Here’s that sermon note I mentioned in a previous post. I’ll leave it to you to make sense of these notes. Again, they made perfect sense to me when I wrote them and preached from them. Reading over this again today, I think I oversimplified the descent/ascent categories of things created. The great sea creatures of the deep occurring prior to forces of nature strikes me today as interesting. I don’t think I noticed it when I made these notes. Of course Zechariah’s statement connects the psalm to the Christ in 148:14. The last shall be first.
“About a hundred years” is a phrase I’ve noticed I’ve overused here. Will see about discontinuing its use.
I left a long sentence fragment in yesterday’s post. I thought about correcting it, but I liked it and left where I put it yesterday.
Apparently someone named William Nicholson wrote, “We read to know we’re not alone.” Supposedly the remark is from a play about the life of C.S. Lewis, Shadowlands, and I probably first heard it in the film of the same name. Then I forgot where I heard it until I looked it up late morning today before writing all this.
About a hundred years ago, when I was a small child living with my younger brother and my mom in a 1920’s cut-rate, smallish Mission Revival style bungalow on 18th Street below Mesa in San Pedro, California in the days before area codes. That’s when I first began to read – to bend my mind in earnest to read.
We were my father’s second family (or, who knows, possibly his third or fourth – he was capable of living double and triple lives if it suited him). Dad came to the door and I crowded beside my mother at the door impulsively the way little kids respond to anything like a telephone bell or a knock on the door. My dad was excited in a happy way. He held up a stack of papers for me to examine, pointed to some words about midway down, and asked, “What does that say?”
What he’d pointed to was his name on the title page of his doctoral dissertation. I couldn’t read his name and tried to sound it out, couldn’t, felt ashamed. I remember that.
Dad flipped out and started yelling at my mom, cursing. The gist of what he said was, “What are they teaching him at that school” – a parochial school where my mom taught to offset tuition. Dad used profanity. Mom started crying and pleading with Dad to understand that I’d only recently started 1st Grade (we’d been out of the country during the year I would have been in Kindergarten).
And I can still recall wondering why it was that I started crying as soon as my mother started crying. Dad wasn’t angry with me and I didn’t feel sad. I remember wondering about that strange circumstance and connection and feeling dissatisfied with it.
I read because my father programmed me to read using the trauma method of child training. I didn’t know that’s what had happened. I was only consciously aware of the strange connection-with-my-mom thing. I read to make my father happy and keep my mother from crying.
I was a different kind of child – I spoke my first sentence at about nine months. “Look Mommy, doggy eat eat all up.” That sentence is recorded in a scrapbook documenting my first year of life.
Years later, during elementary school, I was subjected to an intelligence test. I have a freakishly high intelligence quotient. The kind of I.Q. based on actual calculations of the sort that doesn’t factor in leftist fantasies about correcting for whiteness or ‘privilege’. Several standard deviations above the mean, within the standard error of measure.
I wish my dad had come unglued about a math problem because if he had, I’d probably have become a math prodigy of some sort and mind-numbingly rich due to having weaponized human consciousness or something easier like Tesla’s electric-power-out-of-the-air or perpetual motion underwater drives or how to travel faster than the speed of light. I have worked out some basis for understanding the nature of time and human experience of and function within same. Etc. But my point is, the ability to read. The ability to comprehend pretty much anything another human mind can devise and put into words. Big whoop, right?
Another problem with high intelligence is that you tend to think everyone’s like you, and when they don’t understand what’s obvious to you, or what you think is simple, straightforward communication, it’s damnably frustrating. It’s easy to become embittered against people who are just being the people they are and genuinely aren’t able to grasp what seems simple to you. More difficult but right is finding a way to show kindness toward them, and a lot of the time that involves wishing them well from a safe distance.
Watching TV and Reading
When I was young, I had asthma, severe allergies. Those conditions imposed limitations upon my activities. I remember frequent trips to the local emergency room and “adrenaline shots.” Additionally, I was sick a lot. The kind of sickness that results in feeling weak and barfing. I spent a lot of time indoors and home from school due to illness.
I watched a lot of TV. I read all the time and also drew pictures pretty much constantly.
I still read and sometimes still draw. If you look, you can find some of my drawings in various posts on this blog.
Over the past 10 plus years have watched TV shows by the season on various subscription services. I watched a couple of seasons of The Pretender TV series. More than once, I wish I’d been sold to a research institute and raised to fulfill my intellectual potential. The renowned Karen Horney famously opined that the first evil children perceive is parental indifference and I think she was right. To this day, I have no idea to what purpose my parents “raised” me.
Back when I had a Facebook page, in the About section, I described myself as the “product of a Cold War era eugenics experiment that went unreported in the major scientific journals of the day.” That’s a metaphor, right? I use metaphor to cope with life as I experience life, to help explain and make tolerable that experience.
Right now, I’m reading a Karen Traviss novel entitled “Going Grey” about the product of military industrial biological experiment that was carried to full term and allowed to live. Odd it strikes me that someone’s written a novel about something similar to what I in dark good humor wrote about myself. Or maybe it’s pretty common to feel that way. Possibly there’re a lot of us who feel we may as well have been grown in a tank.
Because at one point in my life – 25 to 30 years ago – I got tired of hearing myself whine about “I never chose to be born into this family” and “Why should I have to suffer because of (whatever I wanted to believe was someone else’s fault goes here)?” Because of that, and my complaining was constant enough it broke through to my conscious awareness as an irritant, I found a way to stop it. I asked God to provide me exactly the circumstances I found so objectionable – parents, family situation, life circumstances. And I invited the Almighty to join me, to experience all that with me.
Emotions are Shit
recently heard a preacher declare that worship equals an amalgam of emotion and truth, but I don’t think emotion is necessarily a component of worship. I think human beings likely apprehend and respond to the majesty and glory of God in a variety of ways. Worship is transformative and elevating.
Emotions are the byproduct of neurobiological functioning that involves awareness and the ability to know one is having an experience – like feces and urine are material byproduct of the way we, as organisms acquire/process nutrients through feeding and digesting. We live and experience and produce emotions just like we eat and process nutrients and are left with waste matter. Emotions are a variety of waste.
Maybe not in every instance are emotions of no value. Sometimes in the moment we experience an emotion that tells us that something in the circumstances we inhabit is problematic or is okay or is better than okay. But the emotions we’re left with after an experience versus those we experience in the moment are pretty much shit. Offload it discretely, clean up, and move on.
If you’ve read this far, maybe you’re not the only one of your species on this planet regardless of what it feels like to be you.
The Windows computer – a $380 HP refurb I bought in late 2016 from Woot.com – I’ve used for work-from-home lately and most other tasks requiring computer or online presence since purchase – developed an inability to connect to local network or Internet. Tried multiple fixes with no joy.
Made do with an ancient mid-2013 Macbook Pro upgraded to 16gb RAM and running latest OS resulting in odd instabilities. For two or three weeks now the unstable – strange reboot loops as if the machine is responding to internal stimuli as well as other problems -MBP has been my workstation. A couple of weeks ago, I located a Macbook Pro with 2.9 Ghz i9 six core processor, 32 GB RAM and a 1TB SSD hard drive at Mac of All Trades and bought that. It arrived Monday.
After setting up the new computer and updating the OS to Big Sur, I noticed yesterday morning the OS failed to recognize my administrator password and TouchID as valid although it allowed me to log in to the computer using password for basic use. This problem I discovered after trying without success to get Migration Assistant to work on both laptops.
I tried several fixes, but the one that worked was this:
- I erased the Macbook Pro using the Find My feature from the 2013 Macbook Pro.
- Using Disk Utilities from the Command-R menu after rebooting the computer post erasure, I again erased (renaming at the same time) the Macbook Pro’s hard drive.
- I reinstalled the latest OS – Big Sur.
- I again set up the computer using the OS personalization regime.
This time both password and TouchID work for all administrative tasks I’ve needed. On the other hand, at about six hours using home Wi-Fi, Migration Assistant hung up for about another hour at “About One Hour Remaining.” I stopped that process and began using the computer. I will transfer files piecemeal as I have time. So, partial success.
What Was I Thinking?
About a hundred years ago when I attended a Southern Baptist seminary, I remember thinking, while sitting in James Nogalski’s Old Testament survey class, “What’s the deal with this judgment against Nineveh/Assyria?” Then I remembered the Jonah narrative and reckoned Nahum only made sense in light of Jonah.
I remember asking up about this in class and getting no good response from Dr. Nogalski that I can now recall. The discussion that ensued briefly among my classmates, however, I recall pretty well. Most of those who spoke up simply made the usual thoughtless remarks about all people in all places at all times owing God fealty and worship. True but not sufficient to make sense of Nahum. As if the scribes were incapable of applying their minds and making rational sense as they recorded and organized prophecies and history.
Of course the prophets and the written narratives of their work and utterances have their origins in the mind of God and have value in a standalone sense but they have been organized and exist in history and in the canon of scripture in relationship to one another. However, to leave off thought and query out of a devotionalistic failure to apply mind to the obvious relationships between concepts, events, prophetic statements found in scripture is a kind of false worship and perceptual diminution of the mind and work of God.
So, why would YHWH judge so harshly the people of Nineveh and the nation ruled from that locale any more than any other Gentile nation? Because years before, the people of Nineveh repented and turned to YHWH at the preaching of Jonah. A different relationship had been established by YHWH with the people of Nineveh through preaching of Jonah versus, say, the Cimmerians or the Ethiopians.
What is this stuff?
The first of these is obviously an introductory outline. I don’t know where the other two fell in my series. The one entitled The Problem with the Church @ Nineveh may have been a segue between my series on Jonah and that on Nahum. The third, brief note or outline? Possibly early in the series? Dunno.
About that introductory outline – I remember saying stuff like, “We’ve got a lot material to get through, so let’s get started.” Very inspirational delivery.
I haven’t line by line gone back over these notes. That said, I know everything I wrote made perfect sense to me when I wrote it and made at least okay if maybe complicated sense when I preached from it to the congregation. Whether this will make a lick of sense to anyone reading this blog or have any beneficial effect in the lives of that population, I have no idea.
Nothing to See Here
The Center for Security Policy published an opinion piece the other day with which I agree – Nothing to See Here. As the United States of America goes full Zimbabwe, I take some comfort in the fact that I’m not alone in perceiving a real problem relative to mainstream media and government unwillingness to address obvious fraud, failure, and conspiracy.
Why Wouldn’t They Cheat?
This article over at Townhall posted several days ago – Why Wouldn’t They Cheat? – outlines clearly what the myriad of useful idiots on the left and their masters think of those of us who will never willingly travel with them. And, importantly, how those mistaken beliefs have driven their electron fraud strategies.
The Democrat/Communist party has an agenda that includes:
- Significantly reducing overall employment in order to force as many people as they can to rely upon government handouts to subsist. The Chinese Coronavirus has allowed Democrat governors to force huge numbers of citizens out of work and destroy many small businesses. They’re trying to create a need and then “meet” it. To create a problem and then “solve” it.
- Paying those cognitively best suited for menial employment to stay home on the basis of a spurious disability in order to create a labor vacuum to draw millions of illegal aliens into this country as a means of fundamentally transforming it into the image of a third-world cesspool or, if that doesn’t take, in order to balkanize the United States of America so that some Democommunist “redeemer” type, like Obama, can preside over its dissolution.
- While in the mean time forcing the nation to serve as a host to the parasitic “needs” of “less developed” failed nation-states.
- Whether or not their electoral fraud scheme is ultimately successful doesn’t matter much to them because even if they fail to install their chosen dementia patient in the White House, in the eyes of several million of their useful idiots, they succeed in further dividing the nation and delegitimizing the second Trump administration and the constitutional election process.
- Obscuring the fact that BLM/Antifa is the moral equivalent of the KKK and other exclusivist, chauvinistic groups that espouse violence to achieve their ends.
And so forth. All of this should be obvious to persons of even average intelligence.
Working and Coping
Since about mid-march, I’ve been working from home. There’re some pros and cons, I’ve found, associated with the arrangement. To the good it’s easy to get to the gym every morning, workout, get back to the house and ready for work on time. I’ve been doing gym workouts six or seven days a week since the gym reopened several months ago. Lunchtime bike rides are easy to manage, but usually less than four miles.
My reason for buying that grandmotherly green 2008 Prius has been mooted. I don’t have to drive anywhere, much. Still, the car’s cheap to operate and pleasant if not very interesting to drive.
Working from home becomes a grind. Very little variety relative to daily experience gets old. Going to the gym every day gets old. Riding around Burnt Down Plantation Estates gets old. Wearing a Dickie’s T-shirt, cargo shorts and Keen sandals with socks every day gets old. I have no reason to wear anything else and it would feel stupid to dress differently to stay home.
We’ve still got stuff in boxes in the spare bedroom, sunroom and garage from my mom’s estate. The clutter is annoying and renders whole portions of the house nonfunctional. We’ve rearranged things in the house to incorporate some of Mom’s furniture into our living space. Before Mom died, we’d planned to have some remodeling done, and clearing space for that’s been stuck at the partway mark for months.
While clearing out the computer hutch that’s now become Caution-Lady’s craft hutch in the spare bedroom, I found a stack of about six or seven outlines I’d written for a series of sermons I preached a few years ago.
Update – I found the notes and they are mostly related to my series on Nahum. One’s for a sermon on Psalm 148 – it’s a Christmas message. And there’re a couple of pages of scrawled thoughts about similarities between Jesus and Jonah. Another’s a page of notes for a sermon on the nature of reality that I think’s already posted here.
This is not Hell
I think they’re from a too lengthy series on Jonah, then addressing Nahum because you can’t make sense Nahum without Jonah. All of that was to necessary to understand that Paul’s ministry is that Jonah in reverse. And here lately I think I’ve begun to understand that part of what was wrong with Jonah or Jonah’s “bad” is that he wanted the ministry of Christ – wanted to usurp the role of the Messiah.
If you pay attention while reading the Gospels or if you just read them through times enough to notice – Christ makes mention of Jonah repeatedly and also lives out some of the events of Jonah’s life. For instance, falling asleep in the boat while a storm threatens to overwhelm it and the crew, afraid, awakens Jesus and demands he does something to make it stop. Elvis Costello reckons Heaven is Hell in reverse, but he was mistaken. Theological patterns don’t always occur in binary symmetry.
I’ll see if I can get the notes scanned and posted here this weekend.
Chest, Shoulders & Triceps
Saturday was my day for heavy lifting with emphasis on chest, triceps, and shoulders. Many years ago, I damaged my shoulders bench pressing more weight than was reasonable using poor form. I’d probably been drinking or operating out of drunkard’s mindset. Anyway, to this day, I have problems with my shoulders. A couple of bicycle crashes w/in the past two years haven’t helped, either.
For about three or four months, I’ve been trying to rehabilitate my shoulders by first using machines that help out by smoothly guiding movement through a range of motion. Using very light weight to begin with, I’ve increased the number of plates I move. A couple of weeks ago, I added free weights – very light dumbells for bilateral simultaneous use either symmetrically or asymmetrically depending on what I’m trying to accomplish. I remember some exercises from paddling workshops to strengthen rotator cuffs, also some I learned during a couple of physical therapy treatments.
Back in early October, my family and I took a few days off – stayed at a hotel, went to an amusement park, etc. Prior to that short break, I’d been dumbell pressing as much as 75# in each hand. May not sound like much to you, but it took me a while to work up to that. The fitness room in the hotel where we stayed in October had dumbells weighted up to 50#. I used them because an easy workout is better than no workout. When we got home again, though, I had difficulty moving even 60# dumbells.
I still haven’t got back to where I was in terms of weight I’m able to lift under control repeatedly. Back to yesterday – again a lot of pain at one shoulder, difficulty moving the weights and maintaining control of them. I got through the workout using lighter weight on multiple stations for chest. I continued with shoulder and had no difficulty with triceps or core.
Yesterday was my day at the gym for legs – heavy lifting – and core. I did core with medicine ball, neck bridges, some medicine ball twitch reflex stuff for shoulders/chest. Did that also on Saturday.
While moving around a bunch of 45# plates for the leg-press carriage – re-racking them where I got them or where they’re supposed to go – I strained my lower back and oblique muscles. Felt terrible, but I was able to complete my workout. Later, I rode my bike to the worship service our family attends, and I didn’t enjoy the ride out, at all. During the service, my back hurt the entire time. Ride back to the house was okay, though.
This morning when I woke up at 4:00, as I usually do, I decided to go back to bed. Today’s the day I had planned to do heavy lifting for back and biceps. I’ll hit that tomorrow. In the mean time, I’m going to try intermittent fast until noon. Who knows, maybe I’ll go to supper. Fasting usually clears my mind and I could live off my fat for a week, if I had to, anyway. I’m up to 185# by my bathroom scale although some of that increased weight may be muscle.
Two years without formal ministry or mission. I yammer about this and related matters as follows:
Around two years ago, I stepped away from formal Christian ministry. Ours was a micro-church and our congregation focused on exegesis of Scripture, our theology Reformed. Since that time, we’ve regularly attended worship services with first one congregation and now another, closer to where we live. Regarding congregational commitment, I’m committed to worshiping with other believers who evidence a Reformed understanding of Scripture.
The fellow who preached at the first congregation had a Reformed theology and an approach to preaching that was similar to my own –
A passage of scripture is like a room and the preacher’s job is to talk about what’s in the room and if something’s left out of that description, the job’s not done. The congregation, guided by the Holy Spirit, figures out for itself what, if anything, to do with what’s in the room. It’s a good idea, if you have the ability, to go so far as to talk about where the fabric on the drapes was sourced and about the pattern on the rug – it’s derivation and meaning. Exhaustive is good. Superficial is bad.
There might not be an obvious or attenuated application that preacher can make clear in a sermon. What matters is that the passage of Scripture is an expression of the mind of God and listening to it, reading it, getting hung up on what it’s saying is transformative to the believer. Might also be transformative to the reprobate by turning such away from the things of God.
That made for some long sermons, and the guy at the first congregation usually started his off with a 10 minute re-cap of the previous week’s sermon. That was my only complaint about his sermons. The re-cap. He and his family returned to the mission field – we never became friends, but I liked them and have prayed for them since they left.
The congregation we’ve been worshiping with the past several months has a preacher who’s also Reformed and does exegetical, to a degree, preaching. His messages tend to be heavy on application. The second guy seems like a decent sort – a normal, non-self-aggrandizing individual. What I like about his work is that he uses Scripture to interpret Scripture. His sermons start on time and end on time – I like that, too, although it’s not super important to me. Regarding sermon time – it takes however long it takes to deliver the message.
Regarding my own life sans formal ministry or mission, I’m okay with it. I never was fully convinced that I met scriptural qualifications for elder. In the grossly problematic category, I find:
- Do I manage my own home well? Not as well as I ought to – I procrastinate too much.
- Is my child an unruly heathen? Yeah, sometimes I really wonder whether the kid’s numbered among the elect. I have explained the Gospel to him and taught him to search the Scripture, to pray without ceasing and call upon the name of the Lord.
- Am I the husband of one wife? Dunno. About a hundred years ago, in California, I lived with a young woman for a couple of years. We were never formally married, but we lived together and expected the same level of commitment each from the other in terms of fidelity that’s expected of spouses. But we never pretended to be married. We stayed friends for a long time afterward and there’s more to the story but not for the telling here.
- Am I pugnacious? Sometimes I flare up and express anger in a way that could lead to fisticuffs although I have no interest in forcing submission to my will or views.
I remember when I left government work – nothing important, but work that vested me with the authority of the state in some instances – I felt naked without identification in that employment. That cloak of authority.
Leaving formal ministry was a little like that only when I did, I knew I wasn’t walking away from the faith or the obligation of service to my eternal sovereign. That said, I think I’m unlikely to formally join another congregation or to engage in a formal “ministry” w/in any such conceptual structure.
In some respects, I think I’m unreachable by what passes for air-quote Christianity as so much of what that entails is irrelevant to me and my family. Sometimes I wish there was some relevance or that I had some sense of belonging in a congregational group, but I’m not willing shelve my discernment and freedom in Christ.
Note that all images and captions are aligned center in editing mode.
Last Saturday I paddled the Barren Fork/Collins River from Smooth Rapids at McMinnville to the former VFW lodge just outside McMinnville. I got to Smooth Rapids a little after 11:00, dropped off my kayak and gear, then the guy who runs the place met me at the VFW parking lot where I left the Volvo. He said they had some scheduling conflicts for shuttling that day.
The VFW lodge is now owned by somebody trying to run a barbecue restaurant. It didn’t look “Open” on Saturday but there were a few people around back who said they were preparing for a charity auction that night. I spoke with them because I needed change for a 20 in order pay the honor-system parking fee of five dollars.
I paddled Saturday without the rudder, leaving the pedal assembly in place but clipping in the foot-plate supplied by Long Haul. The foot plate ‘covers’ the rudder pedals. The bow gunwale halves come with a strap and clip for it pre-installed on either side. The top clip should be hung from the bow deckbar between ribs 2 and 3 during assembly. I didn’t but was able to attach it without much trouble when I deflated the sponsons some to remove the spraydeck. When I’d got underway, I found I hadn’t tightened both sides the same. You can see some slack left side in the picture, above.
By mistake I grabbed a 220 cm paddle from the paddle-bin instead of the 225 I’d planned to use. Turned out 220 cm is plenty long enough for the Long Haul Mark I. Without the spraydeck, the kayak’s gothic arch cockpit is easy to get into and out of.
Last Saturday was warmer than the previous Saturday, so I wore shorts, quick-dry undergarments and a short-sleeved shirt as well as Body Glove foot-shaped water shoes with drain holes. Those water shoes acted like little buckets and shipped a lot of water every time I got into the kayak. The week before, when it was about 10 degrees cooler, I’d worn splash pants with a pair of Chota Mukluk Light shoes, kept the spraydeck in place, and the kayak stayed very dry inside.
If you float the entire route I paddled, it’s supposed to take about four hours. I completed the section of river in about two. I paddled most of the way and felt disappointed it hadn’t taken longer. On the other hand, I wasn’t really enjoying the experience – no fault of the river or the kayak.
The temperature was warm and the skies mostly overcast, but without rain or even mist until the drive home. The river water was pretty cold and I wasn’t dressed suitably for immersion. The kayak’s Comfort Seat stayed inflated this time and was pretty comfortable. I’m undecided whether to move it forward. May leave it where it is for a while.
My heart wasn’t really in it last weekend – I was feeling glum about the recent national election. I’m not feeling excited about it today, but I remain hopeful that recounts, independent IT data scourers and the courts will result in a Trump win.
But I say that in order to explain in part why my experience on the water last Saturday, while not crap, wasn’t a lot of fun for me and I found myself just thinking about getting to the take-out and heading back to the house.
Without the rudder, I found I had to make a lot of corrective strokes to keep the kayak pointed in the direction I was looking. It tended to driftcock or weathercock or leecock or whatever the right term is.
I leaned modestly to put the kayak on its side a bit to turn more quickly. Stability for this didn’t seem too worrisome. Feeling connected to the kayak for me was a problem relative to leaning, though. In a couple of places where the river’s elevation dropped and turned, the Mark I proved maneuverable enough to pretty easily left then right.
Although it’s natural to hook my knees up under the curled tops of the middle cockpit rib, No. 4. They’re not as good as carlings, but they’re okay. I need to better adjust the foot brace, and I do plan to move the rudder pedal assembly as close to Rib No. 3 as possible when I next assemble the boat.
The water was running high enough I never had to get out of the kayak to pull it through shallow water over rocks. At one point the hull scraped a rock. Later, back at the house, I noticed part of a keelstrip’s black outer coating had scraped off. The hullskin’s previous owner had applied a lot of Aqua Seal. It’s started peeling off all over the hull and looks terrible but I don’t think that’s much of a problem.
During my brief trip downriver, I saw several great blue herons. I saw one bird that looked like a cross between a blue jay and a woodpecker. I saw two fat groundhogs shuffling fast along the shoreline. I saw a fish surface quickly. I don’t recall whether I saw any turtles.
I saw a weathered wooden pallet about halfway up in some tree branches near where the Collins River flows into the Barren Fork. Snapped a picture of that.
At one or two points during my float, I wasn’t able to hear any man-made sounds. I let my ears find their focus listening to a small waterfall on my right. Wind sounds in the many trees’ dry leaves also accompanied my paddle’s rhythmic splash.
At the takeout I had a hard time getting my kayak on the Volvo’s roof-racks on the steepish-for-that-purpose concrete boat ramp. About halfway up the ramp is a flat spot for turn-off, but I thought it imprudent to drag the kayak that far. A fellow paddler who arrived a little after I did helped me get the boat on the racks.
When I set out, I thought I would stop on the way home for a cheeseburger. I’d been wanting one of those Burger King Impossible Whoppers. I like them because I don’t feel heavy and polluted like I do after eating an ordinary fast food cheeseburger. But I didn’t stop. I’d had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a Larabar about a half hour after getting on the river. That was enough until supper. I have some work to do figuring out my caloric needs.