“Peace is just the temporary absence of war”

When I stumbled into DayJob at 1300 yesterday, half in Faustina’s world and half in this (notice how carefully I don’t define what’s real?), a young colleague asked what was wrong.  Startling him, I described Fussy’s concern as to whether Gen’l Willis can keep control of his own left brigade.  After a minute of pharmacists and techs looking at one another with uncomfortable looks that said, “this is Clayton we’re dealing with,” the young colleague said, “I think he can’t.”

He was wrong.  Who knew?

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More Jaw-Jaw

I’d seen the middle of this scene, where Faustina and Willis are talking, over the weekend but had no idea how they came to be standing there.  Even with a little trouble at my DayJob, I was able to come home and write down how this parley came to happen.  I remain concerned about the forces on Willis’s left, at the north end of his line.  Are his conscripts riotous or are the Chekists stirring things up?  Will Fussy present a treaty in two hours or start shelling them?  I have no idea and, having to go back to work 2nd shift today, won’t know until, I hope, sometime Thursday.

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Letters and a bath

About a generation ago, when I was a regular reader of James Lilek’s The Bleat, something he said stuck with me (and I paraphrase from memory):  “do you mind if I smoke? No one ever said no in the pre-WWII years, simply because daily baths were such a rarity.  It was closer to the truth to reply ‘I’d rather smell tobacco than you.'”

Something lost in our ultra-hygienic world is what the past smelled like, especially each other.  Beyond exposure to those curry-radiating Pajeets who make deliveries, the idea of smelling other people is a lost concept to modern, Western whites.

I honestly don’t know what prompted Faustina to realize that she stunk as much as the men about her, but I had to smile at her feminine, human, reaction.  I think if someone had pointed out to her she was acting like a ‘normie,’ she would have bit their head off.  Perhaps this is the story telling me that she might not ultimately be lost to us, after all?

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“No” or “hell, no!”

Had a co-worker over for cocktails yesterday afternoon.  Ohio allows personal interaction and we’re both “vital medical personnel” *snort* so we do what we want in the Dark Age of BatAIDS.  He’s one of the folks who encouraged me to think seriously about making audiobooks.  We covered that subject and several others.  While mildly lef of center, we discovered that we’re shoulder-to-shoulder on issues such as private property and firearms.  He’s not particularly religious and was surprised to find out I’m Catholic.  I stared at him over the rim of my Martini and asked, “You’ve read three of my books.  Did you think those elements fell in there by accident?”  All in all, an excellent Saturday afternoon.

Below the fold, anxious for her men and wanting to reunite her army, Faustina thinks of ways to bluff her next opponent rather than fighting a battle.  Which is a polite way of saying I don’t want to throw away another week thinking about it.

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Battle of Winona, second end

It’s been a big day for Faustina but there are thousands of details to resolve after a battle, as she is discovering.  One thing she has learned from history is that speed is an army’s great strength:  if you can appear where you opponents never expected you to be, you are inside their OODA and halfway home to winning.

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