Fact Fiction and Wishful Thinking

At last I'm in the midst of putting things in order, in the trash, or in the Goodwill bag.  Actually I have no preference in the realm of who gets old clothes and such from me.  There happens to be a Goodwill facility in Alpine. That was where I found my dresser.

There is a set amount to accomplish before departure.  I pushed blast off back one day to best achieve my ends.  I have a feeling I may wish I'd flown, but that carries other limitations which are not ideal.

So many things come to my attention, but they fly away when I decide to write something.  That is why I write things like the previous post.  It may have a point but it is not really that interesting to me at the moment.  Not a high priority topic.

Most of the travel will be through places which aren't that great this time of year, but in South Florida it is prime time.   Hectic and nuts.  It is good to get to the quiet of the hodge-podge neighborhood on the inlet canal on the Gulf of Mexico.  If you wanted, you could easily walk to the Atlantic Ocean.   More fun in a boat.

It has been awhile since I've stayed with others more than a day.  Definitely some overdue re-programming and overall edification appear to be in the cards for this Tour.   A Belmondo Christmas Carol, we will call it.  His mission is secret, his methods--beyond repair.  Reality, as we know it, depends upon the conduct of the journey.

Legend has it that, long ago, the little girl selling pencils on the sidewalk, in the freezing cold, attacked the great grandfather of Belmondo, leaving him riddled with pencils stuck in his person here and there. She attempted to rob him, so he shot her with his Derringer, placed the gun in the hand of a nearby starving orphan, then called the constable.

No one came, so he took his gun back from the orphan, gave him the pencil girl's pencil money, then wished the lad a hearty Merry Christmas!  Before the boy could get out of there, Grandfather Belmondo prevailed upon him to help remove the pencils still stuck in his flesh.

The young orphan was happy to oblige the old man; after all, both were overcome with the Christmas Spirit by now.

But how does this legend bear on the matter at hand?  Perhaps it doesn't.  How can one know for sure unless he knows more than one knows now?