Today's Test Missions and Philroy Goes to Space Camp.

Hello Troops,
Today the Magellan and Galileo ran test missions of their upcoming summer camp missions. BJ Warner ran a test mission for himself as he attempts to climb back into the Flight Director's saddle after a two year LDS mission to Japan. Christine said he did very well. Once he certifies our Odyssey Staff will consist of Christine, Set Director and Emily, Adam, Rachel, Brittney, Wyatt and Devin (with Alex, Casey and Bracken also capable of flying Odyssey in a pinch) as Flight Directors.

Matt Long and members of the Programmer's Guild are at the Space Center right now (6:18 P.M.) putting the finishing touches on the Galileo's Cocoa controls. They have been two years in the making (an enormous learning curve included as the programmers learned Apple's programming language) and will be online for the Galileo's summer visitors.

With the ground work and structure of the cocoa system in place the programming of the other ships should come quickly (barring other unforeseen circumstances).

Philroy Goes to Space Camp

"Philroy, it's almost time to go. Your Space Camp starts at 7:00. You don't want to be late." Philroy's mother stopped at the table near the front door looking for her car keys. She found them in the large overly flowered porcelain washbowl. It once belonged to her great grandmother, then her mother and then passed down to her.

"I'm coming. Got one more stop to make," Philroy answered. He was excited to be going back to his favorite place on Earth - the Space Education Center. He went on his first Space Camp when he was ten and instantly fell in love with the place. He loves the ships, he loves the stories and he thinks the world of the staff.

Philroy rushed down the stairs to the main floor, did a 180 degree turn at the bottom, ran down the hall and into the kitchen. He turned 90 degrees after passing the fridge, ran to the basement door, opened it and sped down the stairs to the storage room. Philroy stopped at the door and bent over to enter the room's secret combination into a calculator he'd taped to the wall.

The storage room door was like all the other doors in Philroy's home, so why the secret combination? The storage room required this extra level of security to protect its valuable contents. Philroy knew from his many missions into the deep space aboard the Space Center's fleet of starships that space could be a dangerous place. He knew Earth's number one arch enemy was out there, waiting and watching for his chance to strike back.

Philroy was well known to the Orion Pirates and their leader Mad Dog. In fact Philroy was at the top of their list of people to capture and torture for the wrongs he'd inflicted on their criminal empire. It was Philroy and his brave and true Voyager crew that defeated Mad Dog in his attempt to capture Earth in the Shadows mission he'd commanded on the Voyager last year. Mad Dog cursed Philroy at the end and promised it wasn't over and that he'd return. Philroy knew that Mad Dog would be waiting for him somewhere out there. He knew he had to be prepared if he was going back into space.

Philroy entered the code into the calculator. He counted to five and made an mechanical unlocking sound with his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He turned the handle and made the sound of rushing air.


"Lights," he commanded, pretending the room was controlled by a sophisticated computer. He reached for the switch and turned the lights on.

"Come to papa," he said as he approached his arsenal. There before him was the largest collection of weapons in the state, all painstakingly gathered after the Shadows mission. The next question was, how many could he get away with taking to camp.

He filled his back pack. A roll of duct tape came in handy as he taped a few more phasers to his legs. Finally he shoved one last phaser into the elastic waist band of his gym pants. He was now ready for camp. He was ready to defend his family and his planet from the worst scum in the Galaxy.

"Come and get me Mad Dog!" Philroy shouted as rushed out of the room and back up the stairs to the car waiting in the driveway.

My Embarrassment and the Imaginarium.

"Mr. Williamson. Mr. Williamson," Christine spoke gently, not wanting to startle her employer from his mental stupor.

"Huh, what is it? Time to go home?" Mr. Williamson shifted in his chair from his resting 45 degree angle to a more presentable 90 degree working angle.

"No, its not time to go home yet. Remember, someone from the Home usually calls for you around 7:00 o'clock and its only 6:00 o'clock now."

"What is it then?" Mr. Williamson looked confused. His hair was tuffed up on one side from sleeping in his chair and there were pronounced wet marks on his shirt directly under his chin.

"Hold on." Christine reached over and pulled a couple tissues from the box kept next to the phone. "You've got a bit of dribble on your chin." She gave him the tissues. He wiped his chin and fumbled around for the trash can under his desk. Christine continued, "There is a group here for a 6:15 P.M. Odyssey mission that you didn't have on the online working schedule. "

"What, If they're here then I put the mission on the online schedule. Do you think I make those kind of mistakes? Did you looked hard enough?"

Christine took the schedule book and pointed to where it was written in his handwriting. Then she pointed to the computer and showed him it wasn't entered into the online schedule. He had booked the mission over the phone but forgot to transfer the booking from the schedule book into the online working schedule.

"Someone deleted this mission from the online schedule. Who was it. Step forward. If you confess I'll show mercy but if you don't, heads will roll. If I go down I'm talking all of you with me," Mr. Williamson shouted loud enough to be heard in the halls. The older staff, accustom to dealing with a boss with momentary elder lapses, quickly ushered the younger volunteers and staff out of the room. Seeing the great and mighty Mr. Williamson brought down into a state of complete confusion and delirium wasn't something they wanted them to experience.

"Forget you saw that," Brittney told the younglings as they stood around the 4th grade drinking fountain. "He was really something in his day." They nodded with her but hadn't worked long enough to know whether she was telling the truth or not.

Christine, the ever patient and kind, understood what she had to do. "Mr. Williamson, oh look, I must have made a mistake. This mission is on the schedule and I just didn't see it. Stupid me. Now you go back to whatever you were doing and I'll take care of this group. Don't you worry about a thing."

"I wasn't sleeping in my chair you know," Mr. Williamson reassured her as he repositioned himself in his chair. "You may have thought I was asleep but I was really listening for termites. Termites come out in droves in the Spring. Pesky critters get into everything if you're not careful."

"Yea, like your office chair?" Jace chuckled under his breath thinking Mr. Williamson wouldn't hear. Those that heard quickly covered their mouths and rushed out of the room.

"Do I need to get up and deal with you?" Mr. Williamson started to get out of his chair, then stopped, sat back down and bent over looking for the "The Enforcer". The "Enforcer" is a metal pipe kept on the floor behind his desk. He threatens to use it on anyone that defies his authority. "Cheeky blagart," he said as Christine rushed around his desk, opened the top drawer and took out his calming pills prescribed by the Whole Foods Organic Pharmacy.

"Here take a couple of your pills and you'll feel much better," she said as she dropped two of the brown pills into his hand. "Jace didn't mean anything by what he said. It's only Jace. We all know what he's like." She motioned Jace out of the room with her other hand.

Mr. Williamson returned to his upright position, never once taking his 'death glare' off Jace. Jace left the room to tell the others at the drinking fountain what he'd said. Their laughter could be heard from one end of the school to the other.

"I'm still in charge here and don't any of you forget that," Mr. Williamson swallowed the pills and returned to his computer. Everyone knew he'd be out like a light after a few keystrokes and they were right. Halfway into a return email he was asleep. The Center could continue running smoothly in his present absence.

Side Note. Thanks Christine and Mason for staying and taking that unscheduled mission. You guys saved my bacon and you both get a "Get out of Jail Free" card. And thanks to all the rest of you who find and point out those other "occasional" mistakes I make on the working schedule. No one is perfect, although there are those of that that are, how shall I say.... "Practically Perfect in Every Way".

Mr. W.

And now, how about a few pictures from the Imaginarium to brighten your Sunday.


Joel Plish and Marjory Twimple are meeting each other for the first time outside the Imaginarium's Wonderland Bakery and Coffee Shop located just off Dreamland Blvd. Joel is an accountant in the Ministry of Accounting and Finance. Marjory is an analyst for the Ministry of Titles and Names (that part of the imagination where parent's derive unusual names and spellings for their new borns).

Both of them are single and neither of them get out much. This first encounter lasted an awkward 32 seconds before one of them spoke. Joel, being religiously absent minded, forgot to make a list of discussion topics. Without the list, weather was the only ice breaker he could think of.

"Odd weather," he said, hoping Marjory would pick up where he left off. Marjory looked around and saw his lack of imagination had painted their surroundings in blacks and whites. She stepped back, one step then two. She noticed color was returning to the walls, ground and sky the further she moved away from his mental sphere. At four steps she turned toward the street.

"Consider an hour was spent and we parted company realizing this wouldn't work," she said.
Joel agreed and both returned to their offices and the ever pressing demands of imagination.

And finally, Something Completely Different.

Volunteers and Staff, remember to send in your June working and volunteering requests. Everyone else out there, take a minute and go to the Center's web site. Click on Camps and Classes. Scroll down to see the new one day Galaxy Camps we're offering this summer. Sign up before they are all gone.

It's going to be an awesome summer at the Space Education Center!

Mr. Williamson

Our Weekend

Hello Troops,
And here we are, Troubadours all, telling our heroic tales and singing our epic ballads for a few silver coins hopefully tossed into our cups by the generous in our villages. I'm at my desk once again. Friday's evening is surrending to Saturday's morning. I hear a few voices in the ships. The boys are settling down to sleep.

McKay just sat the Happy Bucket on the desk to my left. An Odyssey camper had that volcanic feeling earlier in the evening and requested the bucket's collection service. Luckily the bucket wasn't used and waits for me to store away until called for again. I'm starting to wonder if this gray bucket may be an omen. I hope not. I hope Fortuna is mischievously engaged elsewhere. I'm hoping our little corner of the world in Pleasant Grove is overlooked as she scours the land looking for lives to disrupt. Move along Fortuna, move along. There is nothing to see here.


Today's news was full with politics from the G8 in Europe to hopefuls tossing their hats into the 2012 election. The think tanked, focus grouped clap trap that comes out of their mouths is mind numbing. I feel like I'm being managed and manipulated every time one of them speaks. They remind me of television evangelists who offer salvation in the promised land governed by their policies and dictates only if you prove your worth by becoming financial supporters, strictly adhering to their cause and voting as you're told.

Remember, a pig is still a pig, even with lipstick. Don't be fooled by the smoke and mirrors from both parties. Be intelligent, look at the issues, read the arguments from both sides and decide based on your values and vision for the future of this nation.

And Now a Few morsels from the Imaginarium.....

The future represented by this photograph from my childhood didn't come to pass. It was an older generation's imaginations of our life tomorrow. Funny isn't it. I suppose it is true to some degree. Our food today is is removed from the mechanical freezer and nuked in the appliance microwave. I guess machines are feeding us.


This is Rick Rolfs. He consumes a great deal of the Imaginarium's time as our Dream Agents work round the clock to prevent him from carrying out terrible schemes against his sister and neighbors. There is a sub section of the Imaginarium's Ministry of Dreams devoted to children just like Rick who were born with over active imaginations. This Sup Section spends most of its time trying to modify their renegade imaginations by having them imagine the consequences of their actions. So far, no success with Rick Rolfs. More later.

And this tossed in for good measure.

And finally, something for those of you with cell phones surgically attached to your body.

I'm nearly asleep. It is time to call it a night. I'll be making the WalMart Donut run at first light.

Mr. W.