Just a short blog post today...

Driving home from Bellevue one evening last week, I spotted a double rainbow behind a rain storm that had just passed in an area we call “the farm land.”  I quickly pulled over, rolled down the passenger side window, and clicked a picture with my iPhone.  Notice the colors of the second rainbow are inverted.  The blue is on the outside and the red moved to the inside.

Demri is visiting for a couple of weeks, and like any good host, Lisa and I want her to experience as much of the locale as possible.  So first things first, we took her out on the sailboat, sailing to Rosario Resort on Orcas Island for a couple of days.  Ian, Kaylene, and the grandkids also came along. 

Demri’s birthday was on Tuesday.  Happy 28 Demri!  Notice Lisa’s exceptional job in wrapping and in presenting gifts?

On our Washington Park walk below.

Living on the western shore of Fidalgo Island we see a variety of sunsets from our home and neighborhood.  With the sun setting over the San Juan Islands, reflecting off the waters of Rosario Straight, and the forever changing cloud conditions, we never know what we are going to get.  The cloud formation from a sunset seen earlier last week (pictured above) is something we had not seen before. 

The fawns are popping out all over.  This little one we came across while on our walk in Washington Park.

A humming bird flew into the garage while the doors were open.  Instead of flying back out, all he would do was fly along the ceiling looking for a way out.  And no amount of persuasion could get him to drop down from the ceiling and fly to safety.  Dumb bird.  Beautiful, but dumb.

Terry and Joan Jenson, friends from San Jose, came and spent a few days with us last week.  We picked them up from the airport in Seattle on Thursday and then went to the Museum of Flight, followed by dinner at the Space Needle. 

On Friday we took a tour of the Boeing manufacturing facility in Everett.  I will simply say it was amazing to see the large scale assembly operation of the aircraft.  The building behind us in the picture above is enormous, large enough to house all of Disneyland.  The Boeing tour is now on our list of activities for when friends and family come visit. 

On Saturday we went sailing and later gathered agates from Rosario Beach.

I’ve been reading a book for hopeful writers (that’s me) on crafting stories from your life.  I want to continue to make progress on writing my life story and reading the book keeps me engaged and moving forward.  One of the exercises in the book directs the reader to go through their desk drawer and pick out an object, and in that object there should be an artifact of a story, a story that is worth writing.  Pictured above is the object I chose from my desk.  It’s a letter opener I made for my mother when I was just a kid.  After she passed away the letter opener was returned to its designer and creator.  Below is the story of the letter opener as best as I can remember.  

This particular story came to life in my 12th year as a 7th grader at Western View Junior High School in Corvallis.  It was during the 1965-66 school year. 

Whether assigned or an elective I don’t recall, but I was enrolled in an industrial arts class.  At the time the industrial arts program included the fabricating of objects in wood or metal using a variety of hand, power, or machine tools.  As a 7th grader I wasn’t old enough or skilled in the use of power or machine tools.  That would come later.  The program also included instruction in technical drawing.  Industrial art classes were known as “shop class” and I don’t recollect a girl ever taking the class.  At the time shop class was for boys, the equivalent of home economics for girls.  Of course that is not the case today.  

The Industrial Arts classroom was located in the southeast wing of the school across the hallway from the gymnasium (the last classroom in the furthest wing from the school’s entrance).  The room was dark and industrial looking (What else would it be?), and full of woodworking machinery, hand tools, and benches.  Classroom tables and chairs were placed at the front of the room opposite the blackboard.  

The teacher was Mr. Itzen.  To my 12 years he seemed really tall, although looking back I’m sure he wasn’t over six feet.  He was also slender, always wore jeans and cowboy boots, and his belt had a big silver buckle.  He combed his slick black hair back and wore equally black rimmed eye glasses.  What I recall most was his prominent adams apple and his deep raspy smokers voice. 

The letter opener was one of the showcase projects for term.  I drew on paper what I wanted my letter opener to look like (the technical drawing portion of the class), and then I crafted my project using a thin piece of brass for the opener and rectangular piece of metal for the handle. 

Both sections had to be cut and shaped using hand tools; a scroll saw for the cutting and a file for smoothing out the edges after they were cut.  Once each piece was fashioned I cut a slot in the top of the metal handle to receive the brass opener.  I then drilled two holes in the handle and in the brass.  A solid rivet was inserted into each hole.  The rivet’s secured the brass opener and metal handle together by me pounding the tail of the rivet with a hammer to create a new head.  Once done, the rivets became the permanent fasteners.  The final steps in the fabrication process were to polish the brass and metal with steel wool and then paint on a coat varnish. 

After my project was complete Mr. Itzen spoke with me about my design and what I had learned in crafting the letter opener.  The memory of what I said or what grade I received is lost, hidden in the shadows of my mind.  Although, I do remember other student’s letter openers being much better looking than mine.

I like to think that my 7th grade shop class fostered and triggered my interest in working with my hands, designing and crafting a variety of objects throughout my life.  Thank you Mr. Itzen.

Happy 59th birthday to my bride!

Happy 36th birthday Ian!

It really is the circle of life when it comes to your body.  When I got out of high school I wore a pant size of 29”.  That 29 inches grew to 34 inches by the time I had reached the age of thirty.  Up until last year I had maintained that 34 inch pant waist size with little variation.  Recently I had to purchase pants in a 33 inch waist because size 34 are simply too big for me now.  If I had my car keys, my cell phone, and my wallet in my pockets, my 34 waist pants would drop to my knees. 

Lisa and I were shopping on Saturday and we decided I should get some pants that fit me.  Well, now pants with a 33 inch waist are too big for me and I had to purchase some in size 32.  At this rate I’ll be back in a 29 inch pant in a couple of years.  By the time I’m eighty years old I’ll be in size 12.   

When I used to work for the government (gee, it seems like just yesterday) I would write about my experiences and include them in my blog postings.  Now that my work focus has changed, I’m less likely to write about my work going forward, simply because I don’t like to share with others what I am doing.  Lisa and I have learned from first hand experience that trading the markets is a controversial subject.  So this will likely be one of the few times you’ll see me write about trading.

Now that I am trading in the stock and futures market on a daily basis, I’m continuing to educate myself on trading in those markets (I’m taking an online class this week).  And as such, I have come to understand that Lisa and I have been educated the last couple of years to think different than the conventional wisdom.  

One of the things I find interesting is how we are taught to do certain things and how we learn, specifically when it comes to anything that has to do with competing.  In the United States for example, we compete for jobs, money, better this and better that.  Do you realize that in the biggest democracy in history, our school systems don’t teach classes on how to compete (Other than maybe in sports)?  

Have you also noticed the natural education path of our school system is to train everyone to think the same way.  This is bad news for those who already have the herd mentality, yet great news for those who focus on the simplicities and opportunities of competition.  It all begins with thinking and acting different.  If you bring the herd mentality mindset to competing and trading in the markets, you will likely hand over the money in your account to those who think and act different about the market.

In capitalism, there is typically a winner and, unfortunately, a loser, yet people in this country are rarely taught how to compete or think differently.  In fact, it’s the opposite.  When children grow up, get a job, and begin to compete into the business world, in many ways they are unprepared for the reality of competition.  They want the company where they work, Company A, to succeed.  But for their company to be profitable, another company, say competing Company B, will be losing money (or not making as much money) because Company A is earning revenue from those customers who use or buy Company A’s product, not Company B.

The same applies to multiple people competing for a single job opening at Company A.  The fortunate one who lands the job does so at the expense of those who didn’t get the job.  Where someone succeeds, someone fails.  It’s called competition.     

     
Some of the books I’ve read that teach conventional Technical Analysis tend to teach it the same way, which offers little to no competitive edge.  Lisa and I are careful in not taking the same action the masses do in the markets, for they are not the ones who consistently make a profit.  Like Company A, we are the ones who want to make a profit.  To do so takes effort, time, and persistence.  This is our reality. 

Lisa and I spent Sunday with Ian and Kaylene at their home in Federal Way.  In the afternoon we drove to at the Rhododendron Botanical Garden and walked the grounds.  It was warm, sunny, and beautiful, and most plants were in bloom.  Below are a few pictures taken at the garden.