Unsettled. That’s the best way to describe my recent feelings. About life, about writing, about everything. I’m unsure when it started. Maybe it was when I looked at my readership analytics and saw the size of my audience. Small. Tiny even.

I’ve been having fun with spreadsheets. Actually, it’s only one spreadsheet. I decided a while back I needed to be in better touch with my finances.

It’s warm and humid this morning with fog sitting on the far hills drifting down to touch the trees in the back pasture. No bird sounds to speak of, and the highway hum is low.

I did some wash yesterday and discovered two more pennies. So, here’s another two cents worth of my thoughts and questions on a subject that interests me…

I love technology and I love that I lived and experienced the introduction of computers and their brothers and sisters. That experience paid off twice in the last two days.

In the early days of video cameras, when they weighed 20 pounds and occupied a large spot on your shoulder, I refused to participate.

While we’re on the subject of Vietnam, which is where I was yesterday. Here’s my favorite book on the subject, and not a favorite because it lays out some great theoretical story about why and how we got there, but a favorite because it’s full of great writing and tells stories about the little guys, because most histories are about the officers, and this one is about the grunts.

I found myself in close proximity to a bookstore the other day. Went in and browsed around. Found a copy of Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried. Bought it. Brought it home. Read it. I’m glad I did.

There are books that are fun to read and that’s that. There are books that make you think, and that’s that. But then there are books the make you think and suddenly that’s no longer that, but something entirely different

In addition, to reading, I like to cook, and this book is my bible and guide and reference point.

I like J.D. Salinger but not for the book that made him famous, Catcher in the Rye. I just didn’t get it. But Franny and Zooey, well, that was a different story.

I’ve loved McPhee’s work ever since I ran across his writing in the New Yorker back in the early 70s. He writes in elegant prose and he’s right up there with E. B. White another New Yorker author I love.

I remember as a young boy going to the battlefield in Yorktown. Looking at the redoubts. Walking the ground. It was exhilarating. It was made more so, because I’d read a book called We Were There at the Battle of Yorktown, from a popular young adult series back in the fifties.

The world is hot and only one man can save it. Sounds like a historical novel, but it’s fiction by Neal Stephenson.

My son-in-law, Army veteran, Ranger, and reserve officer is a constant source of reading material for me. Last Christmas he gave me: Black Hawk Down.

My great grandfather immigrated from Norway, joined the United States army in New Orleans, fought in the Mexican-American War, and was discharged from Fort Martin Scott, in Fredericksburg, just down the road from my house in Johnson City, Texas.

Once again we go back to war college. My son-in-law was selected to attend the U.S Army War College. He received his book list, shared it with me, and I thought it was interesting. One of the books in particular caught my eye, Supreme Command, by Elliot A. Cohen. I bought it.

I watched a multi-part docudrama series on the creation of Spotify recently called the Playlist. You can find it on Netflix.

No fireworks to speak of yesterday. Mostly I did the one thing I love to do. Read a book. Almost all day.