing big time.  The darn computer has even taken to teasing me . . . letting me get within a couple of cards of winning and then pulling the plug on me.  That really makes me mad . . . mad enough that I have threatened to pull its plug!  No machine should ever beat its creator!

I once won on the very first game of a new round.  I was tempted—really tempted, of quitting the game forever at that point.  At that point my winning percentage was a hundred percent . . . it was perfect.  I would have been at the top . . . king of Solitaire . . . victor and master of the game.  But I didn’t.  I got greedy and played on—99 more times to the tune of a three percent winning rate.  I figure at this rate I will eventually end up at 100 percent after 33 rounds . . . if I add up all the times I only win three percent of the time.  I can hear the computer snickering at me now . . . it must be the dealer hidden in the bowels of the computer . . . darn computer!  When will I ever learn? Quit while you’re ahead!

Driving in Montana Equals Misery

Well, it’s official.  Driving in Montana is a miserable experience . . . at least between the small rural town I live and the big city where I work most of the time.  According to the Bureau of Transportation Statistics, Montana ranks number six in the United States as one of the most miserable states for drivers.  You can read the article over at CarInsurance.com (http://www.carinsurance.com/Articles/automotive-misery-index.aspx?WT.qs_osrc=MSN).  I always knew there was something different about driving in Montana.

The statistic (actually Montana tied for fifth with Georgia) is based upon the number of miles driven, the cost of gasoline, and the cost of insurance.  Factoring in those three stats, Montana’s “driving misery” index number ended up being 9.7 percent.  I think that Montana got the lower rating over Georgia because we drive fewer miles than Georgians . . . I think it was because we did not have a president elected from our state.  It is only more miserable to drive in the states of Mississippi (#1), Oklahoma (#2 and a miserable place to live especially as a Big Red Fan), Louisiana (#3), West Virginia (#4 in misery and #1 in deer/car accidents), and Georgia.  I always thought it was miserable driving in our previous state—Nebraska, but with the move to Montana we dropped 26 places!

 There are parts of driving in Montana that are miserable.  Driving in the ice and snow in winter—miserable!  Following a recreational vehicle or tractor on a two lane road for miles and miles at nearly thirty miles under the speed limit with a full bladder—miserable!  Dodging deer, especially suicidal deer—miserable!  Playing hop-scotch with all the out-of-state tourists with their big campers—miserable.  Dancing in the lane with the car in front of you because the conversation on their cell phone is more interesting than the road ahead—miserable!  Driving way to the right side of the lane because everyone in Montana who went through driver’s education was taught to hug the center line—miserable.  Trying to read all of the vanity plates on the state cars (Subaru)—miserable!  Driving in Montana is a miserable experience and it is not because of the number of miles driven, cost of gas, or the cost of insurance . . .

In all honesty, I cannot vouch that driving in Montana is miserable.  True, it does hit the pocket book a little on the heavy side, but for the most part I enjoy driving in Montana.  Yeah, I have my gripes, but most of those have nothing to do with having to drive in Montana as much as it has to do with the fact that most of my driving is basically a commute from nowhere to somewhere.   Outside of my commute I enjoy driving in Montana.  Who wouldn’t appreciate the beauty of the area . . . mountains, sky that never ends, and lots of critters to admire.  The commute is a whole other story . . . it is miserable.

I am learning a lot about this state of Montana that I have come to claim as “home”.  We rank in the top ten in a lot of things, but none that most people would appreciate.  We are in the top ten for consumption of alcohol (especially micro-breweries), which ranks us in the top ten of D.U.I.s.  We rank in the top ten in motor vehicle deaths . . . thanks to alcohol and boredom from being stuck behind some slow moving tourist from some state like Georgia who has had a resident elected president.  I think we also rank among the top ten for more livestock than people, mispronouncing words that the rest of the nation pronounces correctly, and saying, “You bet!”  Now we can claim our glory in the top ten states of miserable drivers!

So, I am now among the miserable!  That makes me miserable thinking about it.  But that thinking has made me come to a conclusion on how folks could make me—and move the state of Montana—happier.  All those idiots out there driving could quit driving!  Think about it . . . fewer miles driven because there would be fewer drivers . . . less gas being bought because there would be fewer drivers driving . . . and, insurance prices would drop because there are less drivers causing accidents, hitting critters, and driving while drinking.  If those out there in Montana would just read this and heed the suggestion, my life would be better and Montana would drop out of the top ten.  It is a pipe dream, I know . . . because the other thing that Montana ranks in the top ten in is the stubborn independence of doing things the way people want to do them no matter what anyone else thinks!

Oh well, I will keep on driving in misery.  My joy comes in learning sign language while driving, developing lightening fast reflexes dodging critters and drunk drivers, and creeping along behind tractors and tourists gawking at the sugar beets.  So far I have survived . . . knock on wood!

Upon the Waters

“Cast your bread upon the waters,

for after many days you will find it again.”

(Ecclesiastes 11:1)

Somehow I lost this summer . . . and I am not really sure where I lost it.  It was the summer that wasn’t.  The first two summers that we moved to Montana was filled with lots of outdoor activities . . . hiking, critter creeping, visiting Yellowstone, cruising the Beartooth Pass, and generally enjoying the great outdoors.  This summer . . . well, not so much—one measly hike!  Oh, I could blame it out the unseasonably hot summer we had here in Montana—about fifteen degrees above normal most days, but I don’t really think that it had much to do with the weather.  If anything, the weather was just an excuse. 

Nope, it was just a lost summer and I have been contemplating this feeling for a couple of weeks now.  My lost summer has nothing to do with the weather . . . it had more to do with “casting my bread upon the waters.”  Ecclesiastes 11:1 is one of my favorite Bible verses.  The imagery of casting one’s bread upon the waters is a powerful metaphor as it speaks towards what I now realize I have been feeling for a couple of months—primarily the months of summer.

The story of the writer of Ecclesiastes is a powerful story of navigating life . . . of attempting to discover what it is that gives one happiness and purpose in life.  I like to tell people that it is about a guy going through a mid-life crisis.  Though technically I am in mid-life, my children tell me I am on the downhill slide of life, I am not going through a mid-life crisis.  But that is what is happening to the writer in Ecclesiastes, whose motto seems to be: “Eat, drink, and be happy!”  I can vouch on that part of the story for myself . . . I have eaten, drank, and been happy.  Nothing gets between me and the table.  No, there is no mid-life crisis, it is more of a recognizing of the changes in life.  At one point the writer of Ecclesiastes throws his bread upon the water . . . and waits . . . waits to see what returns.  He places it in the hands of God.

Not realizing it, that is what I did this summer.  A lot of changes took place since May.  The youngest son graduated college, moved to Utah to be with his true love, and basically abandoned his old man.  Gone were my hiking buddies (the youngest and his bride-to-be) and I was left to search for adventure alone.  Little did I realize how deeply connected we were . . . and I casted it upon the waters . . .

The wife and I started the summer with one beautiful granddaughter in Colorado with another one in Alabama that joined the family at the tail end of July.  At the present time we only have a relationship with one as the mother of the other has chosen to deny us a relationship with our granddaughter.  There is a lot of anger and hostility on the mother’s part, a lot of frustration and confusion on our parts.  The granddaughter in Alabama is a beautiful joy and our adventure with her is just beginning, but it hurts to think about what could have been with the beauty in Colorado.  So I casted it upon the waters . . .

The house was emptier than it has ever been before in our lives this summer.  With the youngest and his bride-to-be down in Utah . . . the oldest living in Colorado . . . and the daughter, son-in-law, and newest grandchild in Alabama . . . there was less noise and activity in the house.  The one child who lives with us still is an introvert and despite his best efforts he barely made a din.  I discovered that I missed the noise and activity of having family around.  I casted it upon the waters . . .

Probably last, but by no means the least, was my health.  The winter months were too good to me as I let my body enjoy life a little too much.  Let’s just say there is more of me to enjoy life.  Add to that the fact that my thyroid still was not quite acting as it should have been, which raised my cholesterol, and I didn’t always quite feel like myself.  Watching my diet, a little of better life through chemistry, and things are beginning to look a whole lot better.  But with my health . . . I casted it upon the waters . . .

My mother always enjoyed autumn the best.  She said that it was the time of the year when everything in nature and life was beginning to slow down.  It was a good time for sitting back and reflecting upon life.  I understand what she means . . .

Edwin Way Teale writes: “For man, autumn is a time of harvest, of gathering together. For nature, it is a time of sowing, of scattering abroad.”  I think that which I casted upon the waters has returned . . . the time for harvesting its worth is now.  In its return I have discovered the blessing of gift.  I have discovered a rich and deep connection—relationship—with my family that cannot be lessen despite the distance that is between us.  True, they may not be physically with me, but they are in my heart no matter where my adventures may take me.  In that we are always together and the reunions are wonderful.  In my granddaughters, yes, granddaughters I have found a deep joy and hope for what may come . . . nothing can ever separate us for that love runs deep whether we ever see each other again.  A part of me is in each of them, and they are always within me.  There is always hope for what may be.  And, my health . . . well, unknowingly wallowing around lamenting a summer lost is no way to appreciate the gift God has blessed me with—life.  It only adds to the waist and waste.  I have no one to blame for that but myself. 

Happiness and purpose . . . both came back even though that was not what I was expecting.  It is found in the relationships in my life.  I have been blessed with a wonderful family that continues to grow . . . a beautiful place to call home . . . and purpose for getting up each and every day.  No, not work . . . I get paid to do that.  No, in the relationships that grace my life each and every day.  Life is in the relationship.  Sometimes we just look for it in the wrong places.  Sometimes we just need to cast our bread upon the waters . . . God will return it . . . and then we will know.